I would like to have a catchy title, but I used my last funny thought photoshopping shit

 I have been in the midst of a funk.    I just don’t know why, well I do, but they are such first world problems that I hate to be a whiny bitch.  Everything is great at home, hubby is his normal fantastic self, the girls are full of their usual Exorcist moments, bitches one second and then crying because you walked by and didn’t hug them.  (Holy Cripes, they are only 7 and 10 – how much more difficult is it going to get???)

I have a great group of friends – they are just as wacked as me, and I love them.  I am cleaning house in terms of friends and wondering why I didn’t do this when the crazy train first started.  I think that from now on, if I get that first hint, you know the one where I have to plan certain events with certain people only – I am going to cut the friendship strings then and there.  

It’s not that I want everyone to agree with me or have the same opinion.  I love having friends with diverse opinions, as long as they aren’t trying to shove them down when we disagree.  We can believe in different things, we CAN have different political opinions! 

So to that one crazy lady that is spiraling down into a flaming mass of what the fuckery, and where the sheer amusement factor in watching is better than any Spanish soap opera that I have ever witnessed, you rock on girl!  (Yes, I am going to hell – but damn my tan will look F-I-N-E). 

So what the hell is my problem??   

My biggest problems are my insane dreams of the Zombie Apocalypse.  Is it wrong to dream of the Zombie Apocalypse?  Because maybe, just maybe I could get my shit together and feel a little energized?  Kidding….kind of…

Well, with that maudlin intro – Let me tell you some of the funnier shit that has been happening lately:

Balls, Boobs and Vomit

SO CLOSE

My friend (Ro-fighter) and I were blessed with 6^th row, behind home plate tickets to the Giants.  

And what an epic night!  

It started with the crazy guy sitting next to us trying to stroke our arms and legs and his friend who tried to make up for creepy stroker man by buying us all our beer.  All I kept thinking was that my hubby was going to see me on TV with some asshat trying to touch my arm and trying to rub Ro-fighters shoulder.  

This then led to me getting a mini-standing ovation for threatening to kick the stroker’s ass.  I just couldn’t take it anymore, and whimpy Ro-fighter was saving all of her juice for her mass transit fights later.  So, I stood up, grabbed stroker’s arm and twisted it by his head yelling at him that if he touches us again, I am going to rip his arm off and beat him with it.  At this point, all of the boys behind us were clapping and cheering me on.  Stroker, realizing that some girl was going to bitch slap him with his own appendage, decided to hi-tail it out of his seat.  Of course, Stroker’s BFF tried to make it up to us by continuing to pour beer down our throats.   

Even Waldo got into the Mix!

This made Ro-fighter and I very happy, since we were more than willing to take the free drinks and then head out on our own.  On our way home, my little shit starter, Ro-fighter, decided to take on all of the Barak Obama supporters in a crowed Bay Area train, firing off the topic -  “What Barak Obama has done for YOU”.   

Holy Shit, it was like she was torturing small babies right in front of them all!  

While, Ro and I might not agree on our political affiliations, arguing with drunken people and arguing about Politics never ends well.    The only thing that saved us in starring in Throw Mama from the Train was a gigantic heave of barf.  

That’s right – our elitist butts were saved by a fountain of vomit that erupted from the girl sitting near us.  I have never seen grown people leap and move so fast to run to other parts of the train, it was ten shades of AWESOME.    So what did we do, we took a picture of it!

Oh, and we saw this couple......interesting

And this lady was VERY VERY VERY mad at Ro-fighter and I for laughing on the train.  Apparently, only deep thoughts and intellectual conversation are allowed on the train.

Crazy Train, Party of ONE

Holy Batman nuts – there is a level of crazy going around lately that makes the Riddler look like a Clozapine spokesman.  Apparently a former friend of ours is spreading a rumor that my hubby is stalking her.  He is stalking her by driving by her house every day!!  This is batshit crazy stuff, since he drives by her house to get to ours.  As a matter of fact, I drive by her house a shit load, does that mean that I am stalking her too?  I think the FedEx guy is sleeping with her too, since he drives by her house as well.  Oh, and apparently, all she has to do to get Hubby in her bed is crook a finger and he will come running to service her.  AHHHHAAAAHHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.

