Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Oh Bristol, How I Love Thee!

Bristol - we came, we saw, we got knee-walking piss drunk. Someone should throw that on a bumper sticker.

So,fun was had by all. I would like to tell many soul tickling tales of fun from Bristol....but one doesn't know where to start...

Perhaps one should start with passing the "I'm A Lady Discount Lingerie Store"? (As opposed to passing the "I'm A Man Discount Lingerie Store")

Perhaps one should start with all the race fans who acted like this was the first time they've seen a little red wagon? We pulled up with wagon in tow and you would have thought we were hauling a modern scientific miracle. Those Bristol fans just love them some new-fangled technology! Like wheels! And a wagon! With a beer cooler! My god, IT'S GENIUS!

Perhaps I should begin with one young suiter who tried to woo me in his pop-up camper? Sort of a pop-up in a pop-up? Get it? Hahahahahaha

Perhaps I should begin with the frantic search for a little rubber raincoat for one member of our little gang? Sadly, search unsuccessful and therefore subsequent romance unsuccessful. Pity. (And no, Daddy, I'm NOT talking about me)

Perhaps I should begin with the phone call received from the one "most likely to be shot" client who has my cell phone number and called me in mid-drunk? I believe I gave some relevant advice like "Fuck them, those fuckers! They can't fucking do that! They don't know who they're fucking dealing with, Sista!" (Please note: said comment was made to 62 year old, african american special ed lady teacher who I happen to be representing - expecting call from state bar any minute now)

Perhaps I should begin with the fact that one of use ran out of clean underwear so in a show of solidarity we all ditched our drawers? (By the way, the chafing creme works)

Perhaps I should begin with our attempts to find a "shortcut" out of the track where we decided to scurry under a fence and make like mountain goats down the side of a hill so steep that all other race fans stopped to call and heckle our descent?

Perhaps I should begin with my fall on said hill and how I managed to find some thorns on said hill with my said underwearless ass?

Perhaps I should simply not relay ANY of these thinks me already shared too much.

Like I said, fun was had by all.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Life and Times of a Gothic Princess

Okay, I'm here. Stop your bellyaching. Before we discuss the POD, a few housekeeping issues. I have been discovered and invaded by the spammers. Apparently, my interest in a lifetime supply of Viagra and lengthening my penis has caused said spammers to find me easy prey. So now there is a little word verification thingy for when you comment. Please don't let this disuade you from commenting - it's really not hard. And we all know I'm slut for comments. Well, I'm also just a slut but that's neither here nor there.

I have slowly but surely recovered from the Captain Nutty visit. And for those inquiring minds, I do not know how the chaffing creme works as I DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM WITH CHAFFING..... sweating is another issue. Speaking of sweating, I had to sew the emblem on the POD's new school blazer (does this just scream stuck-up private school or what?) And let me be perfectly clear, I do not know how to sew. I "hemmed" her pants with hemming tape - no sewing involved. But alas, one emblem must be sewn on or else we're looking at a uniform detention. So, I sewed. And? It made me break out in a sweat! Do you hear what I am saying? I am so out of shape that SEWING caused me to break out in a sweat. Good god. Who knew sewing was an aerobic sport?

Anyway,as I said previously, the Princess of Darkness (POD) has returned from her royal visit to the great white north this summer and has resumed her duties here. The summer matured her royal highness a wee bit. She seems to have moved away from the Insane Clown Posse worship into a stomach-turning fascination with Marilyn Manson. Hard to say how to take that one. Of course, Captain Nutty takes this as a further sign that good old Belzebub has his little foothold into our family.

On the good news front, apparently, gal pal, Krystal with a "K" who was the POD's gang-banging, orthodontically challenged girlfriend,kicked the POD to the curb a few weeks ago. I won't even go into how this bucktoothed delinquent hurt my precious little POD and how I would like to kick her ass but I fear retaliation from the Latino gang community of the white bread suburbs in which they reside - they might run me over with their mom's subaru or something.

On the bad news front, they are "still friends" and POD of course won't listen to my stories of why it is so bad to be "friends" with your ex's. I try to explain but I get the "what do you know?" I'm just a stupid older sister who's never been dumped! I objected and said "of course I' ve been dumped!". To which the POD looked surprised and said, "you've dated???". Yep. Point made.

POD is currently dating a boy. That's right - A BOY. A boy who goes to her school and has manners (also a crazy ass mother but who am I to hold that against someone)! I'm sure any day now I'll hear how he's like the school's "most likely to be someone's bitch in maximum security" or the "dropped the soap on purpose guy" but for now I'll take it. I expect any day to get some phone call from the school about blow jobs in the locker rooms or something but for now we're flying good.

POD also managed to snag the lead in the school play. That's my baby - drama queen! One day she'll be famous and then I'll be rich when I publish the tales of her misspent youth. Oh, the glory that day. She will sooooo be the next Courtney Love.

I will be leaving tomorrow to join my pals Cowboy Dan, Kitty and the Dutch Porn Star in Bristol for a little NASCAR fun. Make sure you look for me on t.v. I'll be the redneck one on top of the r.v. screaming obscenities at Jeff Gordon. Kitty has purchased a laptop so I just MAY be able to live post from racing ruckus. Wish me luck!

Tuesday, August 23, 2005


Fear not, gentle readers, I am still here. I am simply busy and in a slow spiral of death I was trapped in during Captain Nutty's visit.

