Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Nurse Tricia

After five days of secondhand *smoke*, sharing forks with toddlers and bludgeoning immune systems with an overload of beer and wine, my folks are both down for the count with respiratory infections. Pussies.

I'm playing nursemaid, which mostly consists of yelling at them to cover their mouths when they cough. I could probably stand to be a bit more nurturing, but I don't really want to waste this saucy little outfit on my dad.

I have to give him some credit, though - he's a tricky fucker, even when he's gravely ill. I offered to make him soup this morning and he declined...and then in a calculated preemptive move, he grabbed the last bucket of homemade Chex mix and stuffed his germy fist inside, rendering the entire thing inedible for anyone but himself.

Instead of taking anal temperatures or giving sponge baths, I offered to wash all their clothes. This isn't as selfless as it sounds - I'm admittedly just trying to rid the condo of errant germs.

Midway through the laundry, my mom meekly asked if the laundry was almost finished.

"Why?" I wondered aloud.

"Because I coughed so hard I peed my pants," she admitted sheepishly.

"Change your own damn undies!" I yelled in horror, bolting. "I'm going to Starbucks."

I have pretty extensive knowledge of medical science, thanks to WebMD, and my standard remedy for any ailment is to holler until someone gives me a prescription for Xanax. But I don't have any...and if I did, I sure as shit wouldn't waste those jewels on them.

I guess I should don my HazMat suit and head back upstairs. If I'm lucky, they've taken a turn for the worse and I can drive them to the ER and argue (totally on their behalf) for some painkillers.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Monday Marvels

The Top Ten Reasons to Marvel over Monday, November 29th

10. I'm grateful there isn't a union for hardworking livers. I've never given mine overtime or holiday pay, or even provided any benefits, but it just keeps on performing the same thankless job.


9. I'm stupendously thankful for water and Excedrin, the sponsors of this Thanksgiving weekend.

8. I'm grateful for green bean casserole with mushrooms and onion rings. Nothing says Midwestern Holiday like dousing your veggies in gravy, topping them with something deep-fried and calling it a hot dish.

7. I'm thankful that even though everyone in my family is completely judgmental, we're all such losers that it's not that painful when we're being judged by one another.

6. I'm happy that I finally have health insurance again, which should cover the episiotomy so I don't split myself in half birthing this food baby. I think I'm going to name her Gravy Pie Cheese Lorntson.
In lieu of flowers and teddy bears, donations
are encouraged to help in the care and feeding of
Gravy Cheese Pie Lorntson...

5. I was relieved to see that now that my cousin's kid is five, he's figured out that I am not 'Neil's Mom'. Since my bro is only three years younger than I am, that smarted a bit last year. This year I was upgraded, and Abe now refers to me as Neil's Girlfriend. I guess I should stop nuzzling his ear in public, but sometimes I just get lonely.

4. I'm thankful for the Garmin, so that it could tell Dad precisely which places to refuse to turn. He'll teach that GPS the best route.

3. I'm grateful that we were all too high busy to take pictures this weekend. I'm not sure we need the photographic evidence, which would likely be incriminating AND unflattering.

2. I'm thankful that I didn't wet Abe's bed during my seven-cocktail coma nap. Although, he's five so I could've just blamed it on him and sworn it couldn't have possibly happened while I was using his bed.

And the number one reason to marvel over Monday, November 29th?

1. I'm really, really relieved that I didn't break Hannah when I dropped her on her head. I want to come back for more green beans next year and if I kill a kid every time, they'll probably stop inviting me.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Pickled Livers

I have to reiterate that I've been told not to blog about this weekend, so my solution is to blog anyhow but to tell you that some of this is true and some of it's not - you can decide for yourself what to believe. This way I figure I can't be held legally culpable for any of it.

Thanksgiving dinner was AMAZING. Some folks *may* have complained that it wasn't served until 10 PM, because some other folks were too busy getting high to properly handle kitchen duties. All I know is that when 50% of the cooks passed out around 7 PM, I was called up from the bench and I think I handled things extraordinarily well considering I don't normally cook OR smoke pot.

There were *rumors* of a kitchen fire during the preparation, but really - how do you define fire? I don't think that smoking out the entire house is quite the same as actually burning it down, and some people really like crispy turkey.

