You Better Not Pout, You Better Not Cry

You better watch out, I’m tellin’ you why…


It’s Christmas portrait time, Queefies.

It’s one of the most stressful days of the year for Crissy and Mister because omg kids.  If you’ve ever tried to take a portrait of your kids with their shiny happy little faces you know it’s a total fucking shitshow.

We decorate the tree, light the fireplace, set up the camera and the lights, get them into their matching Christmas dresses (purchased weeks in advance in preparation), comb their hair and get them in front of the camera to pretend that we are a functional family.

There’s bribery of the M&M persuasion and when that doesn’t work there’s threats of taking away television and when that doesn’t work Christmas gets cancelled like fifteen times.

Then comes the begging: “Please just smile.  This is not for US, this is for your family!  Auntie Cya and Marcy and Dips and Pop-Pop and Popa and Grammie and Uncle Billy and the people who love you want to have nice pictures of you!  DON’T YOU LOVE AUNTIE CYA? Smile for Auntie Cya! Come on, come on, sit here and smile…good!  good!  YAY!  Happy Kids! AW FUCK! THE DOG’S ASS IS IN THE FUCKING FRAME! GET THE FUCKING DOG OUT OF HERE!”

And then we try again and again and it goes similarly and it’s exactly like herding 147 profoundly retarded cats.

I start sounding like Bill Cosby:  “Come here. Come here. Come Here. Here! Here! Here! Here! Heeeeeerrrreeeeeeeee!!!!”

“Sit down. Sit down. Sit down. Sitsitsitsitsitsitsit.”


Brain. Damage.

And I look like Jeffrey’s mother:


This is because Girlfriend knows she’s in a position of power over both of us, so she fucks with us.  She splays her legs out, she crosses her eyes, she sticks out her tongue, she does whatever she can think of to ruin the shot.

She finds it tremendously rewarding to see Mister and me go to Crazytown.

Now, one might question why we do this year after year if it’s such a disaster.

Because if we didn’t, we wouldn’t get pictures like this:


Have yourself a crappy little Christmas.

What Happens When I’m Not Home…


My dreams of having a maidlaundressnanny have been crushed, guys.  HippieMom SuperNanny has left us.  The halcyon days are over.

Her husband got a fancy new job and they had to move away.  Far, far away and so I no longer have her at the house, doing battle against the filth and the dishes and the laundry.

Our new childcare arrangements are so complicated we had to make a spreadsheet, but we’re making a go of it and not replacing her because there is no replacement for HippieMom SuperNanny.

We cannot bear the thought of even trying.

It’s only been one day and the house is already falling to crap.

Queefies, how is it possible that I can vacuum and wash the floors on Monday night and by Tuesday evening, even though nobody has been in the house all day, the place is a total fucking shitshow?

I have one theory, and one theory only.

It’s THIS:

Alice and Vivian have all the dogs in the neighborhood over for a dog party and the recalcitrant shitbirds ham it up in my kitchen!

I leave in the morning, and the two of them start barking out the windows, exactly like how it takes place on 101 Dalmations when the puppies go missing, and the next thing you know, they all come over here.  Tequila brings beer (ironically, she doesn’t like hard liquor), Henry‘s got da Chronic, and Talus brings the hos.

The end.

The Twat Ring

Are you guys following me on Pinterest?


The fuck is wrong with you?

You should be following me because everything I pin is the most awesome stuff the Internet has to offer. Obvi.

Right now, I’m on a quest for the perfect ring to replace my stolen wedding set. Remember that? It was terrible, and I’m still traumatized and pretty angry that some low-life scum sucking douchebag thought she had the right to help herself to our family heirlooms.

Our family is not a sentimental one at all, but one thing we do get attached to is jewelry. We really get into handing things like that down.

So, there’s a lot of pressure on this replacement ring to be ultra special and something that generations will enjoy. My plan is to have my heirloom ring re-created with some diamonds my mother gave me that belonged to my Great Grandmother.