I don't have much time to write right now but wanted to pop in and let those "anonymous" readers and commentors know that I will be back and your concern is touching (please read with sarcasm). I have been busy getting the Princess of Darkness back into her school groove (no easy task) and there is that little thing of running my own firm, i.e. my attempts to make money.

Unfortunately, not all of us can run off to the Michigan racelike some idiots I know. "Anonymous", my ass.

Monday, August 15, 2005

More Therapy In My Future

So when your mother comes to visit you, does she bring you a gift? A little knick-knack perhaps? Some new fashion for the impending fall season?

My mother brought me a little gift.

She brought me anti-chubb rub creme or as the label calls it "new chafing relief powder-gel for my inner thigh and bikini area".

Top that...I dare you.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Passive Aggressive? Me?

So Captain Nutty has arrived with the Princess of Darkness (POD) in tow (for those newcomers, this means my mother is visiting with my little sister). Captain Nutty has been her usual nutty self and the POD has displayed her usual surliness and general disdain for all things cheerful and nice (it's going to be a great school year for me and POD!)

This all leads me to this little scenario.

The night before a big hearing I come down with a raging case of the old backdoor trots. This of course follows me into the morning and all the way to court where I sit on the bench with butt cheecks firmly clenched praying that I don't have to make a run for it in the middle of my client's testimony. Well, I make it through and chalk all the intestinal discomfort up to stress....until I get home. I arrive home and Captain Nutty laughingly informs me that last night whilst preparing some pasta (okay, it was macaroni and cheese), she added some oil to the noodles to keep them from sticking (like this must be a HUGE problem for Kraft Mac N'Cheese. Who the fuck adds olive oil to pasta from a box with day-glo, powdered cheese?). However, by accident she added the dish washing soap that is in a decorative bottle by the sink THINKING it was olive oil. What fun! What stomach cramping shennanigans!

Now, one could maybe forgive her for such oversight considering the soap WAS in a decorative, unlabeled bottle. BUT it was her idea in the first place that I put such dishwashing soap in a decorative bottle, she even BOUGHT me the bottle and IT WAS NEXT TO THE DAMN SINK, FOR CRYING OUTLOUD!

Well, I managed to not throttle her because any criticism of Captain Nutty merely prefaces a good hour's worth of tears and general dismay on how she has failed me and "why I am so mean to her".

But later I notice as she is sitting out on my back porch that she is sitting on the towel I used to wipe up the dog's pee the night before. And.....I say nothing. Nothing at all.

Does this make me a bad person?

Don't bother answering, I know I'm going to hell.

Friday, August 05, 2005

Have You Ever....*

*You may have noticed a recurring theme here...on Fridays, I find it difficult to form any cohesive topic so I'm thinking about making this a regular Friday thingy. Just a little spot where I can put down my random thoughts that intrigued me during the week but weren't enough for me to spin a whole post out of. So just bear with me on Fridays.

Have you ever...

...had a sex dream about Chandler from Friends and when he gets to the naked part he has a mangina? How 'bout a mangina with teeth?

...watched Extreme Makeover and thought "wow, I'm tons uglier than her....this can't be good"?

...wondered if your current drinking habits scare other people? if they scare college kids, does this mean your death is imminent?

...convinced a client that the "court" is requiring a document late in the game as opposed to the truth being you forgot to give it to them in the first place?

...found yourself really, really captivated by Kelly Rippa?

...thought to yourself "man, I could totally do Dr. Phil's job"?

...considered ordering a cookie cake all for yourself? one that you can just bring home and eat all the icing off of without anyone else knowing?

...looked a person doing a really, really menial job and thought "sheesh, that guy looks way happier than me" and then forgot about such thought as soon as you sped off in your Lexus?

...wanted to get into a car accident for know...a little time off?

...just enjoyed saying the words "ben-wa balls"? (please note - not USING ben-wa balls just saying the words...keep it clean, people, keep it clean) neither.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

If You Believe, We Put a Man on the Moon

Explain this to me, gentle readers. We can develop heat resistant tiles to protect the underbelly of the space shuttle during re-entry into our atmosphere. We can devise a protective suit for an astronaut to take a meandering stroll through space and repair said tiles when they run amuck. Hell, we can even figure out how to crap in zero gravitiy without getting yourself all mussy. So we can conquer outer space but are you trying to tell me we can't conquer butt sweat?

We have anti-perspirants and we have deodorants for the old pits. But what does the butt crack have? What does the shelf beneath the boobies have? What does the cleavage running down your spine have? (And don't even getting me started on the general groin area)

Some brainiac invented protection for the old armpits but then apparently decided - "Hey, good enough. I've done my part for humanity." He surely expected some olfactory genius to continue his good work and invent some miraculous products to leave us all high and dry. Well, his grand social experiment failed. Failed miserably.

And don't you dare write to me expounding on the virutes of baby powder. Been there, done that. I've gone out of this house looking like I just had a cocaine bender with Tony Montana but it has done nothing to staunch the flow of sweat down my back boobies.

In fear of dire repercussions, I won't discuss my theories regarding the giant Johnson&Johnson/Proctor&Gamble conspiracy - you know the one where they all get together the most effective ways to increase global warming so that we sweat more and then buy more of their ineffective products. Somewhere in Battle Creek, Michigan, there is gleeful laughter in the boardrooms. (and yes, I know Battle Creek is the home of cereal and not sweat products but trust me, Snap, Crackle & Pop are probably in on this too - never trust three midgets in weird little hats)

I call on modern science to get their collective heads out of their collective ass cracks (sweaty ones, I'm sure) and develop some all-over body non-sweatner. Cancer will cure itself but sweat is never-ending.