When I Get Old, I Shall Still Have a Potty Mouth

I was driving around in my pajama bottoms yesterday after I took Twin B to work and I noticed a new old folks home along the road. It has some ridiculous name like Magnolia Fields Retirement Community. How do developers come up with dumb names like that?

Just because you’re old doesn’t mean that you have lost your sense of humor. At least I hope not. If I built retirement communities, I’d name them stuff like Boneyard Estates and Renal Failure Acres. I’d also put a day care center for kids in every single one. The old people could come and watch the little ankle biters run around on an indoor playground behind a soundproof glass window. Sort of like how-much-is-that-puppy-in-the-window pet stores. Then I’d open a betting window right next to that so that the old timers could place bets on which kid is gonna break his arm or who Suzy was going to bite today. Good times. That would be much more entertaining than watching Matlock on TV or complaining about your goiters.

Speaking of naming things, we could do a better job with that all around. Instead of Sun City Tanning, let’s rename it Helen’s House of Melanoma or Moles A Million. Don’t tell my dermatologist, but I go microwave myself a couple of times a week. Tan fat looks better than white fat.

It’s a short blog day and that trend will continue for a while. Tomorrow is August 1st. The countdown to college has begun in earnest and there are many boxes to pack and last minute things to take care of. Like tuition bills that should be listed on the college’s website menu as Give Us Your Money. All of it.

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I Got that Lovin’ Feeling

Thanks to that beautiful Idiot over at Is Everyone an Idiot But Me I received a Versatile Blogger Award! I have to nominate some bloggers in return for this good deed. Here are some peeps who write good shit. Go give ’em a look!

OMG I so need a glass of wine or I’m gonna sell my kids

The More the Messier

Altering Education

Bye Bye Pie

Listful Thinking

pithy pants

The Irrefutable Opinion


On The School Ground

Cleaver Magazine

The Dirty Nikka

Praying to Darwin

Gerbil News Network

How the Hell did I End Up Here

Bishop Dan

I’m also supposed to tell seven facts about me.

1. I don’t have any tattoos

2. I have ten toes and nine toenails

3. I love musicals

4. I wanted to be a Muppeteer and work for Jim Henson when I grew up

5. My current favorite TV series that I’m watching from the beginning is Sons of Anarchy

6. I think farts are funny

7. I wear Birkenstocks (don’t judge me; I have plantar fasciitis)

OhYesMoreJamMom-82117          I love you You piece of shit

Mother of the Year is the next award I’m jonesing for…


If you have been nominated, here are The Rules:

1. Display the award on your blog.

2. Make a post about your win and link back to the wonderful person who nominated you.

3. Present 15 other deserving bloggers with the award.

4. Drop them a comment after your post to tip them off of their win.

5. Post 7 interesting things about yourself.

Watching Porn with Granny

I had an interesting weekend and saw some things that I thought you might need to read about on Monday morning. Screw the newspaper. It sucks.

  • A Mexican guy cooked my Japanese hibachi meal on Saturday. There were lots of authentic Japanese peeps running around but they weren’t doing the cooking. I wondered if the Mexican guys had been kidnapped from the El Foodo restaurant next door. Seemed suspicious to me. It was also very strange that one of the few beer choices at the Japanese hibachi place was Corona. Hmmm…
  • Went to the movies on Friday and saw the To Do List. If you will remember, my Thursday post was a to do list… Coincidence? I think not. Anyway the movie was lame and awkward. It’s about a girl that sets out to do all sorts of sexual deeds before she goes to college. I have girls that are going to college in a few short weeks. I really didn’t need to see that shit. My disappointment in choosing this movie caused me to eat the entire large popcorn and bucket of diet coke. The even weirder part was that there weren’t many people in the movie and what ones were, were old ladies. I mean nursing home, iron lung, turn up your hearing aide, hover-around riding old ladies. The To Do list is raunchy. It was like watching porn with your granny. I wanted to go put my hands over their wrinkly eyes. Very disconcerting to say the least.
  • I have a friend that had a cochlear implant put in this last week. I’m glad she got it because I’ve exhausted my store of Helen Keller and various other jokes about being deaf. I’m also tired of typing in all caps so that she can “hear” me when we PM. I ask her everyday to try and find the magnet in her head by sticking metal objects on her skull. She wanted to start with a paper clip. I suggested a tuna can. Neither stuck. I think she might have gotten ripped off by her doctor and he just drilled a hole in her head to fuck with her. If that implant doesn’t work, he is gonna find a tuna can someplace really uncomfortable and it won’t be in his head.
  • I thought Shakey was dead on Friday. He was lying on the welcome door mat outside. He was very still for several minutes. Then he flapped his ear and I had to go back to just wishing he would go away and play with Mr. Owl and/or Mr. Snake.
  • Some dumbass that lives around here obviously thinks it’s 1860 are we are in the wild, wild west. They started shooting guns around 10 am. Every now and then you’d hear a big boom like he has a rocket launcher or something. My dogs wouldn’t shut up and I couldn’t put them outside for fear a stray bullet would find it’s way into my yard. I called the cops. They told me that they had already been out and that the people were shooting “in a safe manner.” I felt so much better after I learned that! Gee wilikers, thanks, Barney Fife! I’m sure that the crazy guys who shot up movie houses and gunned down school kids were also operating their military grade weapons in a “safe manner”. Safety only counts for the shooter.. that’s cool.
  • Remember my weedy flower beds? I weeded some yesterday. I googled marijuana leaf to see if I was growing some. Nope. I also googled poison ivy. I am growing that. It’s a good thing that I googled it and didn’t try to smoke the poison ivy. That might have had a really messy outcome.

