It pains me to have to say this...

This morning I had the pleasure of speaking with my best friend, Nakia. We've been attached at the hip since 2nd grade. I love her, man. We can totally communicate without saying a word. She is basically my clone, except she thinks she has more class. I would beg to differ.

Anyway, she tells me that she has given up booze and sex for Lent. Or maybe she told me that's what I should give up. I can't remember anymore because I have the memory of a Alzheimer's affected goldfish. Anyway, I asked her when Lent started, so I too, could give something up. That's when she pointed out that I'm both Cajun (Hello Mardis Gras??) and Catholic (not active, however. You are shocked, I know) and she expressed her disappointment in the fact that I had no clue when it was.

Well you know what? I've slightly missed the boat on this Lent thing by being a mere 4 days late, but I'm totally on board now, and I'm willing to extend my own personal Lent by 4 days if need be.

So I've been carefully considering what I would like to give up.

Cursing? Fuck that.

Booze?? Lets be realistic, shall we?

My crackberry addiction??? Not a chance in hell.

What I've finally come up with is somewhat lacking in originality, to be quite honest. I wish I could have given up with something that people would say "Oh yes, that is SO something Candice would give up for Lent. Only that crazy biotch would do that." but alas, I have the size of my ass to think about here. And since I'm an overachiever and all of that shit, I will now present you with my TWO items that I will be giving up for Lent.

Pizza and frozen yogurt/ice cream.

So technically, that's three things. Damn, I rock!

Anyway, over this past year or so I've clearly let myself get out of hand. I'm also married to one of those men that will love me unconditionally no matter what I look like, and how much of a lard ass I become. You see, when we met I was in the Army and I was very active at the time. All I ate were cereal and salads, assuming I chose to eat anything at all. I basically looked like this.

Okay, so perhaps I didn't look QUITE like that. I wanted to pick an anorexic looking Ethiopian long distance runner, simply because I thought that posting a picture of a starving child with flies stuck to their faces wouldn't be very tasteful. Seriously though, Brad and Angelina would have totally adopted me if they were together back then, and I would have totally been screwing my Dad at that point. Ahem, my adopted dad. He would have been my Woody (hehe) and I could have been his Soon-Yi.

Anyway, moving on. Brent loved me when I was "the 2 inch thick woman" when we were dating. When I got pregnant and gained like 70 pounds and ended up looking like Jabba the fucking Hut, He loved me then too.

Brent! Bring me foooooood!

Seriously, I've seen pictures of back in the day when I was less than svelte, and I could kick him in the nuts right now for ever letting me go out in public like that. He never once told me "Uh, I think you need to at ease on the grub and possibly hit the gym more. You know, for your health and all.." No, he turned all chubby chaser on me and decided to keep mum on the fact that my ass was big enough to blot out the fucking sun. Thanks. I'm still bitter about that.

Anyway, my point is that I have to take matters into my own hands. I've started eating shit I don't normally eat (pizza and ice cream primarily) and what's worse is that I coupled that with not working out as much as I used to. Doesn't take a genius to know where this is going.

So there you have it. It's official. I'm giving up (scrolling back up to refresh my memory....) Pizza, ice cream, and frozen yogurt for 40 days.

Menopausal women ain't got shit on the wrath that's about to go down around here. Brace yourselves.

Humor-Blogs.com

My name is Candice, and I'm a shoe-a-holic

You know, frankly, I can not be blamed for my weakness. It all started at a young age. I was an active kid so I wore nothing but tennis shoes. My shoe of choice back in the day were Nike's, of course. I specifically remember when a friend of mine came home from her family Vegas vacation with a brand spankin' new pair of Nike Airmax 95's. I had never seen them before, and she was the first person in our podunk town to have them. I was in love. Only problem is that at the time they cost like $165.00. Would my parents spend that on some stupid shoes? No big deal. I turned on the charm, and voila. I, too, had a pair of these bad boys.

