Don't Let Husbands Decorate...

Right now...The President of the United States is staring at me. Two French whores and/or Western whores (I haven't decided which, and it's a family debate) are also staring at me...though in much more of a "come hither" fashion. Oh yeah and whilst all this staring me down is going on...I am being held up by a cross bow toting Chewbacca and a laser-y gun wielding Han Solo. I better run down the train tracks to Fenway Park.

I did a bad, bad thing. I let Brendan decorate. All those things in bold....are hanging on my wall...together...clan of the crazy.

I should have learned from past experience. Previously, when Bren and I lived in our condo...I had relegated his decorative prowess to a closet. Yup...a closet. He set it up like a bar...hung his favorite Madonna poster, Han and Chewy, The Beatles album cover, and all of his other college-y shit. I was OK with that. I could close the doors on that. Now I'm eye to eye with the Head of State and some disease ridden, horse back riding (I've decided they're western), but still slightly French inspired trollops.

The Obama photo was really more of a joke. It was funny...let me repeat the WAS. Bren's very Republican parents were coming to visit for the first time, and my crafty lil' hubby decided he would throw our new Prez in their faces. Months later...Barry (as I have come to call him) is still on our wall. Now, don't get me wrong. I heart our wonderful country..."oh say can you see????", I "Pledge Allegiance" and all that jazz...but...I think we done gone and pushed it a lil' far now. Bren?

The bow-tied, sepia toned "ladies of the evening" and the Star Wars side kicks have been with Bren since college? Childhood? Over 12-15 YEARS now? ***sigh*** I can't make him part with them....no matter the promotion of gun violence and prostitution. I'm a damn understanding wife!

Fenway was a gift from Bren's Mom...and I like it. The train tracks were Brendan's attempt at photography (on one of his hikes...on train tracks)...it's actually pretty good...a little repetitive...but it's got vision.

I love my husband...and I love our home. Our office/den room...not so much. But...it's 2 am and me and the "clan of the crazy" are up way past our bedtime...so Redecorating 101 will have to wait for another day. Night Mr. President...be ready at 3 am when I call your ass.

That's all for now,

Brandi

That'll Be The Day When My Breasteses Sell You Cigarettes....

I thought these were hilarious...maybe you will too. I can't believe there was a time when these ads actually sold products....just like now...I can't believe boobs can actually sell beer. Maybe one day ass cracks will sell nose plugs and belly buttons will sell contact lenses...but for now...I'm glad these ads are in the past....

Whoever thought up this Demure ad was a real Douchebag!

"It deodorizes so thoroughly, so pleasantly, you know you're the woman your husband wants you to be."

What a TOTAL crock of shit!

Since when has anyone lost weight cleaning the windows? I really don't know...I've never tried.

"Should a gentleman offer a Tiparillo to a violinist?"

Obviously he should! I mean what woman wouldn't want a 7" long phallic shaped menthol while she was simultaneously getting dressed and playing the violin? Come on! It's a no brainer. This woman has goals...you can tell.

1. Smoke a Tiparillo

2. Play the Violin

3. Get dressed...with or without bra

4. Get to the salon to change that f*cked up hair-do.

That's all for now,

Brandi xoxox

What Would Rachel Zoe Say?

Ok...I would love if you would all let me know what you all think of the new design? Please? One of the blogs I really like recently changed her look and I hate it....but ofcourse, I would never say anything! So please let me know if my changes are good or bad. I love input!

Is this "Bananas"? Or am I just "Nuts"?

Talk to me people,
xoxoxo
Brandi

Jumpin' Jack Flash....You Know What It Is...

Could it have got any worse? Yup...it's me remember? No I don't have scabies or anything like that...just the typical loser -y type of shit that always happens to me happened...yet again.

On my way to work...tunes were cranked...heat was pumpin'...traffic was not so bad...lights saw me coming and miraculously turned all green just for me...then...BAM! Shut down...like trying to move a stone sculpture I was. Late for work I was going to be...because...

I ran out of gas!

How far away way the gas station you ask? Only about 1/2 a mile...but way too far for my prissy lil' ass to walk.