Holee CRAP – I haven’t been at this level of psycho since I was in college and my roommate, after fucking Randy Quaid, tried to sneak into my bedroom and rub their combined juices on me so that I would feel famous too.  ACK, ACK, ACK – I don’t even know what to say!   Poor Hubby, he has never dealt with this level of crazy and just walks away shaking his head.  Of course, I take EVERY SINGLE MOMENT to rub this in and will call him at random times to find out who he is stalking. 

Halloween, Halloween, Halloween 

 Trick or Treat!

Hubby and I every year attend a Halloween party put on by one of our friends.  Every year, we go as a themed couple.  One year, we were Santa Clause and Santa’s Ho.  It was awesome, my makeup was perfectly smeared across my face and Hubby had a goody bag full of Trojan Magnum’s and Ring Lolly Pop’s.  Last year, Hubby wore his fire turn out’s and I was “Naughty Spotty” – complete with black spots and a cute collar.  As we were walking into the party, I get clipped in the neck.  As I turn to try and figure what the heck was going on, I see that Hubby has clipped a leash on me.  Jackass….but funny!

This year, Hubby came up with a GREAT idea, but a little too late.  He wanted to be Fantasy Island, we me as Tattoo and Hubby as Mr. Roarke.  EPIC!  Alas, the party is Saturday.  So we will be going as lame masquerade people….do you think I can scrounge up two white leisure suits quickly??

It's a good thing that Tattoo and I are the same height!

Dear Twatbagders.....suck it

Yes, I’m talking about you.

Oh, oh, oh, sorry, I didn’t mean you (you who are reading my blog, I know you guys are cool)  

I am talking about those asshats in the general public that we have to deal with all the time.

You, sirs, to coin a phrase from  Noa , are insufferable members of society.  

Let’s take a little test shall we to see if you find that you run into these twatbadgers while YOU are being a productive member of society.

I am thinking of forming a new club and calling it, “WAPAT”  Short for Women Against Pretentious Ass Twats. 

 I was thinking about calling it mother’s against pretentious ass twats, but just because we are Mom’s doesn’t mean that we cut out the vagina when we cut the cord.

So....let's begin the WAPAT checklist

At the park, do the other Mom’s avoid you because you let your child get dirty?  Or because you are not obsessively screaming their name and telling them how to play.    Yes?  JOIN WAPAT 

Do you get the evil eye when you are drinking your wine box juice box at sporting events (soccer games, baseball games, picnic events, farmers market outings, school plays – for those I use my “coffee” mug)  Yes, JOIN WAPAT

Do you get the hair toss when you don’t obsessively talk about how much your husband makes, what FAB-U-LOUS vacation you are going on next, or debating the merits of the next hybrid SUV vs. your new Volvo SUV.  Yes, fucking come join WAPAT

Did you get the raspy growl of disapproval when mentioning that you are going to get drunk with your fellow WAPAT’s and go heckle Magic Mike?  Fuck you bitch, I’m gonna do some seriously heckling and cat calling at Magic Mike.

Do you take close and personal shots of yourself and then go an retouch them with instagram before posting on Facebook with the tag…..beautiful…..naturally.  Yeah, jackass you are still taking a picture with your phone you twatipster .  Yep, you fucking can NOT be part of WAPAT. 

Do you find yourself in a crowd of people who like to educate you on how you should think??  Yes??  Then you can absolutely join WAPAT.  Our motto is….while we think you are one cool ass shizzle bitch, we can agree to disagree. 

Do you find yourself frowning over the whiney ass kids today and their fucking over tolerant parent….fucking join WAPAT – where we believe that losing sporting events and not giving trophies to everyone should be the norm.  It’s called losing…..get used to it.  That is why victory taste so good, because it doesn’t happen all the time you TWATS.

Do you frown at people who use words like Fuck, Twat, Twatwaffle, Twat Badger, girl wood, reverse Mormon, douchecanoe, anus cracker, wee jobby, oh I could go on forever.  If you frown…there is no entry.  No WAPAT for you!