I’ve decided to replace my wedding set with either a diamond wedding band, or just a diamond cocktail ring. I don’t feel the need to have a traditional wedding set because who says I have to?

Nobody. So long as there’s something on that finger, I’m good with it. There are so many beautiful things out there, I don’t want to limit myself to wedding sets.

I only like vintage stuff. All the new stuff I’ve seen isn’t doing it for me–there’s too many little doo-das all over the place.

So, I fell in love with this:

And I thought about it and thought about it and wanted it soooo badly.

I finally broke down and had it shipped to a local store, hoping that I could just get over it and that I wouldn’t like it when I tried it on. It’s about four sizes too big, but I liked it. It’s very unique and the quality is absolutely exquisite. It was so white and clear I couldn’t get over it. It was almost disturbing how white the diamonds were. I thought everyone would love it, so I posted a picture of it on Facebook.

A few people liked it, but most didn’t!


And then somebody said it looks like a twat.

Does it look like a twat to you, Queefies?

I think it looks like leaves, but now all I see is vagina when I look at it.

I don’t want a vagina on my finger, you guys!

So, the ring is pretty much ruined for me now and the search continues. Those of you who are easily distracted by anything sparkly can help me because I’m always pinning stuff to my Treasure Bath board on Pinterest. You guys can help me find the perfect heirloom ring for Homeslice and Girlfriend that hopefully does not look like a twat.

(If you think this is just a desperate ploy to get more followers on Pinterest, you are absolutely right.)

Crissy Disappears From the Internet, Returns Like a Year Later Really Pissed that Her Page Ranking Has Slipped.

Once the Queen, always the Queen.

Or so I thought.

Crissy Moran porn star is still better than me, as is that stupid doll from 1968.

Don’t even get me started on the antique store.

We cannot have this. We cannot be #6 on Google, you guys.


So, yes.

I’M BACK.  I’d like to say that I’m also new and improved, but we all know that’s bullshit.  I’m 38 and I’m tired.

I’d love to say there are so many changes and fun things to tell you about, but that’s also bullshit.  Everything is almost exactly the same as it was except there are no longer dicks growing in our mulch.  I know you’re all sad to hear about that and you were hoping for fresh pictures of that after staring at the same blog post for an eternity.

I’ve gotten letters about that dick-in-the-mulch post.

Not all of them were favorable, Queefies.

Some people were actually becoming tired of looking at that picture, unbelievable as it may seem.

Anyway, you don’t have to look at it any more, persnickety Queefies.

is three (!) now and Girlfriend is seven


so maybe I can have a little head space to share with you.


As I write this I’ve had to stop eleven millionty times (twice) to clean up spilled mac and cheese (I called the dogs over and they cleaned it up) and wiped an ass (I told Homeslice to do it herself.  It did not go well and I had to clean the walls and the toilet seat, the sink area…and her hair.).

It’s been nearly impossible to write a post and I’ve tried, Queefies.

Somebody said I should write a made up story about where I’ve been all this time, but you know.  I’ve been on Facebook.

And pictures of my ass have been on Flickr.

I wonder who put THOSE there…

Anyway, I’m looking forward to Homeslice going to preschool because I’m going to have a different perspective on it all.  Last time, with Girlfriend, I had the perspective of a humble Library Lady.

Now, I’m a Mrs. Fancypants with a Fancy Lady job from which, to everyone’s surprise, I have not yet been fired  from for saying “motherfucker.”

I know they’re still scared every time they bring me in front of a client.  They have every motherfucking right to be, you guys.

I wonder, will I find the Escalade Pajama Cunts as irksome as I had last time?  Having a nanny myself, will I  judge the Mrs. Fancypants’ as harshly as I had before when someone loudly introduces their “NEW NANNY?”

Will I look down on the stay-at-home mothers?

Will I offer them Xanax?

These questions and more will be answered shortly.

This post is just a warm up.