If you interrogated *some* people (but not my mom), they *might* tell you that one of their children held them down and forcibly blew pot smoke up their nose repeatedly, but I'm sure that's a lie. I've we've been taught that NO MEANS NO. And besides, who's ever heard of a child 'peer pressuring' their parents? It's absurd. No jury's gonna smoke that bowl.

There may or may not have been belligerent drunks hurling bottles of tonic and limes at one another.

There may or may not have been someone who shit their pants this weekend, and it may or may not have been the three-year-old.

But most importantly? This may or may not be true. Because obviously, if it were true, Jerry Springer may or may not have been there.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

You Learn Something New Every Day...

Family reunions are amazing informative! I've learned all kinds of stuff about my family this weekend, but unfortunately, I've been bound by oath not to blog about any most of it. Seriously - we all pricked our fingers and smushed our vodka blood together over this pact of silence.

I can't leave you totally in the dark, though, so at the risk of alienating myself from my family forever (because that would be tragic), I'll share a smattering of the more PG things I've learned this weekend.

 - I learned that if you I drop a three-year-old on her head, she doesn't bounce. There don't seem to be any lingering mental impairments, though - she still knows that two plus two is nine.

 - I've learned that the fastest way to end a painfully long game of Candyland is to cheat. The kids were too busy pummeling one another to be able to testify against me.


 - I've learned that naps are critical for appropriate development and behavior. We'll try that tomorrow with the kids and see if we can get them to go down for a while, too.

 - I've learned that my belly after Chicago-style pizza is alarmingly similar in looks to Octomom's belly just before she was induced, so I'm hoping the state will step in now and pay for everything going forward.

 - My family should have learned by now that oaths of silence mean nothing to me. As soon as I'm out of striking range and I've wrung my liver out, I'll fill you all in on the juicy parts of this sloppy, shameful weekend.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Black Friday

For the love of God, who wants to get outta bed at 3 AM to go shopping??

There are plenty of things I want in life, some of which can be bought. Or, could be bought, if I weren't on the verge of bankruptcy.

But there is nothing I want badly enough to fight the crowds at the buttcrack of dawn on Black Friday. I'm not going into the ring to get battered and bloody over an X-box or a Diddle Me Spongebob.

Get yo ass up, boy! Mama's goin' shoppin'!
Three for ones on benzos, no prescription needed? Well....I might consider that. But I'd be more likely to bribe a friend to pick them up for me while I slumbered blissfully.

I noticed something new this year, though. Pre-Black Friday sales.

"Great deals! Beat the rush!"

What's next? Early Bird Pre-Black Friday sales? I believe we 'd call that a Halloween Sale.

Until Black Friday begins in June and includes a sweaty David Boreanaz and Mark Wahlberg sammich with a fistful of free opiates, this girl? Ain't gettin' outta bed.


Thursday, November 25, 2010

Screw the Indians

The Griswalds hit the road today.

Minneapolis to Chicago is a six-hour drive with a muscular bladder, but a nine-hour drive if you stop to pay your respects last week’s wages to the fucking Indians. They were perfectly happy to break bread with the whiteys back in 1621, but now they feel no compunction over charging for the Thanksgiving buffet at the Ho Chunk Casino and now they're busy adorning their dream catchers with my hard-earned dollar bills.

After losing our shirts to the redskins, we continued our pilgrimage to Chi-Town, learning to our dismay that the cheese shops are closed. Since when are Indians held in higher esteem than cheese in Wisconsin?

We just arrived at the hotel - broke, exhausted and hungry. I was trembling with low blood sugar from the cheeseless drive, but I licked the remote control in the room and seem to be perking up after the protein boost.

Now that we’ve Febrezed ourselves to minimize the eau du casino, we’re ready to head to my cousin’s house. As is customary during feasts, we will bear offerings at the door; three liters of vodka, a bottle of Bailey’s and some beer. Luckily, the liquor stores reopen tomorrow morning.

I’ve got to go now, and give thanks for that.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

My First Overdose

I guess I've always been a hot mess.

My predilection for drug abuse became evident at an early age, and I've always known it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

When I was three, my mom made the mistake of thinking she could take a shit in peace. Left alone for a few minutes, I struck.

Dragged the kitchen chair over..

...and scaled it in order to climb onto the counter...

...and extracted the bottle of Flintstone vitamins (yum) from the top shelf of the cupboard....

...and tore off that childproof cap faster than Snooki sheds her undies.

I gobbled them all...