If you tell your child, or anyone else’s child that the drink you are holding is a Daddy Soda or Mommy drink….automatic entry.

If you believe in the Zombie Apocalpyse….in a funny and humorous way and not in the Doomsday Preppers Way….You are a shoe in!!

If you like being an armchair activist and putting out calls to arms on your blog and/or Facebook, you cannot join.  Mostly because you probably are a patchouli smelling douchebag and it’s my club…so na na na na.

If you are Weenie’s classmates reading Sla’s blog, you are automatically included.   Only if she says you are cool, because I have heard some stories about you crazies!!!  Kidding….kidding !!  Keep up the good work so that you can take care of my aging parts.  I will require your assistance one day with the “jazzling”  and you fuckers better be smart.

So in closing…..While WAPAT is still in early formation, I will be closely  reviewing your application and if I don’t like you, you can’t join.  (kidding, no I’m not, well maybe I am, …well…kinda, sorta…more than likely)

And in other random news, I want to share with you the picture of my dog.  He is on his way to get “tutored”.  Yep, he is going to get his balled snipped off.  Which is a good thing because those things are so fucking shiny and in your face that they need to go.  Also, my girls keep asking questions about his shiny balls and lipstick that I am having trouble answering without snickering and using potty language.

Ahh, whose gonna get their balls cut off....whose gonna...don't look at me if your gonna....

The shizzle that is said

I just had to write a quick post to share with you all the funny shizzle that came out of my co-workers mouths today....

What do you need to have an intelligent conversation? - said by one co-worker on the phone to a vendor...fucking HIlarious!

If you can't pull your own head out, then I can't even begin to help you. - said by co-worker Sarah to one of her subcontractors.

If you call me baby one more time, I am going to reach through this phone and twist your balls so tight that you will rival Justin Bieber on even his most pubescent days.  - co worker that will remain anonymous since she was so pissed I think the comment was involuntary!

Back soon peeps...back soon!  I am still recovering from the weekend!

Jewess Jeans.....you don't have to be Jewish, but it wouldn't hurt!

  Man, this post was a bust earlier!  So sorry to those that viewed and nothing was here, it was supposed to be my tribute to Gilda!!  So here we go, part deux!




Jewess Jeans....they are made to RIDE UP!!

Eating yourself and nothing....cause I have nothing

So, its a slow day and I've been really busy at work.  Also, I have been trying not to blow my wad before the A-Z blogging challenge, since I have to blog EVERY DAY in April.  EVERY DAY.....

I have been emailing myself ideas and some of them are really good......let's hope!!  Some of them are a little crazy because I was probably a little loopy and thought something was really funny....and now....I can't even remember what I thought was so funny about it.

Whatevs...

January Jones eats her placenta

So, I was watching the news the other night and they were talking about January Jones from Mad Men eating her placenta.  Now, ewwww.  That is just nasty, why would you want to eat your afterbirth??  I don't care how you think this helps you.  The reason that animals eat their own afterbirth...IS BECAUSE THEY ARE ANIMALS!   My dog eats the shit of my other dog as it is dropping out of her butt.  This does not mean that I need to hunker down and eat this shit too!   People, get a grip.  We are not malnutritioned, we don't need this extra protein.

I don't care how you cook it....its nasty.

It's almost as bad as the mall that was pumping the smell of breast milk through the HVAC system to make people happier.  


Really??  Booby juice is going to make you happy?  


Well...wait a second...it made my girls fat and sassy....maybe it can make others too!   

So now that I am out of things to say (I need to last longer for later, damn it!!)  I give you THIS

Shine on Vin Diesel...Shine on.....

Courtesy of Mandi over at Smexy books.  Mandi @ Smexy!!  Who not only provides high quality pictures, but also rocks it with the book reviews!!  She has never given me a bad recommendation!!

And now...Elvis has left the building

Update - Check out Monica's blog....she has recipes....for placenta cocktails....SO WRONG

Monica @ Dirty Hooker