I can't make this shit up, y'all....

For the second time in my entire history of motherhood, I attended a Thanksgiving Feast with my child.  The first time, was with the oldest spawn when she was in 3rd grade.  I was in the lunch line with her when some loud-mouthed jackass kid asks my her, "Hey, is THAT your mom?  She's fat!"  In my mind I reached over there and kicked him in his teeny tiny nutsack.  In reality, I shot him the bird and he turned right around and minded his own business.  After that most joyous day, I realized the older kids got, the assholier they got, too.  So, I figured that would probably be the first and last time I'd go and have lunch with my kid.

Fast-forward 6 years and my youngest spawn is in kindergarten.  At this age, kids are still kinda cute so I figured I'd probably be safe against verbal attacks.  Also, my youngest would proably kick someone's ass if they talked smack about me to her face.  So, when I was invited to have a Thanksgiving lunch with her, I said, "sure, let's try this shit again!"

Everything was fine.  Great, as a matter-of-fact.  I chit-chatted in the lunch line with some parents.  I sashayed my fat ass around like the confident heifer that I am.  It was all cool.

That is, until we sat down at our assigned spot at the lunch table.  Directly across from us was another kid and her mother - a police officer in full fucking uniform.

Here's where shit went downhill fast.

Spawn: What does that badge say on your arm?

Cop Lady:  It says, "police officer."

Spawn:  YOU'RE a policeman?!

Cop Lady: Yep.

Spawn: Do you have a gun?

Cop Lady: Yeah... it's right here, see? (tapping her hip holster)

Spawn: Cool!  My mom doesn't have a gun.

Cop Lady: Really?

Spawn: Nope.  But, my dad does.

Cop Lady: Really?

Spawn:  Yeah.  He's a boy.  He likes to shoot stuff. Especially bad guys and SQUIRRELS!

Cop Lady: He does, huh?  (glancing at me)

Spawn: Yeah.  He hates them because they drop a lot of acorns in our pool. Also, they make a mess by the back door.

Cop Lady: Hmmm. (staring a hole in my head)

Me: Hey, don't look at me... I don't even know the guy.

So, there goes our family's reputation with this group of parents.  By the time my tiny spawn gets to 3rd grade, this story will be exaggerated to astronomical proportions.  I'm sure that by then, Hubber will be a convicted felon who kills cute, tiny, doe-eyed puppies and eats their hearts raw. 

The funny thing is... he's never even actually hit a squirrel with his bb-gun. :)

Sheesh.

Sex Toys Are Your Friends (and mine)

All Stand and APPLAUD, Damnit!

It's a proud moment in Snarky Heifer-ville, y'all.  Momma got her first advertiser!  That's right!  Someone is actually PAYING money for a slot on my website! CHA-CHING!  I didn't even have to turn a trick; which makes Hubber a happy camper.

Nevermind that my advertiser sells adult toys.  They're still legit (because the check didn't bounce)... and cool as shit in my book. At first, I was tempted to trade them some ad space for loot.  But then I realized that my cupboard is bare and my peeps need milk and eggs before Hubber needs a blow up doll.  So, I opted for the cash.  Smart, huh?

Another good thing about my newly acquired [best] friends is that I've learned a lot more than I ever thought possible about the adult toy businesses.  There are contraptions for everything, y'all.  Turns out, I don't know shit about kinky sex.

For example, what do you think THIS is?:

No, it is not an attachment for your kitchen blender.

It is a vaginal/anal bi-polar ElectraProbe.  And, if that isn't snazzy enough for you... you POWER it up with one of these things:

I'm dead serious about this shit.  Kinda scary, if you ask me.  Pretty sure I don't want anything inside my hoo-ha that uses electro-thingamajigs in order to operate.  With my luck, my goodies would turn toxic and Hubber's dingaling would fall off in two months. Eeek!

But, wait!  Don't let that stop you from visiting my advertiser's lovely store!  They sell a bunch of normal shit, too.  I promise!  Go check them out: www.PerpetualPerv.com