Is it weird that I want a mounted jackalope head?

It's not animal cruelty if an animal dies naturally BEFORE you whack his head off and mount it on a plaque.  Am I right? And by naturally, I mean, accidentally shot by a stray bullet meant for a wild boar or some other nasty animal.  Because, I can't imagine ANYONE purposely killing any of these little fellas:

The center ones were murdered whilst humping, I think.

That's what one of the walls looks like at our neighborhood Ace Hardware store.  I immediately fell in love!  I wanna hang one up in the Winnie... and one in my office... and one over the fireplace.  Hubber wouldn't buy me one though.  He's an a-hole when it comes to adopting new furry things.

Me:  It's not like I want the ones posing for a rape scene!

Hubber: Don't you have enough pets?

Me: Yeah, but THESE pets don't pee and shit all over the place... AND they don't require feeding!

Hubber: AND, they don't make any noise...

Me: See? You get it!  Now buy me three!

Hubber: Hell no, they're too creepy.  What the hell IS a jackalope, anyway?  Have YOU ever seen one?

Me: I'm seeing a shitload of 'em right now.  And, they're not creepy! The're cute... and oh, so soft!  Ahhhh.... Here, pet 'em!

I believe that's when he walked off and left me there, all dreamy-eyed, petting each jackalope an equal amount of strokes so as not to make the others jealous.

One of these little guys WILL be mine!

Shaving incidents and other shit that happens when you're poor

So... you know now that I'm being frugal and all, I've had to cut back on some things.  Things like regular shopping trips for shoes/handbags/panties, uppidy hair stylists, massages, professional pedicures, and..... waxing.  And by waxing, I am referring to the waxing of unsightly body hairs. The kind of hairs that have been known to cause rug burn... the kind of hairs that will poke your husband's eye out in the middle of the night.

Yes, now that I'm a poor, starving writer... I'm hairier than I used to be.  So, once a week (or so) I perform the world's longest shaving ritual.  First the pits... then the legs... then the nether regions.  I've survived mostly unscathed for over a year now - until today.  Today I was destined for pain and suffering.... and lots of blood. 

I shaved a quarter of my left pinky nail off accidently.  Don't ask me how that shit happened.  IT JUST DID, mofos.  I need two hands when I'm grooming down there... and that darned pinky just kinda got in the way.

I think I lost two pints of blood. And, some of my sanity.

I'm convinced that some other snarky bitch had it in for me and made a voodoo doll outta my hair and boogers with every intention of shaving off my entire hoo-ha from the inside out!  But, I am more powerful than that bitch.  I sensed that evil shit coming my way and I thwarted it with my left pinky!  Cheap-ass voodoo is no match for my pinky.  No, sir.

Although, now I'm afraid that my hoo-ha will be a little gun shy about having a razor get too close.  I might have to start a waxing fund on my blog.  Would YOU contribute?

proof that no matter how much pain I'm in,
Hubber can still find a way to be a perv

Sex Pornstar Coupon

According to my blog stats, searches on google for "sex pornstar coupon" directed people to my blog a total of 5 times last month. Not only do I not provide pornstar sex, if I did, I wouldn't be giving out coupons for that shit! I would charge a premium!  I wonder how sad these pervs were when they landed on my bullshitty blog full of parental bitching and moaning and starving artist rants?  Oh, well... fuck 'em.  If they don't like it, they can keep moving.

Also, WTF is a sex pornstar coupon? 

If I were ever to attempt to make money in the sex industry, I've already decided that I'd take a clue from Irena Palm.  Except, I'll be the pimp.  I'd drill a hole in my garage door and let pervs stick their peckers in for a lubed-up handjob performed by senior citizens looking to supplement their social security income.  I'd disguise them as Betty White for that "star" quality.

How much would YOU pay to stick your pecker in a hole for a handjob from Betty White?!

Other interesting google searches that led folks to my blog last month:

• black sucking bitches
• skittles not shittles
• spring break 2012 asses
• zombie princesses
• kids are assholes
• mommy juice
• go rving

Foul-Mouthed Bitches

We've been helping my sister and brother-in-law move all weekend.  About an hour into Day 2, the BIL stops me mid-sentence to inform me that using the words "bitch" and "fuck" as often as I do is unnecessary and completely inappropriate.  That a-hole has some nerve, y'all.  There I was, sweating my ass off helping him move his shit and he feels the need to ask me to filter what comes out of my mouth?!

Well, I'll show him! 

I listened carefully to every word that he and my lovely (and seemingly always appropriate) sister spewed out all fucking day....  and lo' and behold, it was chock full of inappropriate shit.  So, I took notes and I'm going to share THEIR inappropriateness here with the entire world.  Enjoy.

