Saturday, October 31, 2009

Have A "Whore-iffic" Halloween...

Aw shit! They "Whore-ifed" Minnie Mouse. Now she's a Skank!

This awesome lady came into the store where I work the other day. We (my co-workers and I) were all standing around the counter chit-chatting, and we started talking to this "awesome lady" about Halloween.

US: "What crazy/sexy/cool costume are you going to rock this Halloween pray-tell?"

AWESOME LADY: "I don't know. I am a 3rd grade school teacher, and every costume out there is just so slutty. There's the prostitute nun, the prostitute school girl, the prostitute bumble bee. I just don't think 3rd graders are ready for that shit."

ME: "Yup, unless you want to be a whore for're pretty much screwed."

Okay, maybe the conversation didn't quite go like that...but that was pretty much the gist. When the hell did Halloween go from dressing up in a scary and spooky monster mask to seeing who can wear the least amount of clothes and barely covering the "important parts"? Oh wait...maybe when I turned about 16 and stopped enjoying Halloween.

I Googled some of these masterpieces of slutdom and just had to share...
"Trick or treat" my should be more like "tit or twat". Either way...someone's gettin' candy. (damn my filthy mouth)

Here's my favorites.

"The Prostitute Nun"

Is nothing sacred? Ever hear of the Thorn Birds?

"The Prostitute Nurse"

She's gonna have to cure her own cold with her ass cheeks hangin' out like that.

"The Prostitute Girl Scout"
She's not selling cookies.

Yeah, this is the Prostitute "Prostitute"
It's considerably realistic...she looks pretty wrecked.

There was just too many "prostitute (insert admirable profession/cute animal/or Disney character here) costumes to post here. I mean really...think of any sort of worker in any profession...use your imagination (got it in your head?) Ok, now picture them with their boobs hanging out, knee high boots, and fishnets....costume done...spooky right? Deserves candy right?

Who did you picture?
Holly shit you sickos...she's a dead wrinkly old lady! You wanted to picture Mother Teresa with her boobs hanging out...and fishnets?
Didn't work did it?
Mother Teresa is a person...not a could've tried prostitute "missionary" or prostitute "saint"....that woulda worked. I bet there's a costume for it....white toga thingy about crotch high??? Oh and don't forget the halo....

I'm quite sure my husband would love it if I dressed up like....
"Little HO Peep"

BUT....I was thinking something a little more....I don't know....Amish???

Yeah! Amish women rock it hard core. Check out the bonnet! I seriously could use a bonnet in my everyday wardrobe. It's dainty. The web site says that this is a Pilgrim/Puritan costume....but you and I both know it's Amish. I'll carry a patchwork quilt or something...that'll add to the realism. (there I go again with my Amish sterotypes)
Shit....they don't carry my size....guess I'll just go as the crazy cat lady in her bathrobe again this year. It's pretty scary...just ask the neighbors...they see me in it everyday.

Happy Howl-a-ween !!!

Send all your extra Butterfingers and Mr. Goodbars over to Duel Living c/o my tummy!

That's all for now,

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Required Watching = SUPERNANNY

As that ticking time bomb of my "biological clock" ticks louder and louder in my ears....I am seriously pondering if I'm up for becoming a mother.

See, I was raised by my father...a no nonsense kinda guy who gave me two choices...

1. His Way


2. Too F*uckin' Bad

Needless to say, I always chose "His Way", and in the event I chose anything else...I rarely did it again. Yo Dad...BRAVO! I am right now, at this very moment, applauding you. My teenage years were a little turbulent with you, but LOOK AT ME NOW!!! Perfection.

I work in a retail furniture store, and let me just say to all of the parents out there that may be reading this...WTF are you doing to your children? Yes, I say doing TO your children...because by giving them all of these "options" at 2,3,4,5 years old...they are bound to get it a little f*cked up.