These shoes changed the way I viewed active footwear from then on. Spending anything less than $100 bucks on tennis shoes would not work. Shoes that fell in that category were cheap for a reason. They were either ugly, or about as comfortable as walking around on a fucking 2x4. Trust me, I've walked around on plenty of 2x4's so I know what I'm talking about.

So every time I went into a shoe store, the sales person loved me because I was good for their commission. You see, I can't just buy one pair. I typically buy 2 of them at a time so that I don't wear one pair out. I didn't realize that this wouldn't ever happen because I typically had at least 10 - 15 pair to choose from at any given time, but this is neither here nor there.

I loved tennis shoes so much I even got a job at The Finish Line after I got out of High School. The fucking Finish Line, people! I did this solely for the discount that I would receive on merchandise (read SHOES) that I purchased there. I was good at my job, and I sold an ass ton of shoes. I also wasn't the typical bimbo that worked in those kind of places just to meet guys. I mean, it was an added bonus, but I actually knew what the hell I was talking about. Do you pronate or supinate? Need more ankle support? Avid runner? Just a lazy ass that doesn't plan on working out but wants some tennis shoes anyway? Never fear, as I have the shoe for you!

I figured at some point I would grow up, and my obsession for all things Nike, Asics, Mizuno, and Brooks would fade out, and I would up the ante with a nice Christian Louboutin stiletto habit. Well, not so much.

Fast forward to today.....

I'm currently banned from frequenting Dick's ever again. Penis? Yes. Dick's sporting goods? No. It's really all Sheri's fault. She went and purchased one of those Nike sensors that you slip in your shoe and it keeps up with how far you walk/run, and you can set up goals for yourself. I thought it was cool, and I'm now motivated to get really moving again because let's face it, if I don't I'm going to be able increase my income for my shoe habit by simply letting people advertise on my ass. Think ginormous billboard.

So anyway, I went to Dick's to get a spiffy sensor thing and a new pair of Nike's, because there is a special little slot in Nike's that accommodate the sensor, and apparently the other 3 pair of Nike's sitting in my closet wouldn't work. You know, new workout plan calls for new shoes. At least I thought it was a good excuse. Much better than the last time I stepped in dog shit and I had to rush out and get a new pair. Anyway, I walked through the huge doors, and the clouds parted and I began to hear the angels sing. I passed directly by the Nike selection (you know, the specific brand that I was going for) and made a bee line to the Mizuno's. *GASP* The new wave creation 10's are out and they are sa-weeet!! Porky the sales dude told me that they JUST came in today. Weeeell, a tha tha, a tha tha, a tha tha thaaaaaaaaaaat's all folks! SOLD! Get me a 10.5 and we can wrap this up. I said, closing the deal.

So, I went home with no Nike sensor and yet another pair of shoes that I didn't need, for the sensor that I didn't have, that wouldn't have fit in these specific shoes even if I HAD purchased the sensor. Ya dig? I now proudly display my new waves next to the new Asics that I just purchased a few weeks ago. They are all shiny and awesome, and are begging me to take them for a run. I might do that later, after my nap.

So Sheri, I say this to you.. I fully intend on meeting our goal. However, I will have to keep up with my mileage the old school way. Pen and paper. I don't even have the right Ipod for the damn sensor to work anyway. Oh, and by the way, Brent thanks you. I'm about to have to move part of my shoe collection to his side of the closet.

So who wants to be my sponsor?

Humor-Blogs.com

Schooling my mother on sexual innuendo one post at a time

My mom has been trying to get in touch with me via telephone, SEVERAL times over the past couple of weeks. Unfortunately, I have this weird aversion to the phone from time to time, and that causes me to just simply not answer the damn thing. I also know that when I talk to my mom on the phone I better have at least an hour or two carved out, because she can get rather long winded, if you know what I mean. (I LOVE YOU THOUGH!)Well, I figured that I should probably call her back before I get totally written out of the will, so that's what I did today.

Mom- "Well, well, well. I guess you finally felt guilty about not calling your old parents, huh? We could be dying over here and you'd never know."

Me- "I'm pretty sure I'd know if you were dying. People on their death bed don't call 50 times a day for 2 weeks."