Hope your Monday goes by swiftly and painlessly. As for me, I’m headed out to trim the bushes and try not to cut off a finger. I’m also going to go to our one local Mexican restaurant for lunch and investigate whether or not they have an Japanese guy wearing a sombrero and cooking fajitas back in the kitchen. I will report back with my findings.


Not dead yet. Just sleeping

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Julio-San, the Japanese Hibachi Cook.

Bourbon on the Rocks

The weekends seem to slow to a crawl here in Blogoworld. I think I will celebrate weekends here from now on with a booze related post. I can’t get any more specific than that because I’m too drunk right now. Hahahaha…

This week I tried out a new product. Rocks. Yep, some kind of rocks that you freeze to put in your bourbon instead of ice to cool “mommy’s apple juice” to the right temperature. I’ve been eyeballing this product for a while because I think I would look really continental with rocks in my drink. All the joggers on my street would stop outside, look at me sitting in my rocker on the porch and exclaim, “ooo lala, zee has ROCKZ in zee drink! Vee have never zeen zuch a ting!” In case you are wondering what accent that is, it is a special accent that only I speak. I have multiple personality disorder and my alter ego is named Helga, Voman of de Vorld, From Everyvere and Novere. Helga sometimes sounds French, German, Russian, Chinese… all at the same time. She is fascinating.

Anyway, back to the cold rocks. I took them out of the freezer and put them in a glass that wasn’t broken. Not easy to find in this establishment. I splashed some nice bourbon over the rocks. It looked pretty awesome as you can see. I looked at my beverage for a few minutes, turning it this way and that, examining all its angles. Then, like the connoisseur that I am not, I sniffed my bourbon with my pinky finger held high. Then I tossed that amber liquid down the ole gullet. It tasted good as usual, but there was a BIG PROBLEM.

That beautifully balanced bourbon was NOT COLD. AT ALL.


larceny     drink

I went and got another glass (okay, plastic cup… whatever) and put some more cold rocks and bourbon in there and let it sit longer than before. I assumed that I had had a problem following the three step instructions. Nope. Still not cold but at that point I stopped really caring about the temperature of the bourbon. Instead of dirtying yet another glass and because I had run out of frozen rocks, I just took a swig from the bottle.

That’s when I figured out that I had wasted $20 on rocks and didn’t give a shit that I don’t seem to have a damn cocktail glass that isn’t broken or chipped. The bottle the bourbon comes in is a beautiful piece of art and I don’t need damn rocks to look like a continental booze swilling socialite. And I don’t like joggers who mock Helga either. I’ll take my booze and my joggers straight up.

To-do List = Screw it

There is a lot of shit I need to do today. I thought it might help me be “organized” and “productive” by making a list.