...except for the very last one.

I padded into the bathroom, and asked my mom if I could have it.

"What is it?" she grunted.

"Mitamin," I explained helpfully.

"No, it's not - you can't get the vitamins down."

"Yes, I can. I eated them all. I show you!" I announced proudly.


My mom wiped and off we went to the ER to get my stomach pumped.

And so it began...

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Gobble, Gobble

When I was small, my grandparents had property up north on the shore of Lake Superior. It was here that I learned some of the most important lessons in life:

 - Bathwater is fully recyclable and can be shared repeatedly
 - Orange sherbet makes an excellent breakfast
 - Ticks don't hide in vaginas; be suspicious of anyone who wants to double check for you
 - Giving a kid sherbet for breakfast does not excuse diddling with them
 - Monsters DO exist; some have human heads and some have NO heads

My grandparents thought it would be a good idea for me to see how Thanksgiving dinner is made. We stopped at the coop on the way to the chopping block.


Grandpa reared back and swung the ax.

GUESS WHAT NOBODY MENTIONED TO ME!?
THOSE FUCKERS RUN AROUND LIKE
HEADLESS BANSHEES!

For the love of God, do you know what this sight does to a small child!?

So I ran down the hill in terror, and guess what else nobody mentioned? Gravity is boss, and the turkey ran down the hill, too. The headless bastard was chasing me, blood spurting everywhere.

I still have nightmares and it's been 30 years. Some things (and some people) haunt you forever.

This post is true.

Except for the part I lied about.

It was a chicken, not a turkey - so there's really no Thanksgiving segue. But holidays remind me of family, and most families suck. I'm thankful I have the mom, dad and brother I do - because grandparents? Are for the birds.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Monday Marvels

The Top Ten Reasons to Marvel over Monday, November 22nd

10. I'm thankful for road salt and businesses who use it. On Saturday, there was an ice storm - and an unexpected chance to play drunk dominoes. When the bar closed, everyone filed out and immediately fell down. I hit my head hard enough to pop my headband off, but I was in considerably better shape than the guy who kissed the curb face first, knocking himself and several of his teeth out.


9. I'm grateful that I've had offers from readers to buy me a helmet. I should probably just strap one on and leave it there until April.

8. I'm thankful for Martha Stewart On Demand. MSOD is this amazing new reality show in the kitchen where I say "make cookies" and my mom obliges.


7. I'm so grateful for Purina. I don't know how I could have sufficiently entertained myself through the hangover yesterday without watching this video twenty-seven times.

6. I'm feeling thankful to the Pilgrims and Indians for whatever that whole dealio was that garners me an upcoming long weekend. Nice work supping together, peeps.

5. I'm super excited to head to Chicago for Garrett's Popcorn a family reunion!

4. I'm immensely grateful for the upcoming settlement I'll be negotiating with the company that makes the Wordster machine at the bar. I'm suing those fuckers for not accepting penis as a word, which would've given us an all-time high score. 3.4 billion men would take my side in this argument, so I don't think the Wordster executives will want this to get to a jury.
3. I'm thankful for prescription-strength ibuprofen, since my head is still throbbing where I knocked it. I'd be more thankful if someone would share their good stuff with me, but I suppose some would say it's unwise to mix narcotics with head injuries.

2. I'm grateful for my brother's generosity. I *may have* mentioned missing the cats, and he jumped at the opportunity to offer to let me babysit them...while he goes to Cancun again for a week.

And the number one reason to marvel over Monday, November 22nd?

1. My bro and I have a dad who got out of his bed recliner in the middle of the night to come pick our drunk asses up in the treacherous ice storm, because the cabs wouldn't drive in the mess. I'm very thankful we didn't have to walk home because I can only hit my head so many more times before I'm going to be permanently retarded.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

No Refunds

Studies have been done to predict one's success later in life, based on a simple test of a small child's ability to delay gratification.

Put a cookie in front of a child and tell her she can choose to eat it if she wants. BUT...if she waits while you leave the room and doesn't eat the cookie until you return, she can have two. Exit the room and roll tape.

Some children sit politely and wait for the adult to return.

Some study the cookie, pick it up, sniff it...but ultimately hold out for the bigger reward.

And some children are stuffing the cookie in their mouth before the door even closes behind the adult.

Let's not even pretend we don't know which kid I was...


