Zee End

And so we end the expectation of me blogging EVERY DAY (almost)  

It was a challenge, I did it, some was good and some was just all right.  Now we can get back to the business of me tell all you weeniers to Shut the Front Door!!

Stay tuned, I got the bearded lady for my birthday!!!

Yes, It's my Birthday!!

Yes, I am shamelessly stating that today is my birthday.  And as such, I will be partying it up with my family somewhere in the foothills.  If I feel so inclined and the pictures don't turn out too mortifying.  I will share them. 

But for today - it's my Birthday Bitches....

And just to tell you how special I am, the exact minute that I was born an explosion rocked the hospital so hard that the operating room went dark, the doctor was holding me in his hands and was unable to see until the emergency generator kicked on and they whisked me away.  Poor Mommy, first baby, only 19 years old, emergency C-section that ends up with your baby being born amid explosions and you can't even see her.

So if you wonder why my personality is so explosive.....here you go......

From the news wire:

On that fateful day April 28, 1973, a 103 car train, 21 of which contained bombs en route to the Concord Naval Weapons Station arrived at the Antelope receiving yards in Roseville, Ca at 6:30 a.m.  Loaded with about 300 bombs per car, or 7,000 total.  At 8:04 a.m., the bombs started exploding after a boxcar caught fire.  The massive explosions created huge plumes of smoke, destroying building, mangled rail sections and left huge craters in the ground.  The explosions caused damage to 5500 buildings up to 6,800 feet  (2,070 miles) away.  The cause of the initial car fire has never been determined.

Sources:  Wikipedia and the Auburn Journal Historical Section.

My birth certificate cites the time of my birth at 8:04 a.m.

"X" is for Xrated

Do you ever speak X rated?? 

I don’t know about you, maybe it is just me and all the people that I hang out with, but our BBQ talk seems to devolve.

You know, I have always wanted to have one of those BBQ’s, where we wear little polo shirts and polo skirts and there is white linen and crystal wine glasses to sip from.  

Where music is gently playing in the background, children are minded by all of their own nannies so that the adults can have hi-flutin’ conversations.  

Discussions about the state of the economy, whether or not your Rolls Royce is stocked with Grey Poupon, the cost of domestic help, how my 1% salary can influence small countries. 

You know, shit like that.

Instead, most of my BBQ’s look something like this.

Conversations revolve around how fake titties really feel.

Pictures that are taken involve showing us your drink and your gang sign of 2 in the pink and 1 in the stink.   

What have you ever pulled out of someone’s ass (remember most of my friends are either cops or firemen)

The grossest dead body that you have ever seen

Old people in nighties rubbing against you

Taking pictures of the size of your shit to show your friends, cause, Dude it was EPIC – it breached out of the water.

Can you really spin a midget on your penis?

Regurgitation of what space docking, Portuguese breakfast, goatse, and other strange internet phenomena’s.  Also, you must Google and then show said BBQ friends on your iPhone.  (Note to blog readers:  DO NOT ATTEMPT, ONCE LEARNED, IT CAN NOT BE UNLEARED)

Why stretchy vagina’s leak and with that the art of bling bling’ing your hoo hoo.

The shows with people’s strange addictions, real dolls, and what type of vibrators you own.  (Note to party friends – Bringing out said appliances is NOT socially acceptable) 

Why people like to pretend to be horses, have naked people saddle them and ride them.  (Personal thoughts – I don’t like to get dusty naked)

Making techno music noises why you show me your best stripper pole dancing impersonation (and no, this is not the girls doing this)

Also bringing out your old furrbie costume to show me you still have mad skills kind of ewws me out.  I do NOT want to feel how soft it is and really the crusty patches made me kind of vom in my mouth!

After writing all of this out, I think I will take the X rated parties – at least I know here my bellowing out F-U-C-K will be answered back with a I’ll beer ‘ya call.

(PS - Newt if you are reading this, I promise (hand to God) to not blog his name or take pictures if you will invite him over.  I've got serious questions that need to be answered)

"W" is for the Walking Dead...DUH

The Walking Dead.....one of the BEST FREAKING ZOMBIE/END OF THE WORLD TV SHOWS...EVER!!

If you don't watch it, go bang your head.  I know, I know, that is not nice, but seriously if you can get past the blood and guts it is AWESOME.  The story lines, the reality of the situations, the sheer drama and...and...and...and... I can't find the right word.  The Apocalypse of it all....(even that word is wrong)  


The Walking Dead makes you think....what would you do....what decisions would you make....what changes to your personality would come out....would you be able to make those tough decisions to go back and save other people at the peril of your own family or those that you are with.  Would you make the same decisions as Shane or would you be more like Rick, always putting yourself on the line for your family and for everyone else in your group??