So, I cursed the gods that obviously have it out for me...and called work. BUT WAIT! Yup, my phone is dying. BUT WAIT! I have the phone-in-the-car-plugger-inner-thingy! BUT WAIT! My car doesn't work...cuz' I ran outta gas! Through the beeps, I told my boss I would be late...and I would call her right back. Through the dying tones I called Bren and asked if we had road side assistance. Through the failing pulses...the last drops of power...I called for assistance...through my phone...grasping for juice...I got this:

Press 1 for English (beep, beep, beep...this is bullshit...)

Press 1 for a new claim (beep)

Press 2 for an old claim (bleeeep, bleep, blllleee....)

Press 3 for roadside assistance (3 damn it 3!!!!)

Press 1 if your car is immobile (beep are you effing kidding me? beep, beep)

Press 2 if your car is....(I can't friggin' wait for this...my phone is dying here people! Beep, BEEP, BEEEEEEP)

So, with the last ounce of strength and power that my phone could muster...I dialed work and said, "COME GET ME!!!!"

I walked into work with my head held low...for this is just too typical. Flat tires, missing keys, bad moods, gas tank on empty. The world has officially given me the finger. And now...I'd like to give it back.

On a lighter note...I'm in a better mood today. Could you tell? My car is safe & sound and has a full belly of gasoline. My phone is on the charger...and tomorrow...I'm going to get to work on time...even if I have to walk there naked, shoeless, and in my granny panties (cuz' I didn't do laundry tonight either).

That's all for now,

xoxo Brandi

Back Up....Back Up...Mind Ya Bizness...

I am in a foul f*cking mood...the kind that would my shrink testicles...should I have been lucky enough to get some of those diamonds in a bag. I have no testes to shrink, and my boobs can't get any flatter...so my pissy mood has grown more despondent.

I have no real reason for this Bitch Fest...it's not like it's "Arts And Crafts Week" at panty camp.(thank you Hank Moody...I needed a reason to use that one) I just dunno...and I feel like venting.

I have seen way too many snotty noses in this past week! Mothers? Have you not heard of the recent outbreak of illness that is crippling our nation? Leave your sick and snot filled children at home, or at least wipe their noses and don't let them touch the shit where I work.

God Damn this whole dark before 4:30 bullshit! I hate driving to begin with...then I have to drive home IN THE DARK with 50,000 Bostonian assholes who don't know what a passing lane is...but do drive in the breakdown lane instead. Yeah...that's legal...between 7-10 am and 3-6 pm. Anyway...it's dark and I don't like it.

I used up an entire roll of toilet paper 3 days ago trying to get it started. Why the f*ck do they have to glue that first piece down? 17 tries later, all the plies pulled apart, I finally had a satisfyingly large enough wad, and then I hit cardboard. Cheap ass gas station toilet paper...$5 a roll...and now I'm left wiping my ass with aloe enriched Kleenex because I am too lazy to go to the grocery store. Oh yeah...and I'm in a bad mood...but my ass is as soft as silk.

What next? Oh...right...Brendan wants a Porsche for Christmas. I'm not even going to touch that one. Know what I want? A Snuggie...and yet he tells ME that I'M crazy! Won't his ass be cold standing in the driveway looking for his sparkly new Porsche on Christmas morning...and I'll be all warm and toasty in my new Snuggie...cuz' we can actually afford that!

Well...I'm done. I'm still all huffy and forlorn...but...now you know and can share my load. Speaking of which...I have to do laundry. Sonofab*tch! Screw it...I'm wearing Granny Panties tomorrow and if anyone has the slightest sense of self-preservation...they better keep their thong wearing, clean sock sporting, non-gas station ghetto toilet paper having mouths shut.

It's going to be a great day...

That's all for now,

Brandi

***I feel a little better now...thanks! ***

That's A Whole Lotta Lobster...

"Talking about love is like dancing about architecture."

- Joan (Angelia Jolie) in "Playing By Heart"

The "Armani" sunglasses need to go!

My husband made it back to the States safe and sound. It was good to see his face....even though he was a little sunburned...he looked like he got a little Brazilian sizzle, saucy, ay yay ay.