Parents come into my store all the time and their children run rampant...out of control...driving me nuts. I am known as being the store hard ass...I don't care what the parents think. You better believe I tell their children NO RUNNING! NO JUGGLING the stupid shell ball thingys that serve no purpose but to tempt children to juggle them. NO SCREAMING! And parents...that means you too. If your kid is climbing on the seat of a 12" realistic bicycle (meant to sit on a shelf for some ridiculous purpose) get off your lazy ass and tell them NO! Don't scream at them across the store to "Please stop Little Becky/Jimmy/Frodo/Optimus Prime. Doesn't work does it? Nope.

I love the quote...

"This is not a's a dictatorship"

True dat!

I believe in giving children choices that they are capable of making..."do you want to use the green crayon or the blue one?" "What book would you like to read at bedtime tonight?" I don't however, believe children learn from being given so many options. There is a point where there is no possibility of making sensible choices. "What do you want for dinner tonight Apple/Billy/Terminator/Brutus?" And when you say no to his request for Jolly Ranchers and milk shakes...he throws a fit. Well??? You asked him what he wanted for dinner Dumb Ass. He is just a 4 year old. My advice...put the chicken nuggets in front of him on his little Thomas the Tank Engine plate and tell him to enjoy! If he doesn't give him 2 options...

1. Eat It


2. Too F*ckin' Bad...go hungry.

You may ask why I think I know it all? You may think...sure...she doesn't have a kid how can she stand up on that soap box and preach to the parental choir? I'll tell you why. I was a nanny for a lotta years. I learned a lot about disciplining 3 toddlers without the having the option of corporal punishment (which sometimes sucked). I have also been childless for these last 30 years, looking in from the outside and watching all of these f*ck up parents reading books like "Never Say No To Your Child" and laughing cuz' they've raised a completely rude, discontented, and lost little kid. Of course you should say no to your kids. By all means, they have to learn to make their own decisions, but that comes in time...not in infancy. They don't learn morals, values, and respect from being able to pick out their dinner menu, or running in a furniture store.

Okay, I have stepped down off my soap box now. Thanks for listening to medium sized rant. My worst fear in life is to choose to become a mother and then to do the job badly. It is a juggling act...with kids...not little shell ball thingys...and I'm scared.

And don't get me started on....

1. Parents who allow their children to sleep with them until they are 9.
2. Children who are still suckling from their mother's teat at 5. (If it were necessary the rest of the animal kingdom would be doing it. Do you see 5 year old elephants still sucking their mother's elephant sized breast? Nope...she would have stomped that little elephant ass and said go get yourself a peanut or some shit like that.)
3. Rich parents who buy their children's love/adoration/place in college, society, and life. (MTV spawned the series My Super Sweet 16 to showcase bratty spoiled teenagers and instead created a cult of teenagers aspiring to have the latest Jay-Z knock off at their parties...and now their parents are expected to shell out.)
You know what I got on my 16Th birthday? I got the chance to drive my Dad's car to get Chinese food less than a mile away from my front door. And you know what? I grinned ear to ear the whole way!!!!

That's all for now,

P.S. I'm sure someone is going to let me have it...I'm ready...and I'll still love you.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Perhaps I Might Borrow Your Grey Poupon?


I love that word. Perhaps. It's a possibility. It's an awakening. It's a bite of fate. Perhaps. Perhaps I will do something memorable today...make a friend, learn a word, eat something other than chicken. Perhaps, I will get dressed today...perhaps I won't. It's all in the maybe that is so intriguing.

A twist, a turn, an unexpected blink and that perhaps is reality. Poof. Done.

Endless choices are awaiting when preceded by perhaps...and nothing is off limits. I guess that is what makes it so damn tasty.

Perhaps, today I will meet a person who can change my mind. Perhaps I will fulfill a dream. Perhaps I will rip a hole in the ass of my favorite pants at work today...nope wait. I did that already....yesterday. That sentence should have read: Obviously I will rip a hole in the ass of my favorite pants at work. There's always a possibility of holes ripping and embarrassing scenarios when we're talking about me here. Perhaps I will shave my legs or hem my new pants...probably not...but perhaps. Conceivably I may laugh out loud or dance in front of the mirror...perhaps...I haven't decided yet...but the option is there. It's liberating isn't it?

Perhaps, you dear friends, will read this and think I'm nuts...perhaps you will may or may not have already decided that. Perhaps is a rolling stone that only rests in decision. What choices will I make today?