You head spins on Sunday night as you lay in bed, thinking of all the ways that this show would impact your life if something like this happened.  A virus breaks out and kills a majority of the population, turning some to "Walkers" and leaving the rest to pick up the pieces of humanity.  


How would you react?  Would you give up or would you fight??  What if you got pregnant?  If you had children still alive, what would you do....would you show them to fight or would you have them give up?? How would you handle bringing a baby into this brave new world?  The show is just incomparable.  It makes the list of my top favorite ever, and is the only TV show that I would consider buying the series once it has concluded.  

So before the new season starts in the Summer....get your ass in gear and start watching Season 1 and Season 2 - there WILL be a quiz!!

Verily, its all about the Va-jay-jay

Kind of like this...but lower

I bet you didn’t know that there was a vajazzling website??  

Pffffttt, hell, neither did I…Did you know there are “how to” videos on this site?  NEITHER DID I…..Holy Spaceballs.  Did you know that people can submit their own pictures??
  

this was a "mild" picture!!!

ACCKKKKK….disco balling my lady bits…what is the world coming to??

If you are so inclined….VISIT here…They call themselves the "official" Vajazzling Site

Apparently, you can also get Vaginoplasty and have your lady bits tightened and restored so that your vagina and supporting structures get rebuilt. 


 Also, if you are feeling a little bit down in the dumps and low on self-esteem, you can also get a labiaplasty so that you can “recreate a more youthful and aesthetically pleasing external genital structure, which will enhance your self image and self-esteem!!”

I didn’t know that my bits were “aesthetically pleasing” in the first place??  And seriously people, you HAVE to thank me for not showing you the pictures that I witnessed during my research.  OMFGAWD, seriously one hoo-hoo looked like it had one of those tube worms (you know the kind that you see in warm ocean waters) coming out of their labia.

Or having plastic surgery to re-attach your hymen so that you can “re-create “ your virginity.  Seriously, seriously.  It wasn’t a basket of flowers losing it in the first place, why on earth would I want to re-create that sweaty, groping, painful, short moment?  I’ll take my experience, Hubby’s serious experience and morph them together into a toe curling session that will knock my boots off.  Pffttt…go back to the beginning…no fucking way.

 Of course, my girls chose that exact moment to check out what I was doing on the computer and we had to stop for a minute and talk about our lady bits and why things looked a certain way.

This then reminded me about all the things that my mom never told me to watch out for when having girls….

For instance……..

A discussion on why Barbie’s feet do not get inserted into our privates when we are in the bathtub.

Why we can’t fit bathtub letters up there either, for that matter.

Why it isn’t acceptable do walk around naked and smack our private parts while dancing.

Or that your girls from infant to 3 can get labial adhesions where the hole totally closes up??  Yeah, that one was a little scary when I changed the diaper of Girl #1.  I swear I sat there for a moment and was like????  I picked her up, turned her over and started counting holes.  I swear to god, for a minute I almost got a mirror to check myself.  After hyperventilating for a second, I called the Pedi – apparently its totally normal and with a little topical hormonal cream, it opened back up.  Although, the pediatrician did not appreciate my hubby’s humor of asking if we could keep it that way until she was 18. 

To quote Joe Rogan…embrace the power of the pussy…but just don’t show me.  And chillax on the bedazzling....your hoo hoo is blinding me!!

UnFRICKING Unimaginable

Do you ever imagine the unimaginable? 

It sounds like a really confusing Confucius statement that you would get from a fortune cookie, right??

But lately, I have been having the most unimaginable dreams and I have no idea why.  I don’t eat chocolate late, I actually stopped buying sweets so that I don’t tempt myself.  It really sucks because when I do have the craving, I have to shuffle around in the pantry and the fridge, before I just eat an apple for something healthy.  Note to self:  You suck at the grocery store!!

Back to my dreams – Crazytown doesn’t do them justice:

I swear we used protection!!

I had a dream that all my toes were penises.  Yes, you heard me right, all of my toes were little baby dicks and I could do nothing but wiggle them and watch them grow.  In my dream I was horrified and slightly fascinated and my husband kept demanding to see them and then he would fall over laughing.

I dreamt that my husband was a vampire and I was his slave, someone was asking me how I could keep him from mauling me, to which I replied, “duh, I give him sex every day…EVERYDAY” I think I was exhausted when I woke up.