We’re going to get a new look over here soon too.  I’m going to pay someone in marijuana cigarettes to make it look nice.  I don’t know who yet, so I’m looking for some volunteers.  Apply below.

Oh! Did I tell you guys we don’t use money anymore?

We pay people in marijuana cigarettes, now.

I guess that’s new…

There I was, minding my own business when I noticed there was a dick in my mulch. This is not a euphemism for anything, I swear.

So the other day I was getting out of my car after work and when I opened the door, I was hit in the face by a powerful smell.

It smelled like a swimming pool full of semen, you guys.

I’m not talking about that delicate whiff of it you get in the spring time when the cum trees are in bloom. It was more like what it must be like to be on the “catching” end in a Japanese Bukkake film.

As I walked into the house, I made a mental note to tell Hippymom Supernanny that if she’s going to be filming porn in my driveway while the kids are napping, she needs to hose down a little better because seriously?

I mean, what she does during her break time is her business, but mop up woman, for the love of god!

But I forgot to mention it to her and thank goodness I did because the next day I noticed this sticking out of the mulchy area that frames the driveway:

Oh, hello! And, EW! Whatthefuck?

As I got closer I realized this was where the smell was coming from.

There is a penis mushroom that smells like Japanese Bukkake porn growing in my yard.

So I yelled to Mister “THERE’S A DICK IN OUR YARD!” and he ran outside with his camera and took that picture for the Queefies because who would believe that The Crissys have penises growing out of the ground at their house?

Actually, if you know us, this is completely believable, but anyway.

I felt very protective of our penis mushroom because I was afraid that the guy across the street, Captain Underpants, had a blog and that he would see it and he would post about it on his blog first. But then I realized that was silly because Captain Underpants only cares about swearing “fuckingcocksucker!” at his car and shoveling snow in his undershorts. Oh and he wears his soccer gear just for shits, even when there’s no game.  So, I’m pretty sure I’m the first one in our neighborhood to blog about this.  Also, I’m not sure Captain Underpants is what you’d call a reader never mind a mushroom identifier and certainly probably not a writer.

I’m just being paranoid, but can you blame me?  Penis mushrooms are very special.

And it looks really nice next to the statue of Mister.

And of course we looked it up.

We are truly blessed to have such a marvelous thing in our yard.

Thank you, Satan.

Missing Something?


It’s been a while, I know, but I finally have a chance to say “sup?” to the Queefies!  I’ve been trying to do this for ages.

So, we went on our annual vacation to Beautiful Newport RI and during my first time on the beach with my super cute new bathing suit from Land’s End, I flashed everyone when I mistakenly thought the weight of the skirt bottom was an actual skirt and proceeded to take it off.

Mister took a picture of it and promised to photoshop my bum so you couldn’t see it but he didn’t do a good enough job so I’m not showing you my bum picture. Sorry. But I’d like to thank Mister for letting me do it so he could get a picture first.  I’d love to say that it happened only once, but that would be a lie. It happened again the next day at the pool.

That bathing suit has been relegated to “private use only.”

Vacation was lovely until on Wednesday we were going out to celebrate my birthday when I went to put on my jewelry and IT WAS GONE!! I tore through our room and it was just not there anywhere!!!

The hotel maid took my wedding rings and my great grandmother’s diamond ring.


It’s a huge loss for me and it’s been several weeks now, but it still feels like it just happened. I feel like I’ve lost my great grandmother all over again. I was close with her, you know.  She left me her favorite piece of jewelry.  I feel like I’ve let her down because I failed to protect it. I was looking forward to passing that ring on to Girlfriend or Homeslice one day, and now I can’t.

And we called the police and we went to pawn shops and emailed pictures of my stuff all over the place.  I’ve been checking craigslist and we’ve reported it to insurance which only covers a small amount, but at least it’s something.