  1. The hole in my wall that my dog made needs fixed. I’m wondering if I can avoid fixing it right by filling it with unpaid bills and peanut butter.
  2. I found out that those bumpy things that African Americans can do with their hair is called Buntu knots. I want those but as a person of non-color, it is doubtful I can grow AA hair. Wig? Are there wigs like that? Google that for at least four hours.
  3. My loosely defined flower beds need weeded and the bushes trimmed. I hate yard work and there is poison ivy in with the actual ivy. I’m thinking about pouring gasoline on the whole damn thing and starting a new trend called Scorched Earth Gardening. Better call Southern Living and Better Homes and Gardens to book a photo shoot.
  4. Need to put baseboards back on the walls in the basement where I remodeled. I don’t like math or saws and figuring out how to miter the corners. Nevermind… this one is off the list.
  5. My eyebrows need grooming. They are growing all over my face. I saw an infomercial this morning for a home laser system. This sounds both dangerous and interesting. I would use it on the dog first. Rottweilers have eyebrows that I can practice on, and I have two rotties so that is 57 eyebrows. I’ll reiterate, I hate math.
  6. Need to look into changing my name so I’ll know what to do after I rob a bank. I’m thinking of Hugh Jaynus. That name changes my gender too so no one will find me.
  7. I got an email yesterday that my kid had better get on the ball and buy her textbooks for college. The listed books are quite expensive and I’m wondering if my kid can just “share” with some other kid. My kid has an iPhone and she can just take pictures of the pages to read later. It’s more eco-friendly and all that tree hugger bullshit, right?
  8. Laundry needs done. Hubs is wearing my underwear today. I’m not wearing any. I don’t mind going commando but he says his suit pants chaff the free range parts. We can’t have that, now can we?

Hope your to-do list is shorter today. I’m off to look at the shit that needs done and then go to the movies. Hey, at least I thought about doing productive stuff today. It’s a start.


This is the hole my dog created by making the blinds swing into the wall because a vicious jogger was in the street outside.

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My planter with weeds and I think the other picture is marijuana in my flower bed. God, I hope so. I think I’ll leave it alone to see if there might be something to roll up and smoke later.


The next time you see a picture of this dog, he will look like he got drunk at a party and someone creative shaved his eyebrow. There might be burn marks too. Then again, he might eat the laser thing before I get into the room with it.

Stupid Sh*t in my Newspaper

I’m not sure why bloggers use asterisks to camouflage swear words in their headlines but I’m new to the blogosphere so I’ll asterisk my headline like my brothahs and sistahs. There won’t be any more damn asterisks in my fucking post though. Hahaha… potty mouth.

I sat down to have my morning cawfee at the kitchen table. I spread out the local paper to see what the hell was going on in the world. I was amused, disgusted and annoyed at the entire section A, so I’m going to share with you the articles that aroused such intense feelings in me. Speaking of being aroused..


Why in the hell does this guy think EVERYONE wants to see his penis? He takes more pictures of that thing than most people take of their children. I mean it’s like whatever, it’s a penis. Fifty percent of the population has one, so why do you think yours is more photogenic than everyone elses? Did Wiener just never get over that whole I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours thing? Actually, he doesn’t really seem to care about seeing your lady bits, just that you see his one eyed zipper worm. That makes him a perv in my book. Why would people even consider him for any public office? You elect his sorry ass and be prepared for him to start putting ink on his balls and slapping them on the paper as his signature. What a creep. His dumb ass wife needs to be slapped too. What’s up with that, lady? You should have gone all Lorena Bobbit on him a long time ago. You gotta raise your man up right (boner pun, hahaha)

The next thing in the paper that caught my eye also has a penis. Everybody say awwww together now.


A note to my friends Kate and Wills… Uncle Harry is going to be a FUN uncle. Make sure that Uncle Harry is a fun SUPERVISED uncle in the future. No trips to Vegas or Thailand or else we will be seeing Baby Cambridge’s wanker all over the news too.

Our Dicks in the News kept getting bigger and bigger. Next up; religious right wing nutters and science.


This looks tantalizing, doesn’t it? Upon further reading this was by far the funniest article in the newspaper. The comic strip was a bore compared to this. The state wants to update k-12 science standards to help get them in line by working with 25 other states to develop common areas of study. Sounds reasonable, right? No no no no…. the religious nutters came out in force to a committee hearing claiming the new proposed standards are “atheistic and fascist”. First of all, these bible thumpers don’t know the definition of fascist or socialist or any of those science-y words. These dummies just scream words that the crackhead Rush Limpboner told them are bad without knowing what in the hell they are talking about. Here is my favorite quote from the article:


Huh? Here you are at an open hearing on public school curriculum and you’re talking about socialism and throwing in genocide and murder? Are you on crack, lady?