Perhaps I will go eat some Sabra Hummus now...yes...choice longer perhaps.

That's all for now,

P.S. Maybe the real reason I love the word perhaps, is because it sounds like PURRHATS and who doesn't love a kitty with a cap? I'm a fan....they're just so jaunty!

Friday, October 16, 2009

Cuz' Mickey Loves Ya...

"We write to taste life twice,
once in the moment,
and in retrospection."
-Anais Nin

I thought I would give a little "update" on a few of my previous postings. Revisit...if you will. Taste them if once wasn't enough. toilet is flushing clear. I am officially back from the tacky. I have to say...thank God for the knock off 2000 Flushes was really more like 500. In this economy, I never thought I would actually be thankful for crappy products. Pun intended.

I think it may be time to retire my good ol' faux "Snuggie". I spilled hot chocolate on it...and it puts the "ug" in ugly...and takes the "snug" outta "Snuggie. I'm thinking I will invest in one of those new fashion the one below...because I am feeling like I want to bring out my wild side. I think the zebra one will do that. It's my kinda "lingerie". Bren better watch out! I'm getting frisky with my loungewear.

I finally got a weekend off with Brendan. I only get one a month....which is tough. What did we do all day on a rainy Saturday? We watched Rocky I - V. "AAAADDDRRIIAAANNN". It was quite the marathon. Ofcourse I had to hear MANY bad Rocky impressions and watch Brendan "air box" with many invisible opponents.

Things I learned that rainy Saturday?

1.Brendan can't do a very good Rocky impression.
2.Brendan can't do a very good Russian impression.
3.Rocky II-V sucked.
4.Brigitte Neilson used to be quite hot.
5.I never want to hear "Eye Of The Tiger" again.
6.I never want to hear "Da Da Dant...Da Da Daaaant" again.
7.I had a really good day watching Rocky I-V with Bren. Yup, I said it. It was fun.
8.They had to put clothes on Stallone for the Rocky V poster...and a hat...he was getting man boobs.

Well...that's the update....maybe just a few more little things.... I am not getting a Brazilian wax now or ever. The cats haven't really been bringing any dead things home lately. Our heat isn't working upstairs. Our refrigerator sprung a leak and drowned the kitchen floor. Don't worry...I didn't know refrigerators leaked either. Gus stopped peeing in the plants but decided bowls of leaking refrigerator water were better. My bangs are getting longer by the day and ever more so unattractive. My beautiful little niece is playing tackle football. GO JJ! And I checked the tv guide for the next couple weeks...Lethal Weapon, Braveheart, and Die Hard were miraculously left off the line I'm safe through October. Life is good in the Yeager house.

That's all for now,

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

What A Girl Wants...

I used to break the erasers off of pencils and put them in my training bra. See...I thought having pointy nips meant I was a "woman". That's all I wanted to be when I was a little 'un. I thought of all of the coolest things that all of the prettiest and coolest women I knew had...and I wanted them too. Like Farrah Fawcetts pointy nips...among other things.

My step-sister (before she was my step-sister) had a mouth full of the most beautiful metal. Her teeth gleamed when she smiled. She was soooo cool! She had the best dolls...the best "office supplies" to play "office" with...she wore high heels in high school...and she feathered her hair! I wanted to be her. She was a woman in my eyes.

So I stuck a barrette between my teeth and my lip...and smiled. I told everybody on the kindergarten playground that I...had indeed...received the awesome opportunity to "get braces". Slight problem...Gina Catalano (that uppity bitch) blabbed to the entire class that my "braces" were really just a plain ol' barrette. I was a fraud...a playground non-braces wearing, metallic tasting mouth fraud. Thanks Gina.

I wanted long fingernails too. I though that was the epitome of a claws. They were graceful and shiny, and great for pointing at stuff. I was a kid. My parents wouldn't let me get fake I tried everything. Bugles Snacks...pointy, perfectly conical for the "all around" fingernail look...and they were tasty too. I tried more barrettes...the snappy kind that you bent to close. Those were a little painful in the beginning...but after my fingers went was great! I didn't try and convince anyone but myself that they were real...Gina kinda ruined my mojo. I even saved my allowance for Lee Press On Nails! For the 15 minutes they stayed was oh so blissful...and womanly...and red.