That maid is guilty as sin. She was the only one who could have entered our room, and she admitted that my rings must have fallen off the bathroom sink and into the pile of towels on the floor. The police never said the rings had been left on the sink… how odd that she knew that, right Queefies? Of course they searched the hotel laundry room.  Guess what?  NO RINGS.

She also admits to having left our room door open!

Who leaves a room door open???


Last I heard, she still has a job.  The stupid Long Wharf Resort offered us a free dinner and a new vacation.  Well, whoopty frickin’ doo! That totally makes everything better.  They can suck it because it’s been a while now and nobody has called us to work out a way to make things right like they said they would, so here I am on the Internet using my big mouth to tell you DO NOT VACATION AT WYNDHAM RESORTS BECAUSE THEY WILL STEAL YOUR STUFF AND TRY TO DISTRACT YOU WITH A STEAK!! I never, ever want to go there again.

The Newport police have been able to do NOTHING.  She even had a warrant out for her arrest at the time of the theft, but they can’t charge her with stealing my rings because they can’t put them in her possession.  The detective said that the evidence in hand is circumstantial and would be shot full of alternate theories by a defense attorney.

Suddenly, I’m a HUGE believer in waterboarding…

This criminal is out there with these things that mean so much to me and I just can’t get over it. I keep picturing my great grandmother’s ring being sold for peanuts, dismantled for the diamonds, and melted down for the platinum.

My mother gave me her wedding rings to wear (thanks, mommy!!) and they’re pretty, but they’re just not mine. I miss the feeling of heaviness my rings had.

Being robbed is the worst feeling ever.  It’s so much worse than realizing you’ve just taken your pants off at the beach.  I look at those pictures up there and I see I still have my stuff, and now I don’t anymore. Mister bought me a new watch to replace the cheap Target one the maid took. It was exactly the same one I had, and when I opened the box, I burst into tears because it felt like it belonged to me in another lifetime. It was like having my things back, but not.

There’s just something missing.  And I feel naked all the time…

If any of you have any other ideas for things we can do to try to get my stuff back, send your Crissy a message.  Or if you know a witch that can spin a badass curse, I could totally go supernatural on some motherfuckers right now. CALL ME!

Yo! Who’s the Bitch with the Tats? My original title had an f-bomb in it, but I thought better of it because I’m mature now.

Hey, Queefies.

I’m thinking about getting a tattoo only I don’t know what it’s going to be or where I want to put it.

I think it should prolly go somewhere that’s easily hideable, so when I’m wicked old and stuff I don’t make the nursing home staff throw up every time they have to change my bum.

Like, nothing would be worse at that point than to have like a big tramp stamp that says “JUICY” on it.

That would be an unfortunate and ironic mistake, I think.

I thought about getting it on the back of my neck so I can hide it or show it off according to my whim.  That’s where it might end up, but  I don’t really like tattoos.  They look really great on other people, but I’m not sure I’m A Person Who Gets Tattoos, ya know?

Like, am I that girl?

Next thing you know, I’m getting my clit pierced and hanging around with dudes name “Bug” and “Razor.”

That’s what happens to girls who get tattoos isn’t it?

Seriously though.  What business do I have getting a tattoo at 37?

I must just want one now because I work with The Young People and most of them are tattooed.  I want to be Fancy Lady Who Works With The Young People And Gets Tattoos or some such nonsense now.

OMG!  Speaking of people who think they’re fancy but they’re really not, have you been watching Real Housewives of New Jersey?

WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?  Every last one of those people is a disgusting pig.

What’s wrong with that one girl’s hairline?  It’s half way down her face! Or is that just a really unfortunate eyebrow situation? If I were her, I’d totally buy myself a new hairline with all that money.  Instead, she buys stupid looking shit to put in her kids’ hair.  Why does she do that?  I think it’s because they got her hairline, but she’s not fooling me, Queefies!

You can’t make up for bad genetics with ugly barrettes, moron.

Just like you can’t fix stupid, you can’t fix cave woman hair.

That’s what I always say.