He said the wedding was one of the best he had ever been to...Brazilian carnival dancers as tall and ripped as Amazon women (and barely dressed)...carnival drummers, lit dance floor, pyrotechnics, and dancing. If there was dancing...Brendan was happy.

Oh and meat...he said they ate a lot of meat. Meat off the grill, meat on a platter, meat on a stick. Meat for every meal.

Well, he made it back for two days and then he was off again...to Minnesota...eh? I'm missing him already! We've talked more on the phone than we've seen each other all month. Absence makes the heart grow fonder...pah!

Well, this post was not the most giggle worthy. I waited all week for something funny to say...alas...without my muse, I am blah. Next week, I promise to get back into the swing of things. If I walk into a door or trip an old lady....I promise to let you know.

That's all for now,

Brandi

Don't Be Tardy For The Party....oh oh oh oh

Well, it's day 2 and counting. I'm missing my hubby so so much! I'm feeling a bit lonely here all by myself...though now that my two cats only have me to adore them....they are constantly fighting for my undivided attention. That takes up a good part of my day.

It kinda sucks having no friends to hang out with out here. I moved from Vermont almost 3 years ago (Christ...has it really been that long already?) and I still haven't made any non-work friends to speak of. Being a hermit doesn't help. But working in retail is the real ball buster.

What have I been doing with my time alone? WELL....what haven't I done? It's been "off the hook" here at my house! I have caught up on all my missed episodes of Supernanny, Project Runway, and The Real Housewives of Atlanta. I wasn't gonna be "Tardy for that Party". I love that song....what of it?

I also eat whenever and whatever I like...and because Bren's not here...I am not ashamed. You may ask, "how does she keep that girlish figure?" Well, I'll tell you. I eat a Fun Size Snickers ( or 3 ) for breakfast, a frozen pizza for lunch, and then a "sensible" dinner. Like tonight...I cooked...a can of beets. No really, I cooked em'...on the stove and everything...no microwave. Bren would never eat beets and they are my favorite, so why not make a meal outta them. My shit is gourmet bitches! I used seasoning too! Well....salt...but I sprinkled it in my hand, and pinched it here and there....Julia Child was wiping tears of joy in heaven.

So anyway, I was really bored so I thought I'd bore you too. You're welcome. Tune in next time when I talk about my laundry habits, my toilet cleaning prowess, and garbage day! It promises to be way better than anything I could have written about dumb ol' Brazil...and I am only calling it dumb solely because I am not there and am jealous.

That's all for now,

Brandi

Say Hello To My Lil Fren'....

"Blue as the sky....somber and lonely, sippin' tea..." yeah that's me, all alone...so I put my records on, and let my hair down.







Brendan left for Brazil today...I'm missin' him already. I am not however, missing the 20 hour flight that he has ahead of him. Damn! I hope he at least gets to see some beautiful Brazilian women in thongs...he deserves it after that. (I'm such a good wife) I am staying home....taking care of the kids (kitties), and holding down the fort....with a knife next to the bed, an axe under the pillow, and a uzi in my Hope chest. Don't mess with the Zohan! This economy has not afforded me a trip to Brazil this year...but I got a really good price on my Mac 10 .45acp. It's shiny.

Before Bren left...our trouble making child (the orange one) came home smelling like gasoline. So as good parents do...we decided to give our "little man" a "little bath"...in the sink...with shampoo. Let me set the stage for you...our cat Gus, acts like he is on a permanent acid trip. He's a tweaker. We only had bathed him once before (skunk) and that was a blood bath. Or it looked like one. Tomato juice, the two of us, and a cat on crack. Bloody.

So anyway, we decided the sink was sufficient place to cleanse the smell of gas from Gus's arse...bad idea. Let's just say, Gus's ass still smells like gas but the kitchen window, stove, counters, and kitchen floor are sparkling clean thanks to Gus's "bath". He went from the cuddly little lion cub that he can be....to this:







I'm hoping the scars heal before New Year's.

"Maybe sometimes...we got it wrong...but it's alright."

Yeah, it's alright.

That's all for now,
Brandi