Shit that came out of Sis's mouth:

• I would if I could, but I just can't push it out.
• He likes to stick hard things in his mouth.
• What is penis elbow?
• Just shake it till it comes out.
• Suck on this.
• I think he was black in another life.

Shit BIL said:

• Just the tip, I promise.
• Quit yanking on it!
• My belly is full of Dave.
• Someone smells like ass.  Oh, wait... that's me.
• My elbow is so sore.
• Everyone's sucking on something but me.
• He LOOKS like he owns a mini-van.

My peeps have got some nasty-ass potty mouths, don't they?!  And they wonder why the hell I'm full of "bitches" and "fucks."  It's THEIR fault!

I'm going to the grave kicking and screaming

Today is my birthday and unlike SOME of my friends (mainly THIS one), I'm loving every minute of it.  As most of you know, I've been celebrating all month... because you only live once, bitches! Sure, I'm one more year closer to death, my hair is graying, my skin is aging and my bank account is dwindling... but I'M ALIVE and I have access to fruity, alcoholic beverages, beef jerky and air conditioning.  What more could a girl ask for?!

Honestly, it's the only time I can make my peeps feel guilty enough to do shit for me:  "Hand me the remote, it's my birthday month!".... "Get me a glass of water, it's my birthday week!".... "Rub my feet, it's my birthday eve, eve!"... "Scratch my back, it's my birthday eve!"  "Throw some coconut ice cubes in my rum, it's my birthday!"

That shit works like a charm for me all month.  The rest of the year, they spend most of the time avoiding me, so I have to milk it for all it's worth.

As I type, my girls are cleaning my kitchen and baking their momma a cake.  Hubber is tidying up the living room and ordering the children around (which is equivalent to porn in my book).  I'm sipping on a beverage at my desk, listening to the Beastie Boys and rubbing my feet on my dog's back.  It's like God is actually smiling down on me and saying, "sure you're a bitch, but I still like you."

While I celebrate the anniversary of the day I was born, I can't help but thank my lucky stars that I survived another year without killing myself or someone else (and that shit ain't easy to do when you're me).  I'm happy, I'm healthy and I have the best group of family and friends anyone could ever hope for.  I'm beginning to think they love me, snark and all.

Ok, time for cake... 

Buses, Booze and Fruit Roll-Ups

The youngest spawn thinks that all the cool kids ride the bus.  But, to torture her, I forbade it.  I insisted that I drop her off every morning... waiting in the car line for 10-15 excrutiating minutes behind idiot parents that can't read/see/hear, just so that I can watch her walk into the building.  It gave me the assurance that she actually made it to school and that she didn't skip out to drink Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill and smoke Camel cigarettes behind the school with all the other derelicts. But it wasn't until a few days ago that I realized that the piece of mind I get from dropping her off myself isn't worth the time and aggravation it costs me to deal with the dreaded CAR LINE.  Also, I got banned from the car line for shooting the bird at the crossing guard.  Twice.  

Me: Hey, baby... wouldn't it be fun to ride the bus in the mornings?

Spawn:  Really?!  Yes!!  I can sneak in some fruit roll-up so me and Tyler can eat them together BEFORE the teacher takes them away from us!

Me: You can eat on the bus?

Spawn: No.  I mean, yes.

Me: Whatever... just don't get in trouble!

So, she's been catching the bus every morning this week and so far she hasn't gotten in trouble for sneaking contraband onto school property.  How much harm can fruit roll-ups cause, really?

There's Nothing Like Pap-Smears and Hot, Mexican Soup

(Forewarning: Do not read this post if you are easily offended by medical procedures or the word vagina)

What goes great with hot, mexican soup, you ask?  If you're me (and I know you wish you were), the answer is a pap-smear.  After confessing to my sister that I hadn't had my annual "Well Woman" exam since my tubal ligation 5 years ago, I've been getting nagged to fucking death about going to the damn doctor.  I just haven't felt the need.  What with no need for birth control and no "flare-ups" in the nether regions, I just figured: if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Sis: it's called PREVENTATIVE treatment. You could be walking around all ignorant with cervical cancer... or breast cancer... or a million other different kids of cancers and not even know it!

Me: pffffft... you're just jealous because you still need to worry about birth control.

Sis: I don't need to worry, I AM pregnant.

Me: No wonder you need a vagina swab.

Sis: C'mon, I'll buy you lunch.

Me: Free lunch? I'm in!

Because seriously, y'all... I don't turn down a free meal.  Poor folks gotta take handouts when they can get 'em.  So, I offered my body over to science for 30 minutes in exchange for Mexico City Style Chicken and Rice Soup from Pappasitos.  They sprinkle crack in that shit.  And the little leaves floating on top?  Those aren't cilantro... they're weed.  I know this because after eating a bowl of this shit, I'm delirious with the need for a nap.  And chocolate. 

Who the hell drove me home?!