I’d better be careful though because these people are like animals. For all I know, Lady Guido Hair is going to come and tear my extensions out of my head if I had any but I don’t SO TAKE THAT LADY GUIDO HAIR!

I win.

Anyway, who gets a tattoo at 37?   I do.  (Possibly)

Should the Queen deface the Royal Bodkin?

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Madame Royale writes and performs a song, and I didn’t say “motherfucker” at my fancy lady meeting.

Did I tell you guys that Girlfriend, aka Madame Royale, goes to acting class? She loves it because she gets to be a diva and people don’t send her to the naughty step for it. They actually encourage her diva-ness there!

Here is a video of her performing a song she wrote. The lady with the camera is her acting teacher and I don’t know who the dude with the guitar is, but he’s kinda cute.

PS: I didn’t say “motherfucker” at the meeting! I didn’t even say “crap” or “hell” so there were no fire trucks at all coming out of my mouth! But then again, I purposely didn’t talk very much just in case there was one waiting there, but still. It didn’t happen so, Hi-Five! Great success! I was not Fancy Lady Meeting Asshole.

Exactly like Abbot and Costello only without penises and weird hats.

It’s always better to post something rather than nothing, so this is part one in a two part series I call

“What Crissy Does All Day, Pretty Much.”


This is Facebook chat, btw.

There’s a poll at the bottom.  You should do it or whatever.

Lynne: 5:27pm you still at work beeotch?

Me:5:28pm I am. I’m chatting with Deb and Rachel and you. I am popular. i was bored, but I’m not anymore.

Lynne: 5:28pm I’m chatting with deb too! You are fucking popular did you blog that comment thread?

Me: 5:29pm what a whore she is!

Lynne: 5:29pm she likes me better

Me: 5:29pm No. I didn’t blog it. I can’t blog from here. It doesn’t save. No she doesn’t.

Lynne: 5:29pm oh well fuck that noise tell elaine you have to go home early to blog it she does too she told me specifically that she likes me better she said “I like you better than Kristen”.

Me: 5:31pm She did not because she told me she likes me better than you.

Lynne: 5:32pm She told me she told you that but she said she was lying to you

Me: 5:32pm I gave her a breast pump. What did you give her? I thought so.

Lynne: 5:32pm I gave her a reason to live

Me: 5:32pm Hahahahahaha

Lynne: 5:32pm beat that bitch

Me: 5:33pm I can’t. You win.

Lynne: 5:33pm I always do what time you outa that hellhole?

Me: 5:33pm 6:00 I just asked deb straight out who she likes more.

Lynne: 5:33pm did you accomplish anything today? she will lie to you she told me she would

Me: 5:34pm hahahaha I accomplished nothing today as per my usual work ethic.

Lynne: 5:34pm she just told me she likes me better

Me: 5:34pm She’s also chatting with Joanne. maybe she likes her better than she likes both of us.

Lynne: 5:34pm she doesn’t, she likes me she just told me joanne must have defriended my ass because I don’t see her

Me: 5:35pm You use disgusting language. That’s why.

Lynne: 5:35pm oh, is that it? i defriended that person today because she supports some “one man, one woman” group

Me: 5:36pm Fuck her.

Lynne: 5:36pm i’m going to go have lesbian sex on her front lawn just for that

Me: 5:37pm Ooooo! I will help!

Lynne: 5:37pm ok, you can be my lesbian sex partner

Me: 5:37pm Or paint her car with a lezzie sex scene and write “slut mobile” on it.

Lynne: 5:37pm yes!

Me: 5:37pm i dare say the car painting is more painful You can look away from the sex on the lawn, but you have to deal with the car.

Lynne: 5:38pm we could paint the car and then have sex on it

Me: 5:38pm That would be pretty good.

Lynne: 5:39pm and yet chilly

Me: 5:39pm And have someone film it and send the film to her mom.