Mom- "Well, I noticed that you've been keeping up with your blog, so you clearly aren't that busy."

note to self. My mother is a fucking stalker

Me- "You know how I am with the phone. So what's up? Apparently you've been reading my blog?"

Mom- "I have. Girl, I can't believe some of the things that you write about. By the way, I have a question for you. What does "pearl necklace" mean, other than the obvious?"

Son of a bitch

Me- "Ah, I take it that you also read the comment section of my anniversary post?" THANKS PEG!

Mom- "So what does it mean?"

Me- "You're like 100 years old. You can't tell me that you don't know what the hell a pearl necklace (other than the obvious) means.

Mom- "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Me- fine "I think you should just google it, but what the hell... It's when a man ejaculates on a woman. Think neck and chest area here. Oh. my. God. I can't believe I just said that Are you picturing the pearl necklace now?"

Mom- "Well I'll be damned! And to think that I just ordered myself a pearl bracelet last week..."

Me- "Yeah, not nearly as exciting is it? Do you like pearl necklaces?"

Mom- "CANDICE!!"

I guess this just goes to show that there isn't much that I won't talk about with dear old Mom. It's not that I WANTED to have that particular conversation with her, but you know, I'm all about furthering one's education.

Humor-Blogs.com

American Idol - What the judges (and Candice ) WISH they could've said

Randy- Yo man, I don't know dawg. You sang Sara Bareilles, B? Fo real? Yooooo. Leave the white girl song to the white girls.

Paula- takes a sip of some potent beverage from her Coke cup Well Jathmine, I think you did juss a great job! Therothly, keep up tha work that yur doin gud.

Simon- looks at Paula sideways and crosses his arms so that you can't see his manly nipples through his see through V-neck shirt. pathetic. Just pathetic.

Kara- Looks at Simon and smiles n a flirty way Yeah, I thought you were just "okay", but I know you can do better than that.

Candice- Go fuck yourself Kara, and quit looking at my man before I stick my stilletto through your eye hole!



Simon- Matt, you picked a decent song by Coldplay, but you sounded like a complete fuck up doing so. By the way, Justin Timberlake called and he wants his look back.

Randy- Yeah dawg, Justin Timberlake called.... I can't think of anything else to say so I'll totally just repeat what my homie, Simon said.

Candice- Randy, you are the biggest ignant fuck ever. Yes, I said IGNANT! However, your skin complection reminds me of dark chocolate, and I SO want to take a bite out of your head right now. I know, I need help. I'm going through tagalong withdrawal.

Randy- Yooooooooooo

Kara- Matt, I so wanted to like, dig you man. I get your vibe, but that song didn't work for me.

Paula- Looks around all confused Did you sing yet, Matt?



Kara- Jeanine, I'm so totally confused on why you chose that song. Like, I don't get it. What is going on tonight?

Paula- Swwwwwwwwing loooooooooooooow. Swwwweeeeeeeeet Chaaaaaariot...... Comin forf to carry meeeeeeeeee hooooome.

Randy- Yeah, uh, the song didn't really do it for me, yo. The legs though? They be bangin.

Simon- That was horribly atrocious, and I'm not talking about the singing either. I'm talking about the low rate hand job Paula just gave me under the table.

Candice- Let's talk about the real issue here. Did you duct tape your penis in place so that it wouldn't fall out of your booty shorts? I mean, seriously, you don't expect us to really believe that you are a woman, do you? By the way, I think a Rupaul song choice would have been a much better fit for you.


Candice- Nicky boy, what in the hell are you doing here? Honestly, who's knob did you slob to land a spot on THIS show. Aren't there other reality TV shows that you could have tried out for that didn't focus on singing? I mean, you are an okay singer, but you certainly aren't taking this seriously, and quite frankly I'm tired of watching you mock this show. Fuck off. By the way, are you a catcher or a pitcher?

Simon- Candice, I bloody love you and would fancy a shag right at this very moment.

Randy- Yo, a shag. Yeah dawg.