Next, our intrepid friend, Matt Singleton, a Baptist preacher, dove deep into the well of evolution teachings and came up with drug abuse, suicide and other social afflictions (read gay right there cuz I’m certain that’s where he was going with it). Holy Mother of T-Rex.


The last and greatest Dickhead of the Day is the conservative and perpetually wrong columnist, Cal Thomas. Just seeing his smarmy face in my paper pisses me off. I get back at him by cutting out his articles and using them to wipe my ass with. Today, he decided to give our black president a what-for about racism, which ole whitey Cal has personally NEVER experienced. He suggests that the president has never experienced racism either and that even old black ladies are sick of young black men wearing hoodies and acting rude. By his anecdotal reasoning, all young black men that act like idiots and have saggy pants are black trash because he read some stupid fairy tale. How the hell does he get rich by spouting this garage? I spout garbage every damn day and I’m not rich…

I guess all my problems are because I don’t have a penis and I’m not crazy. That’s ok, I’ll take being poor, socialist with a vagina over crazy any day.

Zombie Apocalypse Skills

Why are zombies always in such bad shape? I get that they are the undead and all, but geez.. you’d think that at least one or two of them might have had a manicure at some point before falling undead. Can there be gay zombies? Surely someone died with pointy shoes and a floral shirt. All the zombies in movies and tv look like they died human as hobos and then started zombie lives as dirty bums with a heroin problem. Being half eaten is one thing but being dirty and half eaten is another.


Seriously… these undead have no fashion style before or after becoming flesh eaters.

I’m pretty worried about a zombie apocalypse. Not for myself, but for my kids. My kids have zero survivablity skills in case of an apocalypse, zombie or otherwise. They can’t start a fire without matches, hunt down game or do anything useful with a knife. They can do laundry. With a washing machine plugged into a wall. That’s about it. Maybe boil water too. They can save your ass if you are drowning in a pool but I don’t think that’s a needed skill set during an apocalypse. On the other hand, I don’t think zombies swim so being the beasts they are in the water maybe they can swim away from zombie armies. Good thing I spent all my  money on swim team dues after all. Maybe the world will end up as some kind of bizarre combo of Waterworld and Zombie Land.


Okay, wtf is this?! Zombies are the enemy and this undead bitch is gonna eat your face. Really.

My survival skills are sarcasm and being fat. Being fat means that I can live off my own energy resources for a long time without eating food. The rest of my miserable post zombie apocalypse life would be spent finally losing some damn weight and shouting rude things at the undead. “Hey you undead som-bitch! Why did God make zombies stink? So blind people could hate em too!” I’m so hilarious.

So what skill do you have that would make a post zombie apocalypse colony want to take you in and spend resources on you? I’m not talking about the obvious shooting or ability to make bullets skills… I’m talking about dark house skills like the ability to hot wire a car or whip up penicillin without the benefit of a lab. I seriously want to know. It never hurts to have an anti zombie army ready to go.

A Letter to Kate

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Dear Kate:

Congratulations on your almost here baby! I know that you are probably as sick of this media circus as the rest of us. You’re lying there on your bed of pain grunting a watermelon out of your royal lady bits and we all sit here breathlessly awaiting news of each grunt. I don’t know how the high-born birth their babies but most of us commoners push them out with a healthy amount of swearing and sometimes the other parental unit gets blamed for the whole thing during labor. Now that’s what I’d like some footage of – you sweaty and writhing around and yelling “bloody hell, Wills! Count to 10 one more time and I’ll bury my bloody foot in your arse!” Now that would be news we could use.

All the media hoopla aside, I have some parenting advice for you. You see, I have managed to raise my kids to the ripe old age of 18 without them once calling me from jail, getting preggers, and without them using any drugs or alcohol (as for me, I use those with alarming frequency), so I am now an Expert in Parenting. I’m much better than those insipid What to Expect books or Dr. Sears. Dr. Sears is a total whack job in my opinion.

Your first order of business once the placenta hits the metal tin is to name his or her little majesty. Get ready for battle, cuz Ole Elizabeth ain’t on board to let you or Wills name that kid. At least you will avoid stupid celebrity names unless you nickname the little guy/gal. I’d use a nickname just to piss off grandma. I’d call the baby Number Three, or maybe Replacement just to get under her skin. I’d also teach the kid to call her something unique instead of grandma or granny. I think you should have him/her call her Liz or maybe Betts. Hilarious.

