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!

Do you remember this guy?



What are you new here?

Read this.

And this.

And then this.

And Crissy is NOT new here so she knows nobody is clicking on shit so she’ll just tell you that that woodland creature’s name is Frank and that Crissy’s dog Alice is madly in love with him and he’s sort of a bastard because he ate many a plant that Crissy loved like her mint and her zinnias and her sun rays and her sunflowers and her sweet peas (both edible and non-edible varieties) last summer.

(let Crissy just say that if you don’t read the posts you’re really missing something wonderful. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll even pee your pants they’re so good, but if you don’t want to pee your pants that’s your business. Freak.)

And Crissy thought she had seen the last of him until a few days ago when Alice started acting very peculiarly.

She was all perky and stuff and running all over the house and playing very friskily with her squeaky sheep and her squeaky pheasant and she was panting and jumping all around and running up and down the stairs and yodeling (!) and being not very much like Alice at all.

And she wanted to go outside every. two. minutes.

And Crissy just thought it might be because it was 40 degrees outside and Alice had a touch of The Spring Fever but no.

Mister figured it out.

Frank is out of hibernation. The hole under the fence he uses to come into the yard has freshly turned dirt in it.

And Alice is on cloud nine.

If there was a cloud ten she’d be on that.

She woke Crissy up at 4:30 this morning to go outside and see Frank. Actually, that’s not true. The douchebag who decided to go out and start his car and blast house music at 4:30 am woke Crissy up. Alice just insisted Crissy let her out.

And do you know what that dirty bastard gave Alice because of all the varmint to dog tick exchanging that happened during the Schnauzerchuck canoodling?

Lyme Disease.

And god knows what else.

Maybe even Herpes!!!



Naturally, Crissy is beside herself.

Didn’t she raise Alice right,Queefs?

But just look at her!!


Brazen little slut!



You know who else is also out of hibernation?

The Jehovah Witnesses.

But nobody is excited about that.

And they have young boys with them all the time now.

Crissy is thinking it’s not just the Catholics anymore if you know what she’s saying.

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.)

Today, perhaps even as you are reading this, I will be putting Girlfriend on the bus headed for kindergarten, trying desperately not to cry until it rolls away. I don’t know where I’m going to pull the strength from, but I have to find it so I don’t freak her out.

I have issues with the bus, Queefies.

I’m quite certain that somehow there is a black hole that exists between the bus and the classroom that sucks unsuspecting kindergartners in, never to be seen again and unlike some people, I actually want to see my kindergartner again.

There’s also a black hole in the ventilation system at the mall, you know. I never look up when I’m in a big mall because it reminds me to be scared that I’m going to be sucked into the vents and then POOF! Bye, bye, Crissy.

Shut up.

It could totally happen.

Maybe all those people you hear about on the news who go missing at the mall are alive somewhere in the ductwork over Banana Republic.

I don’t really think Girlfriend is going to get sucked into a black hole. Don’t worry. It just seems totally weird and really bad mommyish to just put my baby on a bus and not see her again until much later in the afternoon and just assume she’s fine.

Like, isn’t somebody going to call me to let me know how she’s doing?

Like, can’t I call the school to check on her?

Like, can’t I stand outside the classroom window and tap on the glass and wave “hi” to her?

No. I cannot. I don’t want to be that asshole even though I really, really want to be that asshole.

And so Homeslice, whom Girlfriend calls “The Little Bother,” and I, who she calls “Fuss About,” will walk her to her bus stop and put her on the bus. Hopefully, she will get on it without one of her diva style incidents she’s so famous for, and then we will go home and figure out what we’re going to do without her stealing toys and making messes all over the house. Perhaps we’ll even have time to write our blog and wouldn’t that be something?

Maybe I will find my sense of humor again now that I’m not spending my days refereeing fights, denying eleventy million requests for a “treat” and re-capping markers?

I’m trying to look at all the positives here.

I bought her a Good Luck bear necklace to wear today.  She’s wicked into Care Bears. When I give it to her I’m going to tell her that when she feels nervous or scared, just touch her necklace and Good Luck bear will surround her with luck.  She has a good imagination.  It might work.

And my sweet, wonderful friend Ms.Darkstar made her some special First Day of School perfume!  It’s in solid form, like lip balm, and she sent three scents–Blueberry, which is Girlfriend’s favorite, Honey Rose, which is my favorite, and an amazing Berry Peach.  You guys need to get some of this stuff because it’s not loaded with chemical crap and you’re not gonna get body rot from it. There’s seriously only like 5 ingredients and they’re all stuff I recognize, so I have no problem putting it on my kid.  She feels so grown up to have her very own perfume!  It’s really cute.

So yes.  If it’s about 9:00 when you’re reading this, say a little prayer for your Crissy that she can manage to hold the water works until Girlfriend gets on the bus.

And it’s a Toy with Me day today!  I’ll get you that link in a sec.


Dating For Ugly People

Bad news, you guys.

Mister hacked the Wii and now we have every game imaginable, and the Wii is plugged into a very large TV in front of a very comfortable couch in the basement next to a fridge full of beer and a bar. All we’re missing is a microwave to heat up nacho cheese sauce and it’s every man’s fantasyland.

I go to bed alone.

I wake up alone.

I find myself shouting things down the basement stairs like “DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS????” And I hear things shouted back at me like “YOU’RE NOT MY MOTHER!”

And then yesterday I came downstairs in the morning to find that while I was at work the night before, Mister had a little Wii party in the basement and didn’t so much as lift a dish to put it in the dishwasher, and the house was in chaos, and Girlfriend had apparently eaten Fruity Snacks (all natural of course but it’s still not really fruit despite what Mister thinks) for dinner and Homeslice probably ate her socks because I still can’t find them.  And in Girlfriend’s room, I found Hello Kitty wearing a pair of Homeslice’s pants with a hole cut into the back so her tail could come out

I kind of knew something was up when I came home that night because he was all nice to me.  And I was like “why are you being so nice to me?” and he was like “I can’t be nice to my wife?  I love you!” And I’m all “what did you do?”  And he’s all “NOTHING! I SWEAR! JEEZUS!!!”


I went BULLSHIT when I found the evidence.

And so I put the Wiimotes in my purse and brought them to work with me.

Yes I did.

And you know what you guys?  I came home to the gentle hum of the dishwasher running and Girlfriend’s room all picked up and the books and all the toys put away and the children happy and bathed and pajama-ed and nobody had a hole in the back of their pants.

There was no discussion as to the whereabouts of the Wiimotes because he knew.

The End.

PS: Girlfriend is an amazing liar.  I’m totally bringing her with me next time I tried to return used/worn things to Macy’s.  You should have seen her innocent little face when she told me that the pants were like that when she found them and that maybe Homeslice cut that hole herself.  She actually almost convinced me before I came to my senses and had to call bullshit on her.  Don’t get me wrong, Queefs.  Homeslice is pretty smart.  She says “hi” and “Alice” and “mama” and she can wave bye-bye at people and she almost does the “SO BIG ” thing, but as far as I know, she cannot use scissors.  I mean seriously, she just figured out how mirrors work.