This morning, Mister tried to leave for work wearing his Halloween costume:

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You know, sans makeup and accessories, but STILL!  I had to stop him and tell him he cannot leave the house dressed like that and somehow I’m the asshole.

PS: Yesterday, after considerable effort with stroller hauling and packing of food bribes to keep Girlfriend in line,  I attempted to go to the mall, which I loathe doing, to go to The Gap for a new pair of jeans. My favorite ones are so old and worn thin, they’re like one squat away from an Unfortunate Incident.  But to my dismay, they have apparently closed all the Gap stores within a 20 minute radius of my house, and if you know me, you know I don’t leave that 20 minute radius for anything.  Not even for Trader Joe’s (it’s 25 minutes away, fyi).  And so this morning, I go online to The Gap and I measure myself for a new pair of my favorites–The Curvy Jean.

And their sizing chart is fucked.

Somebody needs to explain how in the name of Shit and Asshole I’m supposed to know what size I am when my waist is 34 inches around which is a size 16 (!), my hips are 35 inches, and my thigh is 20 inches around which makes me a size 00(!!!).   I’m a 16/00.  And before anyone tells me I measured wrong, I did not.  I followed their measuring tips (6 times), which are also fucked because according to them, my waist is really my hips, my hips are really my ass, and my thigh is, well, it’s still my thigh.  At least we can all still agree on what a thigh is, but you have to come and see this chart and tell me what I’m doing wrong, or at the very least tell me what fucking size I am, or tell me you’re a disproportionate freak show like me so I feel better.

Do any of you work there?  Can you ask them what kind of  fuckery this is?  I don’t want to have to call bullshit on my beloved Gap, but I will if I don’t get a satisfactory explanation.

The Queen demands it!

The Ghosts of David and Grandmother Helen strike again!

Yesterday, when I got into my car to start it, the radio came on. I hadn’t put the key in yet, leading me to believe that David and my Grandmother Helen have been out cruising in my car, and they forgot to turn the radio off. I’m like 99% sure I hadn’t had the radio on when I put it into the garage, because it is impossible for me to pull the car in with music playing. I must have silence to concentrate or I’m gonna either take a mirror off or smash into my lawn chairs.

I’m cool with them borrowing my car. I’d rather have them out speeding around than sitting in my bedroom watching me do naughty things that make me die a little bit inside with Mister so I can get me a new ride.

Also, it smelled like pot. But then again, that could have been from…well, never mind.

Dun-dun-daaaaa…

In other news, I’m coming down with a cold, and I had a story to tell you, but I fucking forgot what it was.

PS: Happy Valentines Day Queefies! We’re doing absolutely nothing. I’ll be lucky if Mister picks up a card, but this morning, he told me I “don’t look like a pile of dog shit.” That’s pretty much as romantic as it gets around here, so I guess that was Valentines Day. Ta-Da!!!!

PSS: I think I’m going to have to demand an explanation for this:

Wow! A MONDAY post? This shit hasn’t happened in like, a long time but good news you guys! Homeslice has discovered finger food. This means we are at the point where I can toss a handfull of Cheerios at her and have fucking quiet for like, five minutes.

Ahhhhh…bliss.

We had a super productive weekend as Mister made a bookcase for Homeslice, and it’s fucking adorable, and then he re-caulked our shower and waxed the shower doors so he wouldn’t have to hear me bitch about cleaning them for a couple of weeks.

You’re about dying from excitement right now, aren’t you?

I know, I know. This is why I’m the QOFE and you’re not. You suck a little bit. Sorry.

And Homeslice worked really hard on her crawling all weekend, but I’m sorry to report that instead of going forward she just goes backward and gets really pissed that the thing she was crawling for keeps getting further away and so she crawls backward and cries. Either that or she’s just like, “fuck it” and tries to get up and walk by getting into a downward dog position and then falling on her face when she tries to stand.

It’s…a process.

And then Girlfriend gets involved and tries to help which only pisses her off more. And then Alice comes over and frenches her and well, the poor thing.

And perhaps the biggest news is that we signed Girlfriend up for public Kindergarten:

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I look like somebody’s mother, right?

It was a little bit sad, and I’m a little nervous about the public school thing. The publicness frightens me. Homeslice was totally unconcerned. She thought I was being silly, so she took a nap.

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She’s not very supportive.

The kinks aren’t totally worked out with the new theme and everything, and so I’m going to stop writing now because it’s pissing me off. It keeps eating my words. Anyway, Happy Monday Queefies! May you ride to work on the back of a unicorn that smells of roses and shits rainbows and ice cream because what else would a unicorn shit?

So here it is. Mister worked really hard on this new theme, and we struggled with the colors. We’re (I’m) not totally sure we (I) love them like this, so that might change at some point. But he didn’t pimp slap me when I kept saying the colors weren’t right, so tell him his balls are pretty and touch him on his bum a little. He likes those things (even if you have to lie about the balls part because let’s face it. Balls aren’t cute).

Today Homeslice and I will have adventures on the East Side of Providence over at Monica’s, and then at Whole Foods. All the fancy stuff is on the East Side of Providence, you know.  And then tonight, we all go across the street for our weekly Pot of Crap dinner with the Richard and Micheles. I’m making pizza, it’s very exciting.

Try to control yourself.

I’m just concerned about the drive over to the East Side because I’m like 85% sure we’re going to die in a car crash. Just this past week, I’ve been run into the ditch THREE times by 2 asshats who were texting and came over the yellow line and nearly hit us head-on, and one stupidcuntbitchasshat who decided to drift into my lane without even looking when I was right next to her. Yes.  I was trying to pass her because she was doing 45 in the fast lane on the highway with her head resting on her driver’s side window.  What the fuck, woman?  She could have killed Girlfriend and me!  Homeslice was on the other side. She probably would have been okay.  But when I beeped the horn at her, she didn’t even notice.  She didn’t even take her head off her window.

So, I’ve decided that my next car will be one of these:

Sexy, right?  That’s actually the sexiest picture I could find. It’s not the BMW,but you know what?  At least we won’t all die in this car because some fucktard was texting his girlfriend.   And you see where the fog lights are mounted right there on the front?  I’m going to take those out and have Mister Macgyver some kind of flame thrower arrangement so that when somebody tries to kill us, I can burn them.  He’s totally brilliant at ghetto rigs.  He can do it.  Once he figures it out, he can do your car too.  It’s up to us to teach them, you know.

SOLIDARITY BROTHERS AND SISTERS!

btw, this is my official announcement to Mister that he’s buying me a Volvo.  He doesn’t know yet.  He’s going to be Very Excited.

Like, $45,000 exciteds.

PS: We don’t actually have $45,000 for a new car.  I’m just feeling like a rich lady because I made $130 selling my stuff on eBay last week, so clearly we can afford a new car.

PSS: I’m not good at math.

PSSS: That’s why I think I might have to bust out my feminine wiles for this one.  It’s going to take some convincing.

PSSSS: By feminine wiles I mean promises of blow jobs and steak every Friday night.

PSSSSS: I’d watch the comments section if I were you.  Just sayin.’

PSSSSSS: If you don’t help support my cause, I will totally ban you from this blog.