Crissy

Bringing Sexy Back?

It was just too orange-y before.

Right?

I’ve been ready for a change for a while now and I contacted Delicious Design Studio because everyone and their blogger seems to use her services. And she was lovely and her quote was reasonable, and she’s even following me on Twitter now (QOFECrissy, follow me!), but with all the stuff we need for the house I just couldn’t justify spending the money on redecorating because I prefer not freezing my tits off this winter to a pimpin’ blog.

I know. My priorities are fucked.

And so I asked my husband to help me come up with a new theme. I had one I loved and it was very chic and very Studio 54, that’s still chic right? Disco?

I have no idea.

But the fucker wouldn’t work in Explorer. So shit. I couldn’t use it and I went to bed. Mister, however, kept working and this is what happens when you leave a boy in charge of things. You get a theme called DARKSEX.

I think it’s too sexy for a humor blog.

You think I’m funny don’t you?

Don’ t You?

I mean I rarely talk about sex and if I do it’s because we’re not having any so my blog shouldn’t look like porn.

Right?

I don’t know.

I’m thinking a little less “come fuck me” and a little more “everyone can suck it.”

How about something more regal?

I should be wearing a tiara!

Maybe we’ll just change the background picture.

Or the entire thing.

Maybe just a picture of my ass.

I’m fairly certain I already know how the votes are going to line up. Boys vote for sexy, girls vote for tiara, but we need to find a way to amalgamate (whoa Nelly! That’s a mighty big word there little lady!) the two.

I feel like I’ve been in a real funk lately and I’m a little depressed and stressed and anxious and So. Not. Funny.

Maybe a new look will help me get my mojo back.

You could also send me cash…

I Am Ass

I feel like ass today. Not AN ass, just ass. I’m sick. But unfortunately it’s not amoebic dysentery like I’ve been praying for all these years. It’s almost like mono with a little bit of nausea and headaches and sore throat to go with it.

So instead of a real post today, I’m going to share with you a story that I wrote for Surviving Myself’s short story contest. I could not for the life of me figure out an ending, so I didn’t use it. I hate having things hanging around unfinished so maybe you guys can help me out with it and we’ll call it a group project.

Oh, how FUN!!!

Anyway, here is the story.

He was confused. Kevin could have sworn that he grabbed a plastic baggie on his way out to take Snow White, his girlfriend Monica’s spoiled little Maltese for a walk. “Where the hell did it go?” he wondered as he fumbled helplessly for the baggie. After a full search of the pockets in his suit, all he turned up was his purple Brooks’ Brother’s tie that made him feel like a corporate big dick whenever he wore it.

“You better not have to take a shit you little shit bag!” grumbled Kevin.

But today was not Kevin’s lucky day.

Snow White started spinning in a circle, the telltale sign that she was going to “go apples” as Monica so delicately put it.

“Noooooooooo! No! No! Please Snow White, not! Now!”
But it was too late.
Snow White went apples.
On the sidewalk.
In front of a church.
With the doors open.
During a funeral.
“Fuck it!” he said to himself. And he was hoping for a fast get away before anyone noticed he did not dispose of Snow White’s apples, but the dog wasn’t moving. He tugged on the pink rhinestone encrusted leash, but the bitch just wouldn’t budge. “Let’s! fucking! Go!” he said through his teeth, a little bit of spittle landing on his lower lip. Snow White still refused to move and was still squatting, but nothing seemed to be coming out…there seemed to be something… stuck…
“Awwww…fuck me!” said Kevin as upon closer, hands and knees investigation, he realized that Snow White had what resembled the string of a tampon from Monica’s trash sticking out of her butt with a wad of shit dangling from the end of it.

He scanned the ground for something to pull the string with.

Nothing.

“Of all the god damned times NOT to find fucking litter on the ground…”

The people sitting toward the back of the church heard the commotion and turned to see Kevin on his hands and knees staring at the dog’s ass.

“Good morning” whispered Kevin, embarrassed as hell, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

AND THEN WHAT HAPPENS???

Hell if I know.

Help me Internets!

I’m not sure, but I think that the story I submitted is being posted today, so go see it.

It’s a real EYE opener.

Ha, ha, ha, ha!!!

I’m funny.

A Post in which I Include a Gratutious Number of Pictures of My New Purse

I found this purse the other day I was all “I love it!” and Girlfriend was like “don’t buy it mommy. It’s too stupid. I want to go home!”

This worried me a little as usually she is quite the little fashionista and has very good taste, except for all the stuff with Hello Kitty and Elmo on it, but whatever. Everyone has their weaknesses.

She loves these shoes, for example

and she will not take them off, not even to sleep. It’s kind of cute actually, but you see what I’m saying don’t you Internet? Her taste isn’t exactly without it’s hint of the flamboyant and the colorful.

So I bought the bag despite her protest and showed it to Mister when he got home. He looked at it and said “it’s blue.” That’s all he said. Not “that’s nice!” or “wow! Can I borrow that?” Nothing. So I’m guessing everyone hates my new bag, but I love it. It makes me feel Very Fancy and I can shoplift at the grocery store all the live long day fit all the essentials inside it because it is HUGE.

I used it all weekend.

You’re jealous as hell, aren’t you?

Right?

RIGHT???

Maybe I’ll let you borrow it sometime.

Crissy:Comic Edition

On Monday morning I opened my email to find this:

it continues:

It’s from stoogepie just in case you missed it, and it made me feel all special and stuff that he made this for me because most of the time I’m lucky if people shit in a bag and give it to me for a present but this is certainly not shit in a bag.

It’s genius.

I’ve never looked so good in yellow and it’s probably the only time my picture will ever appear on the side of a building since nobody in Schmuckytown will be putting one up.

Clearly.

I have only one complaint though. He got my boobies totally wrong. They’re much larger in real life, but whatever. We’ve never actually met in person and so I guess it’s pretty good for his first try.

He told me he didn’t want me to pimp his blog but I have poor listening skills or whatever and so I did it anyway.

Now go see him and give the boy some love.

DO IT!!!

DO IT NOW BITCHES!

Fine. I’ll Worship Myself Then.

Well, it’s been over a week since I became the greatest thing since sliced bread and saved a boy from drowning and still there’s nothing.

No parade,

No flowers,

No news story,

Not even a mention in the weekly Police Blotter. Whatever that is.

No Queen of Fucking Everything,

No paparazzi chasing me and asking me personal questions about myself,

so I must say I’m disappointed in this town.

Apparently Schmuckytown USA is really Town Who Doesn’t Give a Rat’s Ass When People Almost Die in a Pond and Hot Mommy Bloggers Rescue Them Town.

But that’s okay.

Don’t cry for me Internet.

Well, okay. If you insist but it’s not necessary. Much.

(Yes it is.

CRY BITCHES.

DO IT!!!)

I’m not hurt because I know what a good thing I did and that’s what really matters. Anything else is just gravy. I just wish I had known that they weren’t planning anything because I’ve been sitting in my window waiting for them for over a week now and my butt is stuck to the window sill just like that lady on the news who was stuck to her toilet for two years and I’m going to have to get it removed and I wonder if my call to 911 for that will get me a date with Officer Dreamy McHot the attention I so richly deserve.

So yeah.

Acts of extreme heroism and bravery?

Not so much around here.

Wankers.