This alarms me...because it's only a matter of time before they figure out to perform this test in utero. And then what? Some people elect to terminate a pregnancy if tests indicate Down Syndrome or physical deformities. Will we now choose to abort future losers?

"Fuck! This one's gonna be a derelict! Let's cancel this kid and try again later, honey..."


I have plenty more to say about this study, but I've gotta go - my mom's making me cookies.

Friday, November 19, 2010

I Wonder...

...why farts only slip out unexpectedly in crowded but quiet places?

...why you need a prescription for Valium but not for Marlboros?

...if this is where the expression lucky duck comes from?

.


...why drive-up ATMs have braille on the buttons?

...whose idea it was to hire middle school boys to name national gas station chains?



...who decided it's a good idea for children to sit in strange old men's laps during the month of December?


...why people think her fat rolls are cute but mine aren't?


...why Indians make such spectacularly good food but such grody desserts?

...why we expend so much effort trying to change everything on our lives instead of just making ourselves comfortable wherever we happen to be?

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Mantastic Movember

I've opted not to grow a mustache in support of Movember. Don't get me wrong, I totally support balls...and, um...prostates. But I'm a single girl, and I have to draw the line somewhere. Facial hair probably won't improve my dating life.

Acutally, I just lied.

I really don't support balls. Think how much simpler the world would be without them - less duckbutter, simpler manscaping, and all the enjoyment of sex without the risk of pesky children as a result.

But I digress.

Balls are here to stay, so we must do what we can to protect them. This means cancer research, funding, jockstraps, nut cups and precision knee placement when straddling our men.

As long as the balls are around, though, we ladies do have a request. Please keep them April fresh.

I snapped a picture of this alarming billboard while driving home the other night.

Really, boys?

You need special undies to keep the goods from stinking?? I thought the word for such underwear was clean.

And since we're discussing clean balls anyhow, 
the winner of the Hound's Head Grooming Tool Kit for Men is:

Kathy Laraway Decker*
Comment #16

You  have 48 hours to contact me with your
shipping address to claim your prize.

*It actually picked #18 (my brother) first. But I decided he can't win.
Cuz I already bought him a kit. And also, he gave that spa basket
he won to his girlfriend instead of to me. So fuck him.

Unless Kathy doesn't claim her prize by Saturday afternoon.
Then I guess I have to honor the original contest rules.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Foxy Four-Eyes

After a road trip with my brother where he helpfully pointed out that I wasn't correctly reading any of the signs, I finally caved and went to the eye doctor. Now I'm stalling on the actual glasses part.

I told the optician I'd like glasses that look like this on me.
Bitch mumbled something rude about eye doctors
and miracle workers...

I told her she was crushing my self-esteem and I'd need a prescription
for Xanax to calm down; she pissed on my world again
 and told me she's not that kind of doctor.

Then she made some helpful suggestions,
with results more similar to this:

My initial plan of attack was to rent a stylish gay man to pick my frames. When he spoke the magic words ("I'd totally fuck you if you wore those, girl! Well, if I were straight..."), I'd know we'd found the winner.

But after some preliminary research, it appears I'll need a rich, stylish gay man - to pick them out and then buy them for me, which is probably a trickier negotiation.

I guess I'm sticking with the blurry vision for now...but that's not so bad. My dates will look better this way.


Tuesday, November 16, 2010

FAIL! Mornings - 1, Tricia - 0

This morning I woke up retarded. I say this with the utmost respect to people who have been medically classified as retarded, as I suspect know many of them handle their lives far better than I do.

Let's review.

First and foremost, I moved back into the nest a couple weeks ago because I'm broke. I'm guessing the cheerful real-tards who have kindly waited on me at McDonald's and WalMart are better skilled at money management: Hmmm...I have nine dollars and pizza costs twelve, guess I can't afford it - I'll wait until next payday.

But back to today.

I woke up, grabbed my lunch (that my mother packed) and looked for my keys. Nowhere to be found.

I assumed that my dad had them, as he'd gotten up early to take my car to the gas station and put air in the tires (because I'm too retarded to do this for myself). So I headed downstairs, realizing I'd be locking myself out of the building but desperately focused on getting my caffeine fix.

I tripped going out the door and my can of Diet Coke went flying and exploded on the sidewalk.

Walked into Starbucks, and handed them my Caribou gift card to pay for my coffee.

Took a call from my dad who explained he did not have my keys, so I looked again. Sure enough, they were right there in my purse.