I will go Fried Green Tomatoes on your  ASS

This one was crazy and made me get up and check every door, every lock, and every window and kiss my babies twice. I was dreaming that we were in Target and I couldn’t find my #1 girl – looked everywhere for her.  Since every god damn store that we visit those kids have to use the bathroom, I checked the restroom.  I found some strange man holding my daughter and trying to keep her quiet by covering her face and mouth with his hands.  I felt that feeling sweep over me, you know the one, the incendiary angry feeling where you feel that flush crawl up your neck and you feel that your head might explode.  I can only describe the feeling as one where I was an impartial observer watching myself catapult across the bathroom to tear my child from this man.  In my dream, I tucked her in a corner, and proceeded to turn to this man.  I could totally see myself cocking my head at him in that serial killer fashion and backed him into the corner between the sink and the door.  The next part is either based on some crazy book that I read or is an insight into my psyche if you ever fuck with my kids.  But in my dream, I proceeded to rip great big chunks of flesh off this man, screaming like a banshee and eating bits and pieces of his flesh.  The really gross part, is that I can still remember the feeling of the rending of his flesh, the feeling of digging my nails into the skin and ripping.  It was very surreal and very disturbing.  I think that I would rather have penis toes then have to dream this again.

They have my ears...

Also, I gave birth to husky puppies and my husband was very angry accusing me of cheating on him.

FEED ME MAMA...FEED ME

Apparently, Stewie from the Family Guy lived under my bed and I had to feed him constantly.  But Stewie didn’t live on normal food, no no no, Stewie lived on toe jam.  You know how tired you get when you have a newborn, where you put the milk in the cupboard and the cereal in the fridge or you walk outside and totally forget that you don’t have pants on because you can barely function from the lack of sleep.  Well, apparently feeding Stewie toe jam was making me exhausted and I was so tired that all I could do was just hang my foot over the side of the bed to feed him.  He would lick my foot all night long….until I woke up and something was licking my foot.  After I booted the dog in the head and banged my own head on the wall scrambling to get away from her, I came back to reality.

I think I might need dream therapy……….maybe Prozac….naw….I’ll just drink more before bed time!!

What crazy un*fricking believable dreams have you had?  Don’t make me live on the island alone.  

PLLLLEEEAAAEEEEEE.

R….S……T….(aww fuck, I let life get in the way)

So, I suck, I know…but in my defense life shizzle got in the way.  

Friday, I spent the majority of my day at the San Francisco building department.  And I know that most of are going to say, “But it was a beautiful day in the City!!”  And I would say yes, with ONE BIG BUT….

It took me 3 GODDAMNHOURS to get 40 miles, I swear every major bridge that one can cross to get into San Francisco had major traffic accidents for Friday morning making me very late.  So instead of having the top off my car and being nice and toasty warm and feeling Friday free, I was sunburnt, angry and had a massive cramp from holding in pee the size of Niagara Falls.  

So after slugging my way into the City, I race towards the building department and proceed to hang out there for the next worst five hours of my life.  I spent these hours with the biggest twatbadger that I could have ever imagined.  Take one miserable county employee, embolden with the crankiness of 1000 grumpy old men and compress him into a tiny 30 something package.  

Now normally, I can handle these guys a couple of ways, either I usually use my charm and smile and try to be very friendly or I put on my intense face on, the one that tries to show that I am really listening intently to every word that you have to say because I feel that you are impotent (and yes, I meant to spell it that way)  Normally, this works…..but with this guy….he either 

(1) got laid badly, (2) needs to get laid, or (3) will require a jackhammer to remove the stick stuck so far up his ass that he could open his mouth to roast marshmallows nicely for you.  ARGH…I could of done bodily harm to him.

The fire guys….I love them, they were awesome as usual.

Then, my husband left me.  I know, you are shocked huh….well, he left me for a week to go to some conference in SLO (San Luis Obispo) that will make him all important and so that he can be official when he is on TV and shit.  And he left me…with a house full of bitches….for six days…..he will make homage to me when he returns!

So my “R” was going to be road relations, you know the kind of relations that can either get you in trouble or make the car ride nice and relaxing.  My experience with road relations has been the trouble sort.  See, on my way to Prom, my boyfriend at the time begged me to provide him with a little “road relaxation” and I did……much to the amusement of every trucker within CB radio distance that was able to view what was going up and down on I-80.  The CB traffic was so lit up that apparently the CHP wanted to get in on the action, so they pulled the car over.  Of course, by this time, I had myself all arranged and was trying to look very “innocent” in my prom dress.  But no, I was asked to get out….and I was taken to the Chippy’s car where I was asked what was going on, after a couple minutes of innocent denial, I spilled my 17 year old guts.  And I proceeded to get the best lecture ever, “Do you want me to call your parents and tell them that you died with a dick in your mouth???”  “Do you….do you…young lady???”  What the fuck am I supposed to say to counter that one, Officer Smarty Pants?  Yes??  My dad would be so proud??  Yeah, so poor hubby – due to my trauma – hand jobs is about all I will offer.