Kara- rolls eyes at Candice out of pure jealousy

Paula- I need a handi wipe and I don't know why...

Randy- Bozo's in the house baby! I be feelin' you, yo! That was off the chizzy fo shizzy!

Paula- Now THAT iss what I'm talking about. You could sing a telephone book with a turkey baster, honey. hiccup Oh, and I hiccup LOVE the hair.

Kara- Paula, you're at about a 9 right now, and we all need you at about a 2.

Candice- Randy, what other Ebonics can I use that scream "this chic is THE BALLS"?

Simon- You've got a nice voice, but you're a bit weird aren't you? You better keep away from Paula's stash.

Randy- You suck, dude.

Paula- I have to agree with Mr T.

Kara- (Nah, who gives a shit what this bitch has to say)

Simon- Forgettable. What's your name again?

Candice- You just totally sang Man in the Mirror. You. are. a. tool!

Paula- tosses back Coke cup and finishes its contents BUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP!

Randy- Damn dawg, that was gansta!

Kara- (currently has duct tape over her big ass mouth. She can't comment on jack nor shit at this time.)

Simon- Frankly, I think you have a decent voice, but more importantly that full sleeve tat of yours is making me want to do naughty things to your girly bits.

Candice- Simon, take your Valtrex and keep that shit in your pants why dontcha.

Simon- You're going home, Matt. That was bloody awful.

Candice- Yeah dude, you sang one of my favorite songs, but I couldn't even pay attention to your singing. Your glistening bald head totally took all of my concentration (which isn't much, I admit), and that was unfortunate. Let's get this out in the open and talk about this apparent sweating issue that you've got going on. Seriously, you need a fucking Shamwow to soak up all the sweat that your chrome dome is oozing out. Do us all a favor and dehydrate yourself before the next show. That's just gross!

Randy- Dude is loosin the H2izzy for shizzy.

Paula- Oh Randy, shut the fuck up already.

Simon- Look Mr. clean, I like you, but you're going home. Look at you. You're sweating like a bloody wooly mammoth. It's disgusting.

Kara- mmmm, mmm , mmmm mm , mm!

Randy- Jesse, yo. I'm feeling what you're throwing down. That was the jump off right there!

Simon- Nice voice. Nice ass. Big mouth. I'd do you.

Paula- Yeahhhhh! He'd do you alright. He's hung like a god damned mosquito! Truss me. I knooow it.

Candice- You all embarrass me. backhands kara in the mouth By the way Randy, it's I'm PICKING up what you're throwing down, ya big douche nozzle...

Kara- MMMMM!

Candice- Kai, how about we talk about the fact that you are on national television and you decided that it would be a good idea to debut that rats nest of yours. Would it have been too much trouble to run a damn brush through that nap of yours? You are a fairly cute guy when you aren't looking like you should be on the corner begging for change.

Paula- Kai, she's a cold hearted snake. Don't listen to her.

Simon- Brilliant Paula. Brilliant!

Kara- ......

Randy- It was just aiight for me.

Randy- Your song choice, Drops of Jupiter, was WHACK!

Candice- No shit. What the hell were you thinking?

Simon- Nice voice. Decent ass. I'd do you as well.

Paula- I need another drink.

Kara- .......



Paula- Wow, get a load of the pipes on you! You can really blow!!

Candice- Yeah, he can blow alright. And he keeps the pipes clean by sucking on all of that co..

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Randy- Yo, that was intense. That was the jump off.

Simon- What in the bloody hell is a "jump off", Randy? Seriously, you are a complete bumbling idiot.

Kara- .....

Until next week.

Humor-Blogs.com

Guess what I'm getting?

Yes, my friends, that is my brand spankin' new titanium reinforced Hover Round. Go into Walmart on any given day and you will see about 22 lard asses down the snack aisle alone in these bad boys. I'm going to need this very soon after yesterday's events. Allow me to explain.