Lynne: 5:40pm photoshop her face on one of ours so her mom thinks shes a lez

Me: 5:41pm I think we have a plan…

Lynne: 5:41pm a caper even

Me: 5:41pm We’ve been looking for one of those!

Lynne: 5:41pm i know, finally! a lesbian caper even Sue is online too, we could drag her lesbian ass into this too

Me: 5:42pm she’s not even almost a lesbian.

Lynne: 5:42pm yea, i guess, plus she’s in Florida and we can’t wait

Me: 5:42pm no. this requires swift action.

Lynne: 5:43pm it’s almost an emergency

Me: 5:43pm hahahaha do I have to shave or are hairy lesbians better?

Lynne: 5:44pm hmmm im not sure about that google that maybe there’s a poll online about whether hairy lesbians are more popular oh, now jenn is online and i see joanne, she didn’t defriend me whew!

Me: 5:45pm I will pose this question to the internet.

Lynne: 5:45pm maybe you could do a poll on your blog do you have many lesbian followers? Besides Ash.

Me: 5:45pm I think I will!

Me: 5:46pm I have hippy lesbian followers. Remember the free birthers?

Lynne: 5:46pm oh yes. you offended them once as I recall

Me: 5:47pm I did, but not too badly. They know they’re weird.

Lynne: 5:47pm that’s important to be aware of your own dementedness

Me: 5:48pm I know all about my dementedness. That’s why I have Monica. I’m chatting with 4 people! This is a record!

5:49pm holy crap! you’re cheating on me with 3 people?

Me: 5:51pm You’re not woman enough for me. Plus, I’m a ho-bag.

Lynne: 5:51pm tell me something I don’t know

Me: 5:51pm I’m so popular tonight! Helen came down to loan me her new CD. (*editorial note: Helen is an adorable and sweet librarian everyone loves. She’s in her 70′s)

Lynne: 5:51pm System of a down?

Me: 5:51pm No. Insane Clown Posse.

5:52pm oh right. that’s her favorite

5:52pm She’s getting a pic of the band tattooed on her ass.

Lynne: 5:52pm She’s such a rebel.

5:54pm She secretly drives a motorcycle. You know all those stunts you see on TV where they jump cars and stuff? That’s her.

Lynne: 5:54pm I thought I recognized her once when she took her helmet off! I was right

5:54pm yes. 5:55pm I admire her 5:55pm She totally looks like Hilda that muppet.

Lynne: 5:55pm totally

Me: 5:55pm I showed it to her once. She didn’t laugh.

5:55pm LOL!!!! She does look like her

Me: 5:56pm She’s adorable. It’s like they made the puppet to look like her.

Lynne: 5:56pm She didn’t appreciate that?

5:56pm yes and no.

Lynne: 5:57pm I wish the would make a muppet of me. its a dream of mine

5:57pm hahahahaha I want to have my own barbie.

5:57pm that would be nice too!

Me: 5:57pm it would wear schlubby library clothes and have bags under her eyes

Lynne: 5:58pm hahahahahaha

Me:5:58pm and her boobs would leak. And she’d come with a huge bag of tampons

Lynne: 5:58pm that would be a big seller! Mine would come with slim fast and an office chair. She’d get randomly fat and skinny she’d also come with cake maybe a bonus easy bake oven

Me: 5:59pm Instead of growing hair, she’d have a growing ass.

Me: 6:00pm I just posted it as my facebook status.

Lynne: 6:00pm hahahaha this chat is pretty fucking funny

Me: 6:01pm We are always funny. What are you even talking about?

6:01pm I don’t know, I lost my mind

Me: 6:01pm I think we’re tired.

So basically what this conversation reveals are two very important questions:


Are hairy lesbians more attractive than shorn lesbians?

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2. If you were a Barbie, what accessories would you come with?

Here’s mine as illustrated by my friend, The Other Kristin:

PS: Tomorrow we’ll see Mister get involved in the action.  That’s right.  It’s a threesome just like the Three Stooges except with better haircuts and bigger boobs.