As for “S” and “T”…..I have combined them into a wonderful, fabulous drink that I had on Friday night!!  AGAIN!!  Salt and Tequila (Patron – of course)  See picture below…..

and I had TWO….and….and…and…I don’t remember much after that but Hubby and I did continue the party later, where I ended up accidently falling asleep in the bed in one of my “disappearing tricks” and he ended up in the hot tub alone.  Sorry Hubby!!

Also, I wanted to talk Texts….because I got the best text from my friend Nat the other day….Nat of…NATurally Inappropriate

Nat:  Men’s Underwear…Discuss

Me:  Marky Mark wore it best

Nat:  Boxers or briefs?

Me:  Boxers

Me:  Tight boxers

Nat:  Patterns?

Me:  No solids

Me:  Black

Me:  Not the cock but the boxers

Nat:  BAAHHHAHHHAHA

I meant to say…stupid auto correct…that I like black or dark color tight boxers only…NEVER white…and it kinda came out wrong.

BAAADDDD Doggie!

And finally, I am closing “T” today with a T-shirt that I am going to buy for my husband.  We had an incident not too long ago, with “smelly” things in the bathroom.  Since then, his key phrase has been that twatwaffles are never buttery.

When good twatwaffles go BAD

Questions.....I've got 'em!

I’ve got questions…..questions that don’t necessarily need to be answered, but if you’ve got the time and/or inclination, please help a bitch out.

Or, if you’ve got questions, maybe I can help you answer them.  See, do you see what I just did here; I just created a win-win situation for us both!  Damn, I am so smart.  (PS – It’s all the smarties that I stole out of my children’s candy baskets at Halloween, they are just kickin’ in!)

Get Outta the road Turkey

First, I want to know why that damn gaggle of turkeys is stalking me.  Every damn day, EVERY day, as I travel down the dark stretch of back road that is the first part of my commute, they are there.  I know this; I just know that those muthafuckers wait until I hit that curve at 50 miles an hour and they jump out in front of me.  See, I think it’s a game that they like to play with me; I call the game Thanksgiving dinner.  One of these days I am going to hit one of those bastards and stuff ‘em for dinner. 

Wear the hat Dwight, wear the hat

Why do Dwight Yoakum’s songs make my hips wiggle, but his face makes me put on a chastity belt?

For the love of all that is holy, when will my boobs stop aching when small babies cry?  I stopped breastfeeding over six years ago and the minute I am around one shrill crying infant my boobs totally swell up and ache….I am not a fuckin cow, I do not make milk on demand…stop crying!!!

                       Proof

Speaking of cows, we are all in agreement here…there are no questions…they ARE ALIENS…if you don’t believe……click here…..See...see they are REALLY ALIENS

Damn ears

Why does my husband undermine my spank bank?  Every time I mention I think that someone is cute, he slyly points out something to me….that guy on the Sci Fi series Stargate Atlantis…not the moobie one, but the other one…I mentioned that he was cute, and then hubby said, “Did you ever look at his ears, they are pointed, maybe he is part elf”  GODDAMNIT HUBBY….now every time I look at him all I focus on are his Spock like ears.

Why do my muscle relaxer pills say that I can take (3) in one day.  Because I two (2) within six hours of each other and I became a zombie.  Yep, that is right, a zombie…no higher brain function, drooling on myself, falling down (more so than normal you bitches) and the ability to speak in tongues.  All I was missing was the stigmata and I could have heralded the end of the world.

Did you eat poo, did YOU??, see he wont look me in the eye!

Why does my pure bred dog eat shit?  This is the first dog that we have ever purchased from a breeder (the rest of our dogs we gotten through rescue’s).  This dog, all expensive like, is one step below my zombie relaxed self….

Why do my children feel the need to hold my boobies up when they stand in front of me?  It’s not like I am not wearing a supportive bra, I am trying to keep them up you little bitches, the fact that you constantly let me know that gravity is just around the corner does not help mommy’s mood or make me want to buy you shit.

Why does Justice clothing market slutty clothing to my girls??  Both they and Old Navy – no my babies do not need string bikinis and flashdance ripped up shirts. 

Why are you wearing your Juicy sweat outfits jogging?  Shit you not, just yesterday I saw this lady (pretending to jog, but really walking) and she was decked out in her bling bling juicy track suit, complete with full make up, and hair in a high pony.  She smiled at my husband, but she got this evil scowling look when she saw me.  Ha ha, you read my blog….twatwaffle.

Why is my friend Jenn so afraid of midgets?  This is unknown, so to help her out I have collected the following t-shirts that I am going to give her:

Just in case there was a question

Jenn - ask for more INFO

Jenn - isn't your favorite color blue??

See Jenn - they would be the perfect height

Jenn - you always dreamed about firemen

BWWAAAAA

Mr T looks so cool

Think of how tall we would be Jenn!!

You've got questions??  Hit me up, maybe I could help you out!!