Strudel got an anatomically correct potty doll for Xmas, and now there’s been a war going on all day long. This is what happens when Franny’s playdate falls through.
Franny’s no chump. She got me a few times today when I least expected it, like when I was washing the dishes and my hands were all wet. You can hear her laughing as I start filming. I know, I know–oldest siblings shouldn’t have children of their own. I know. Bonus: you can see how messy my house gets during dinnertime.
Today is better and less angst-filled. (I know you were on tenterhooks.) I think I was getting too much sleep for a couple of days. Sleeping too much is bad because it leads to thinking. And thinking starts with a “T” which rhymes with “P” that stands for Pooping Pepper.
I may have bought these today. I am feeling coy so I will let you draw your own conclusions.
Okay, okay, you are so strong and persuasive and you smell so enticingly of Old Spice that I’ll tell you: I did.
For a few years now I’ve been just clonking the big salt can and my ugly grinder down on the table. Now I can class things up a bit with a matched set!!! I got it from this cool newer store in Wallingford, which features all the stuff you don’t really need but OOH you want it. Like giant gummy steaks. They are so nice and friendly and they offer opportunities for discounts via trivia which, I regret to say, is actually a draw for me as a consumer. I also bought Strudel one of those “magic wands” filled with glitter and blue water, for the car. I loves that place.
It is also important that you check in on the state of affairs between Skeletor and Beastman. Warning: Giant Rubber Wangs and lyrics about buttsex ahoy. I feel convinced somehow that the Tiger Lillies influenced this. Additionally: Not Safe for those who Abhor Bam Margera (NSHTWABM).
Finally, your stripper is probably farting on you. I have never actually been to a strip club, because I generally get my action on at the Blood Bank (Hiiii Raoul!), but now I am motivated to go to see if I can tell who’s “crop dusting.” Awesome, Ladies!
P.S. This is old, but new to me! Tirzah sent me an email with pics of “dragon John,” who has covered his manparts with a Puff the Magic Dragon tattoo. Thanks to Blah Blah Blog, since I found you when I googled up the dragon peen. And thank you Tizzy, you always send me the craziest shit.
Sometimes I feel sad that my kids are four-and-a-half years apart. And then I see lovely family tableaus like these. Hee!
S’up jerks. As I am in need of a second swimming pool, I have decided it’s time for me to sell out. Who wants some I, Asshole swag? I thought so.
Make all your xmas nightmares come true! One-click shopping! MUCH BETTER THAN THAT OTHER STORE OVER THERE. No, don’t click on that! Come back!!!!
Companion and I went to his holiday party on Saturday night. We got all dressed up and junk, knowing that some people would be wearing ball gowns (there was a fine Scarlet O’Hara number in attendance) and others would be wearing jeans. We were somewhere in between. I just got my hair did, thanks to Supa, so it was krazy baboon’s ass red.
As we walked in the door, we were immediately descended upon. I suspect they were eager to bounce us because we were looking pretty non-conservative. Since Companion works for a contracting firm, he didn’t actually know anyone in the room and no one recognized him. But lo, we gave the correct names, and were name-tagged, wined, and sent on our way.
Baby not sleeping; SJ insane. Lifeguard sleeping; girl drowning.
ANYWAYZ, devoid of the mental energy required to even make a mufuh sandwich, I click on Internets. You benefit from my voluntary subjugation.
1. Otto the Cat and Perfect Strangers mashup? I dunno, man.
2. 1337 kids PWN parents. THANK GOD a local news station is on the case to uncover this “potentially dangerous threat.” By this logic, sporks are “potentially fatal.”
3. Family Dog. This was a short on Stephen Spielbergo’s Amazing Stories years ago, and the first time I saw it it almost made me pee. This spawned catchphrases for years. “Hewo, Mawyanne. Are you a good baby?”
Wow, all SFW today! Unless your work expects you to, you know, work.
Oh, finally, finally, we got our crapping fuckity xmas ficus erected. By “erected,” of course, I mean “brought downstairs and put in the front window for the neighbors to gawp at.” Take that heathens! BABY JESUS SMASH! Ha ha, just kidding. It is unseemly to visualize the Baby Jesus in tatty purple pants.
After much struggle and debate, Franny and I decided that our xmas ficus needed to be more bananas, so we hired everyone’s favorite L.A.M.B.-flogger, Gwen Steponme.
I hung all four of the remaining gingerbread ornaments I made the other night. That was all that was left after Hurricane Strudel came through. Her favorite new game in to play “Counter Fishing.” The rules are simple: blindly grope around for objects on the kitchen countertop. When you feel something, fling it to the floor as violently as possibly. Bonus points if you can make mommy cry when you break her mug, which was ugly but had sentimental value. SCORE!
So the gingerbreads were flinged.
When Franny comes back from her dad’s, we are going to make little paper chains, too, and that’s probably it. We started this holiday decorating sham a couple of years ago, and now it’s tradition. Franny expects the ficus now. She brags to people at the grocery store about it. Learn from my mistakes, people.
Sweetney threw down the xmas tree gauntlet a few days ago, and I make my retort. Who’s your xmas daddy now, Sweetness? You, with your…actual Christmas tree and…real, non-crapped up ornaments…. Well, it looks like you are MY xmas daddy.
Ah well. I’ll be back next year. If I take good care of him, Mr. Ficus will be at least four inches taller and might even be able to hold a few balls. And then I’ll really bring it.
Oh, and: I am starting to like Rosie O’Donnell again. That’s crazy–I never thought that would happen in five million years. Here she is on Teh View today (?) talking about the no-panties bimbo summit. Sorry it’s stinky AOL video and their stinky ads. Oh, and shut up, Hasselbeck. I want to feed you processed pimento cheese spread until it comes out of your straight-woman (read: humorless), ultra-conservative ears. You kill joy and beauty.
Strudel may or may not have just eaten a nickel. Part of me is a little proud. It’s only a matter of time before we move onto cue balls and goldfish! There are pageant moms and stage moms. I think I’m going to be a sideshow mom. “ONE MORE SWORD, HONEY! YOU CAN DO IT!” Thank heavens, the older one was turning out so normal.
It’s another SNOW DAAAAY, bitches. (Weep.) We are decorating the Xmas ficus today. I haven’t been able to track down a good picture of Beyonce lately to use as our snow angel, so Franny and I will have to flip through People until we find someone else we like. Pictures later, unless I bust into the cough syrup. J/K, J/K. I save it for forcing the kids to nap.
We will not be using Crotchshot Britney (TM). What happened, Britney? You were cute for five minutes again. Now you’re making Paris look classy. That sounds like a yo momma insult, doesn’t it? Yo momma so trashy she make Paris Hilton look classy. Say, there’s an idea for my tree topper….
Spears, you’re dead to me. Again.
(Thanks for the Britney link, concerned librarian friends.)
