Monthly Archives: November 2006

The Lady’s Got a Taste for the Round Shinies

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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.)

I Thought It Was a God-Given Right to Beat Off in the Shower

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Memo.

Not fake.

Aw, Mr. P., you’re such a joykill.

ETA:

Hello Mr. Robinson,

As a complete stranger, I am sorry to bother you about something so odd. There is an image of a memo with your name on it circulating the Internet in the United States, and a lot of lively debate about whether it is real or not. Did you write this memo? If you did, do you recall how recently it was written? I am NOT a journalist. This is innocent curiosity.

Here is the image of the memo: http://img156.imageshack.us/img156/1494/cloggedjm9.jpg

Have a good day!

Thanks for your time,

SJ

I’ll let you know if I get a response.

When I Awaken, I Must Be Mistaken, I’m on Third Avenue

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tirayum.jpg

WOW! Today was my first day of yoga! I sat on the edge of the bed, putting on the pants I bought for kickboxing partway through when Companion’s running pants weren’t doing the trick anymore.

“Are you excited?” Companion asked groggily.

“Yes. When they ask me what my goal is, I’m going to reply, ‘To fellatiate myself,” I said.

“Don’t you mean…?”

“No, I mean ‘fellatiate.”

“See, people like you is the reason I’m glad I’m not a teacher.”

I did really well! The teacher gave me a gold star. She asked me if I’d ever done yoga before and I said no, but later in the privacy of her office I confessed my sordid yoga past with Denise Austin. I was forgiven on the spot!

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OH FANGSGIVING. Wiggety Wham Wham Wazzle!

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1. Can I tell you something? I have been hesitant to bring this up, but tomorrow IS Thanksgiving. And everyone knows what Thanksgiving is about, RIGHT? No, not gonorrhea awareness. That’s next month. NO, not the wanton subjugation of indigenous peoples. God, what is wrong with you today?

Thanksgiving is about FAMILY, jerks. And I need to tell you a story about family. I have not seen my father since I was three. Long story, and the short version is that there’s no hard feelings about that part of my past.

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SeaFed FTW!!!!

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*Alright, if you’re tired of SeaFed drama, just skip to Other News. You have been warned.

Franny slipped and fell down a couple of stairs while she was walking down to the basement on Sunday. She hit her back and has a bruisy line on part of her spine now. This would be pretty normal, except for the fact that when she started crying a disturbing story tumbled out of her.

She told me that recently when she asked her dad if she could spend Thanksgiving over at my house this year, her got really angry and sent her to her room for even asking. After she came out she was made to apologize to both him and her stepmother for asking.

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Companion Sings the “No Chaichi-Humpin Blues”

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I have barred Companion from the house until he gets his Chachi-mop mown down.

“What?” he said, incredulously.

“I said, ‘Don’t come home until you get a haircut.’ I am not bedding down with Scott Baio tonight.”

“Ugh,” he ughed, but then he complied. I promised I would keep the lentil stew I’m making warm. That’s better than it sounds, I swear. It’s not just a pile of hippie barf. There’s carrots and bacon, and some other crap.

Man, if I had a diner I’d be bringing them in in droves. Tonight’s special: Some Crapped Up Stuff I Found. Served with Sauce avec “lumps de foreboding.” Poor Companion. The only reason he comes home every night is because he has nowhere else to go. And the bench warrant. Heh.

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They’re Just Like Apples, Only Smaller

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Thanks everyone, for giving me some sweet, sweet reader’s advisory. Mmm, yeah. I will certainly pursue some of your leads.

1. So, what’s going on? I am having one of those times where I am busy with very boring things. I look back on the day, and I say, “Man, today was jam-packed…with lameness.” On the other hand, it’s keeping the winter wackness at bay, for now.

Supa is a busy working lady for pay now, after being out of the paid work force for eight years. The tables have turned so completely. When I met her, she was at home with her crazy girls, and I was just about to start graduate school. Now Supa is relishing her freedom from being screamed at and vomited on all day. Because when that happens at work, people get fucking FIRED!

After her first day Supa texted me: “Working is so much easier than being a mom!” Ha! The secret’s out now. Watch out, indolent husbands.

2. I don’t usually talk about this. Ugh.

I have taken leave of the kickboxing. It is due to be over this week, but I haven’t been feeling right since I got back from Canadia. I’ve had syphilis for forty-three years, and my nose is collapsing, so I think I should have something done about that so I don’t ruin my pretty face.

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Readers Advisory, PLZ

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Hello, I am crapping out on this one, and I know I have some lurking librarians here, so….Help me Obi-Bun!

Sweet, I got to use that terrible joke twice in one week.

Anyway, I am looking for pregnancy books written in Japanese that are available online or here in the U.S. They would be for a native speaker. I’m looking for anything good, and translations of popular English books are fine. Anything except What to Expect When You’re Expecting, aka “The Evil Book of Fears.” I have crapped out at SPL, Amazon, and Powell’s.

Hospital-focused birth is fine. The recipient is not a spawn-while-you’re-scrambling-eggs type like me.

Thanks, if anyone’s got anything. Email’s whatever at this domain if you don’t want to comment.

NaChoPoMo

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What is it?

It’s National Choad-Poking Month!

Do What in the When Where?

You heard me, jerkface! Poke a choad! It’s fun! It’s good for your health. If you are not poking a choad, you are letting America down.

Rules

Poke a choad every day this month!* Sorry, your own DOES NOT COUNT. Poking your own choad will cause immediate disqualification.

*I, Asshole is not responsible for any sensations, good or bad, experienced by the poker or the pokee. Warning: choad-poking may cause incontinence, crooked seams, flatfoot, gout, depression, “stinky finger,” or girlish giggling. I, Asshole would like to remind you to poke choads at your own risk.

Prizes?

Additional ones, you mean? Choad poking is its own reward, friend.

“I solemnly swear to poke a choad every day this month. Starting today. Unless I forget or just don’t feel like it, or decide to eat all the peanut-butter filled pretzels for lunch instead.”

For Suebob.

The Art of the Deal

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Supa and I had just gotten back from kickboxing, and Companion was clomping around the house, gathering up his things for work.

“Oooh,” I said, “will you take back this DVD on your way?” I waggled the yellow box at him.

“I thought you would do it,” he said.

“Aren’t you going right by there on your way to work?” I said.

“Wellll, yes, but I’ll have to cross the street, and I thought you would have time to do it today, and….”

“Cross the street! I guess that’s pretty hard to do,” I said. He sighed and took the DVD out of my hand.

“I feel like I’m being taken advantage of,” he replied, as he set off downstairs to get his bike.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you later,” I called after him. “I’ll be here taking care of your kid and making you dinner and then having sex with you later! So thanks for going all the way out of your way!”

I heard a groan from the basement.

“Hee hee,” I said.

“Burn!” said Supa, from the couch.