Let myself back into the building with the intent of going upstairs to lock the door before I officially left for work. Pushed the garage button in the elevator out of habit, got in my car and left - not realizing until I hopped on the freeway that I didn't actually lock the door (because I'm too retarded to carry out a simple task).

Driving to work I suddenly wondered if I'd remembered to put on deodorant. Stuck a finger under my arm and sniffed. Nope. No Fresh Spring Meadows there.

This was all before 8:30 AM, people!

If anyone's wondering what to get me for Christmas, might I suggest a helmet and some bubble wrap?



FAIL!
Mornings - 1
Tricia - 0

Monday, November 15, 2010

Monday Marvels

The Top Ten Reasons to Marvel over Monday, November 15th

10. I'm thankful I'm not pregnant, as the cravings would be intolerable. I already fiend for bacon-wrapped hockey players when my period is coming; I shudder to think what pregnancy hormones would have me lusting after.

Shamelessly stolen from Justus Steel.

9.  I'm grateful for black men. I can always count on them to holler about what they'd like to do to me even when I'm bloated and logy and all my pants feel two sizes too small.

8. I got my HSA debit card in the mail and I'm excited to find out if recreational drugs are covered, and whether my dealer accepts plastic.

7. It was cold enough this weekend to break out my frog hat - which most surely made those around me thankful.


6. After our first blizzard this weekend, I am terribly grateful for three things: UNDERGROUND!

5. HEATED!

4. PARKING! 

3. I'm thankful that I can do shit like that - count each word on its own. Because this is my blog and I'm the boss. And also, I really enjoy saying things like "I'm the boss!"

2.  I'm grateful that next week is Thanksgiving, a time when I can ponder all the blessings for which I'm so thankful - such as a three-day work week followed by a vodka-soaked weekend.

And the number one reason to marvel over Monday, November 15th?

1. I'm pleased to report that although I only lasted five seconds on the mechanical bull a few weeks ago, I rode this penis like I stole it.
Giddyup, boy!

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Guest Star

So, I've already told you that my online profile is quite titillating to the geriatric set. I get swamped with emails from silver not-so-foxys suggesting that I look like I'd be a hoot.

Cuz mama taught you to share...
Today I was surprised to find out that apparently I am attractive to someone who doesn't bear an AARP card.

More specifically, two people who don't bear AARP cards.

That's right...I'm being propositioned as a guest star.

Now, I'm no fool.

I know how this conversation went down as they perused the profiles.


Hubs (clicking on picture of blonde could-be Playmate):
     She looks pretty good, honey.

Wife (thinking over my dead body):
     Um, I prefer brunettes...

Hubs (clicking on Megan Fox look-alike):
     Here's a brunette!

Wife (still thinking over my dead body):
     Hmm...she looks like she might have herpes.
(Shuffles profiles, lands on mine. EUREKA!) 
     How about her? She looks...nice.
(Nice = not so ugly that hubs will heave his lunch, but not as pretty as wife, naturally.)

Hubs (considering):
     She's a little...chubby - don't you think?

Wife (speaking soothingly):
     Nah, I think she's...sensual looking. Just think, hon - big tits!

Hubs (realizing with alarm this might be his only shot, and that a mediocre threesome is still better than no threesome):
     You're right, babe! Let's email her.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Minnesnowta

For those of you unfamiliar with the area, Minnesota is a land of changing seasons.  Summers are hot and humid, autumns are crisp and lovely...and then there are the other seven months of the year.

Winter.

Every winter I swear on the name of baby Jebus that it's my last in Minnesota.

I totally know how he feels...
I don't ski - have you seen me walk?

I don't snowmobile - have you seen me drive?

I don't ice fish, because it mostly just involves drinking in the cold. With a bladder the size of a Skittle and without the benefit of a penis, urination is too troublesome.

Today we had our first blizzard of the year and the snowfall totals are debatable. Weather reporters measure questionably, like men, and often tell us that five inches are eight. But the consensus seems to be that we received six to nine inches of sloppy wet snow so far.

The only thing that winter weekends are good for are extended cuddlefests, and my living situation is not particularly conducive to this. Whenever I snuggle up on my dad, he bellows some shit I can't quite make out...something about get the hell off my lap, you pervert, or some such nonsense.