I won’t cover the sleeping through the night part because you are a smart little thing and will have a nanny or ten to take care of that. Lucky you. If you are going to breastfeed, that’s gonna be your areola of concern (hahaha). Learn to walk around naked from the waist up. It’s easier that way. Just have Wills go out and buy some black out curtains from Bed Bath and Beyond and put those up. You won’t get any objections from him for walking around half naked either. Just be careful when your monster-in-law comes for a visit. She will most likely demand that you put on a shirt. Tell her to bugger off. MIL’s seem to think they are in charge when you have a baby so don’t let her push you around now or your life will be miserable.

Are you thinking plastic or cloth for the royal bum? Since you don’t do laundry personally, I’d go for cloth. It’s better for the economy since you will have to hire about ten people to wash the royal bacon strips out of those diapers. I’ll bet that kid will never have diaper rash in any case. Baby makes a PEEP and nanny will change that kid so fast, baby won’t even know if he tinkled or pooped.

I have lots of other advice for you but I’m guessing you are needing a nap by now.  Finish getting that baby out and then chase everybody but Wills out. Tell Wills he owes you BIG TIME and that he’d better have some jewels to pull out of his neat three piece suit.

I’ll write again soon once baby starts doing more than eating, pooping and sleeping. In the meantime, good luck to you and Wills. Raising kids is hard work. You have my cell number, so give me a call if you need some advice because I’ll give it to you straight up when no one else will.



How to Do a Line

Why does every damn trip to the store result in me in a check out line that is ten people deep? Why is the particular line that I’m in, no matter if there are 67 check outs to choose from, have the slowest people on God’s green earth? It’s a talent that I have that I could really live without.


Where the hell do all these people come from? Go home!!!

I needed to go pick up a clip on lamp for Twin B’s bed. I bought her one last week but Twin A decided that it was hers and once she owns something, may God have mercy on your soul if you think you’re getting it back. Small but fierce, that one.


The object of my desire.

I had a coupon and $10 worth of Kohl’s cash so off I went. They only had a few left so I didn’t end up being pissed off that they were out. That’s a good thing for my fellow shoppers because I tend to thrown myself down and into a fit most two year olds would envy when something on sale is sold out. I mean, I just can’t deal with that at all. For shits sake, I hauled myself into the car and down the road to your dumb store and you don’t even have the courtesy to have the item I want? How dare you….

Got the lamp and managed to not get anything else to buy. Not even underwear although I gazed longingly at that department as I walked by on the way to check out. As usual, they only had two check outs open and eighty million people in line. I eyeballed both lines to see which one was going to be the bigger pain in my ass that day. Glory be, I pick the slowest line every damn time. I always get behind the chick who has a buggy and/or armloads of crap, and then has a question, a pimple to discuss, or knows the check out lady’s baby mama. Sometimes it’s just a sad old lady who still writes checks in her wobbly handwriting and hasn’t talked to a real person in a month. I’m a bitch and I’m in a hurry, but I don’t need bad karma so I keep my mouth shut about slow old ladies in the check out.

I have a system that I use when the lines are long and all else fails and I need to get out quick. I try hard to get people to give up their stuff they want to buy to get the line moving. I’ll start up a little convo, like “hey, I bought that very same shirt a week ago and I washed it once and it fell apart.” BAM… good bye shirt. “Wasn’t there a recall last week on those chairs? Something about how they cut off kids fingers?” BAM… another one bites the dust. I’m quite good at that really. They should really make a documentary about how much shit I convince people NOT to buy.

However, today I wasn’t in the mood for my little game. There was fro-yo waiting for me at the end of this shopping excursion. After wasting five minutes in line and not even MOVING, I looked over and saw the lady working at the jewelry counter. Actually she wasn’t working, she was just moving shit around on the display. I sent Twin B over to see if she could check us out. The sigh this woman gave at this request echoed across the room. Tough shit, lady. Your job does suck.

Like the BOSS that I AM, I was outta there in a minute after that short cut. I glanced back at the line I was formally in and saw the glares from people still in line. Sucks to be you… I’m off to get some fro-yo, Yo!!!


Fatty fatty two by four. Me though, not this bag o’ bones kid.