Yes...I did it all. I wore my "blankie" on my head so I could have hair as long as Crystal Gayle. (a big big dream of mine...HUGE). I bought fake glasses at Claire's Boutique (I did get away with passing those off for real for a few days...Gina moved away). I dreamt of beautiful gowns and satiny high heals that click clacked on the floor when I walked. All of these things were cool to me. All of these things meant being grown up. I wanted a pink car with a shifter. That was it. That was all. That's what a girl wants.
Fast forward. I suppose I can now say that I am a woman...though I still feel like I'm aching to find out what makes me so. I laugh at all of those things that I did to be be be different.

Now that I need braces (at 30) I realize how much they suck and they don't make anyone a woman cuz' boys wear em' too. Long fingernails are for suckers...stuff gets stuck under them and you can't get a really good pick going without causing a nose bleed. I wear glasses now. Yeah...lucky me! That's exactly what I wanted and now I hate them. I still have flat boobs with perpetually pointy nipples. Now I know that this is way too much information...but it just goes to show...what a girl wants....loses a lot in the translation. I don't wear dresses...ever! Same goes for heels...whether they go clickty clack or not...they are uncomfortable and they are dumb. I hate the color pink and especially hate pink cars. I have a standard car with a "shifter"'s a pain in the arse. I live in in bumper to bumper traffic...this isn't womanly...this is the cause of road rage.

What have I learned from this little diatribe? I had a really f*cked up vision of womanhood. Everything...all of it...that I exactly opposite of who I am now. I just blew my own mind here! This is like therapy kinda shit. What was I thinking? And why didn't I listen to everyone that told me...I would hate braces, glasses were nerdy, fingernails were stupid, heels were painful, and none of it would make me grow up?

When I have children...I hope I have boys. They don't put stuff like barrettes or Bugles on their penises do they?

That's all for now,

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Because Brass They Are...

My life seems crazy lately...not hectic crazy...but I may be going off the "deep end" crazy. I had a dream the other night that I quit my job to fulfill my life's calling. What did my life call me to do in my dream? Bikini waxing. Yup...vaginas of Boston need me. In my dream.

I woke up from a nap late this afternoon to Brendan bursting into the bedroom, bringing blaring light and harsh footsteps. What did he say to me? Not, "it's time to get up my Love." Not, "rise and shine." No...seriously...he said this...

"Como te los llamos." Which very loosely translated in some sort of Spanish means "What are your names?"


"My collar stays are brass." WTF? I asked him if I was awake? I couldn't wrap my head around what would possess my husband to NEED to tell me this...

I honestly thought I was still dreaming...but no...this was reality. My skewed reality. The one where my husband has a weird affinity for saying Spanish words in weird orders that mean absolutely nothing! My reality...the one where my husband fingers these little flat thingys that keep his shirt collars flat...and wakes me up from a perfectly good nap by informing me that they are brass...because...they are...brass...duh?

I have a husband that now has a penchant for house plants. We have books on plants people! He dusts each leaf lovingly with clean dish cloths people! This isn't the Brendan I married. I am in a weird grown up version of reality. So these new house plants...Bren's darlings...have become the peeing ground for one of our beloved "sons" Gus..."the orange one". Bren has now put rocks, aluminum foil, willow branches, AND anti-cat citrus spray in and/or around the potted what does my industrious little man in fur pajamas do? He backs up to the plant...and pees backwards, arching it into the plant! Aluminum foil...nope. Rocks...nope. Willow branches....pah. In what reality does a cat pee backwards? Oh wait...that's's mine.

By the way...I got a brand spanking new windshield on my car today. For free. Yes free. In the great state of can get two replacements a year. Score....but oh wait...there is a brand new windshield on my car with a brand new oily, greasy, black hand print (that looks like it belongs to the big rock man in that movie "The Neverending Story") smack dab in the middle of my free new windshield. Figures. This is real life here people.

That's all for now,