So if anyone's looking for a cuddle buddy this weekend, I'm available. But you'll have to come pick me up because I drive like a girl. Yep, I said it - like a girl. I've lived here my whole life and I've never once managed to get out of a skid without hitting something. My winter driving is like my rollerblading - I can control the forward motion but stopping general only happens after impact.

FUCK! I spilled my coffee!

Friday, November 12, 2010

Chocolate-Covered Orgasms

Apparently chocolate is not a satisfactory substitute for sex. Nor did I even realize what I've been lacking, until I violently raped an innocent dessert. In my defense, though, it was dressed provocatively.

Yesterday the guys in the office suggested we run across the street for ice cream, but when we got there I was blinded by the light...of an outrageously hot and delicious looking man brownie...

...with candied penis pecans...

...and caramel dick drizzle...

Did I mention I haven't gotten laid in a while?

Mmmm....cockchocolate...

So as to seem (a bit) less hoggish and (a bit) more dainty, I offered half of my boyfriend brownie to my coworker. My logic was that, as with a Chipotle burrito, I'd be satisfied with half and feel sick to my stomach if I powered through the whole thing.

I wolfed down my half...and you bet your ass I swallowed.

I sucked the remaining chocolate off my fingers frantically.

It was nearly epic.

It was so good.

I almost came in my pants.

I may or may not have spent the rest of the afternoon seething with sexual chocolate frustration, fantasizing about pummeling my coworker and wrestling the other half of my boyfriend brownie out of his battered, beaten hands.

I CHANGED MY MIND!
 I DO WANT THE WHOLE FUCKING THING!

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Engine Idling Impatiently?

I know you're all on the edge of your seats, wondering who will win the mantastic Hound's Head grooming kit, and the nerves might be making you a little sweaty. If you need the Anti-Chafing Chassis Powder now because your nuts and bolt are sticky with anticipation, you don't have to wait until next week.

Minneapolis locals can stop by Dabble in Northeast or
visit the Hound's Head site for additional locations.

When the missus gets a whiff of the new you,
maybe you'll get your piston torqued.

But for the men who can let the anticipation build slowly,
and the women who love to pamper them, don't forget to

Mantastic Marvels - Bring His Sexy Back

I told you I wouldn’t be pimping any products I don’t personally use. I lied. Because this product rocks, the guy who came up with it is a friend of mine, and the holidays are coming.

Hound’s Head grooming products for men are spa-quality products, packaged in testosterone-fueled containers so as not to undermine your (or your man’s) rugged masculinity.

This ultimate grooming kit contains everything needed to whip a man into delectable shape. A quart of HH 10W30 Super Refined shampoo. Body Additive conditioner. Grill Polish toothpaste. Clean Mouth Washer Fluid. A trimmer for manscaping.

My personal favorite? The Anti-Chafing Chassis Powder.
So his nuts and bolt don’t stick.

You can purchase this make-man-over kit for the low, low price of $29.97 by clicking here. Or you can win this sweet shit for free.

I’m giving away one Grooming Tool Kit for Men, and you don’t wanna be the one left behind with the sweaty nuts and bolt.

One of my male friends agreed to review this spectacular kit for this post, but he couldn’t be reached for comment. Word is he smells too damn good and his girlfriend won’t let him put his pants on long enough to leave the house.


HERE'S HOW TO WIN THIS MANLY MARVEL

1) You must be a follower of this blog

2) You must LIKE both Tershbango and Hound’s Head Grooming Products for Men on Facebook

3) Leave a comment below stating your worshipful adoration and why you (or your man) deserve a make-man-over kit

Winner will be selected randomly and announced on this blog on 11/18. 
 
Winner will have 48 hours to contact me with shipping address, or an alternate winner will be posted.




Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Tis the Stinkin' Season

My Diet Coke? Is in a holiday can. And I heard The Music today.

Fuck this.

It's 67 degrees outside and I'm still eating Halloween candy. Can we please not have a three-month long Christmas?

Call me McGrinch if you will, but extended holiday festivities makes me wanna cry - and not in a wistful, nostalgic way. In a shoot my face off way.

No...more..festive sweaters!
Holiday music is nauseating. Thank God that caroling has become obsolete, because if I opened my front door and people were singing that shit in my face, I'd throw fists.

We spend 11 months out of the years chiding children and hollering stranger danger. But come December? "Hop on up in Creepy's lap, kid - tell him your fantasies!"

I said I've been nice, you dirty old fuck!
Every year for Christmas I pledge that I'm gonna go feed the homeless but my family inevitably ends up drunk at a casino. I give that one-armed penny bandit a  frantic hand-job and pray to hit a jackpot so I can pay off the useless presents I swore I wouldn't purchase this year.

Now, don't get me wrong - Jesus deserves a birthday party, too. But I cannot handle three months of commercialized merriment, so let's just skip to the 25th and toast him with a strong cocktail, shall we?

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Moms are Overrated

Word on the street is that some people think I'm spoiled.

That because "I'm broke", I should "be thankful" my parents were "nice enough" to let me move back in.

Yeah, there might be lovingly packed nutritious lunches to take to work every day. And perhaps my mom has been doing my laundry.

She may have bought me laser hair removal and a flat-screen TV for "my" bedroom in their place so I don't have to share their TV. And it's possible that sometimes I get a foot rub while eating my homemade dinner.

But it ain't all fun and games, people.

She took my favorite blankie to the dry cleaner the other day and was supposed to pick it up today. But did she? Did she?

No.

Because she went to the bar instead.

And left me home alone shivering with nothing but my kitty fur to keep me warm.

Also? When my parents went to McDonald's on the way home from the bar? They did not bring me any Chicken McNuggets.

We'll see what child services has to say about this!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go make my own damn peanut butter sandwich.

My Kitty and Her Fur Coat

Groupon recently ran a deal in the Twin Cities for three sessions of laser hair removal for a spectacular price. (My mama always has my best interests at heart so she bought one for me.)

Yesterday I called to schedule the laser assault and was told they'd be happy to begin my sessions...in February. Apparently there are a lot of furry vaginas in Minneapolis.

Now, the winters in Minnesota get really cold....
...booger-freezing cold...
...nipple-aching cold.

So although I'm dismayed to have to wait so long to bring sexy back, at least I'll have a fur coat this winter to keep my kitty warm.


In inspecting the Groupon, though, I noticed some alarming fine print. Groupon offers its users a chance to win $100...by submitting a picture of yourself redeeming the certificate.

Really, Groupon!? Really!?
.
If I send you a picture of my kitty being lasered, you'll give me a chance to win $100? What about my shot at Hustler? Perhaps the Early Stages of Chemo issue, which is as good my vagina's gonna get with only three laser sessions.

Although the hundred bucks would come in handy for a down payments on the remaining session. I'm gonna have to think hard about this one.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Monday Marvels

The Top Ten Reasons to Marvel over Monday, November 8th

10. I'm thankful that it was a gorgeous autumn day yesterday, just perfect for a brisk, crisp walk in the crunchy leaves...to the bar.

9. I'm grateful for the end of daylight savings time, because that extra hour of beauty sleep made all the difference. It was weird - I went to bed Roseanne and woke up Angelina...

8. I'm excited that it's nearing Thanksgiving, which is really the only holiday I enjoy - it means we drink a lot but nobody has to buy presents .

7. I'm happy to know a bonafide 'sex blogger' has cross-linked to my site. My blog can't be that boring if people who are actually getting laid want to read it!


6. I was relieved that my blind date did not show up with a sweaty forehead and chapped palms yesterday...though he did show up 25 minutes late, so we're left to wonder what exactly it was that he was doing.

5. I'm pleased that the cats shit all over the floor while I was babysitting them this weekend. Since it's the first time in their six years they've ever done that, I appreciate them saving the occasion for me.

4. I'm grateful that I was able to refrain from kicking mother or child at CVS Saturday. Child was throwing a balls-out temper tantrum and reeked of a rancid diaper while mother was hollering at him to "shut the hell up" and reeked like stale Pall Malls.

3. I'm thankful to know I'm bringing sexy back...to Houlihan's. Went to happy hour with my folks and I'm pleased to report that the guy who slipped my mother his number to give to me is only a year older than my dad.

2. I'm happy that 2010 is almost over because my New Year's Resolution for 2011 is gonna be to stop doing Monday Marvels. It's been 13 months of 10 unique things to be thankful for every godforsaken week...and I'm exhausted.

And the number one reason to marvel over Monday, November 8th?

1. I'm thankful for Oreo cookies. This weekend I determined they are the perfect snack to shovel down my gullet while reading in People magazine about Portia de Rossi's struggles with anorexia. The cookies were delicious.
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