I heard the doorbell ring. The kids were inside the house with me at the time, so we all looked at each other in order to figure out what we would do next. You see, my kids are used to me running and hiding when someone knocks on the door. This all started when we lived in Richmond, Va. Random assholes would come to my door and either try to sell me cool stuff like vinyl siding and water filtration systems, or they would try to talk to me about my relationship with the LORDUH. So I figured out very quickly that I just wouldn't answer the door at all. Essentially every time the doorbell would ring or someone would knock on the door, me and the kids would all scatter like roaches so that we wouldn't be seen inside the house. It was a fun little game. Oh crap, someone is at the door. Run for your liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiives children!

Since we moved to Texas we are slightly more social because it's against the law to go door to door and sell stuff around these parts. BONUS! So anyway, the doorbell rang and to my dismay, one of my children went to answer it. I was told that our Girl Scout cookies had arrived and I needed to go and pay for them. "Our WHAT?" I asked? "We've got cookies. Daddy must have bought them." Taylor added.

That douche! Supporting the fucking Girl Scouts like that! What about my ass and thighs? Who is going to support them? I can't believe he is doing this to me! Son of a bitch! So, I fixed my hair and threw on some lip gloss, and then waltzed to the door with a gigantic smile on my face. Then I paid 14 bucks for 2 boxes of thin mints and 2 boxes of tagalongs. What a damn ripoff, I thought.

Mental note: Call Brent and tear him a new one for ordering this crap that I will end plowing through by the end of the day.

Okay, so it's been a little over 24 hours since we became proud owners of our 4 boxes of partially hydrogenated chocolate covered lumps of goodness. Now ask me how many boxes we have left?

ONE.

That's right. ONE. One box of fucking thin mints is all that remains, and I'm stuffing my face with them as I type. I'm SO going to need a hover round to transport my fat ass around.

I will say that we all polished off the first box of Thin Mints together as a family. Aww, isn't that sweet? We kill ourselves and clog our arteries in unison. How awesome! Then as I was leaving to go on my midnight walk/run, I noticed that Brent had devoured one whole box of tagalongs by himself, as evidenced by the empty box sitting on the kitchen counter. Throw your trash away jackass! When I pointed out what a fat bastard he was (get in my belly!), he made sure that I knew there were only 15 cookies in the box. As if that made his argument more plausible. I did my superior dance, and took off to go and better my health and physical fitness by spending about an hour and a half walking/running. After my walk/run I was slightly hungry upon my return home, and as I walked through the door I heard all of those little Girl Scouts calling my name. Caaaaaaaaaaandice!!!!!! Come heeeeeeeeere. Peanut butter and chocolate up in this bitch, and it's all for yooooooooooou. Then I saw the images in my mind.

Hmm, maybe I should get just one before Brent decides to inhale this box as well. Okay you little bitches. I'll have just one! One cookie.. That's right, just one. Here we go. Oh God. Oh dear God, this is good. Almost orgasmic.. almost. Maybe I'll have two or several more.. Before I knew it the whole. box. was. gone.

sigh...

But there were ONLY 15 cookies in that box!

Okay, I need to not feel so alone. What do you refuse to keep in your house for the fear that you will eat it all and not be able to fit through the door? Fess up!

Humor-Blogs.com

10 yrs and all I get is a coke can and some fing tuna?

Brent and I were having a discussion the other day about our upcoming anniversary on the 27th of this month. I emphasized the 27th because I'm fairly certain that we've celebrated it on the 28th for the last few years. You see, every year we typically have to bust out the marriage certificate because I seem to think that our big day happened on the 28th and he thinks that it's on the 27th. Well, I've apparently screwed him up so bad mentally speaking that he's started thinking that it's on the 28th. We evidently picked a really mundane day to get married since we both have a hard time remembering the damn date. Or we're both suffering from early onset Alzheimer's. My bet is on the latter. Especially where I'm concerned.

Anyway, since we will be celebrating our anniversary soon, I inquired as to what you typically get someone for suffering through 10 solid years of togetherness. Brent was unsure as we never really follow those traditional lists anyway, but today I recieved and email from Brent giving me a clue as to what I'm in for. Drum roll please........

1st Paper
2nd Cotton
3rd Leather Crystal or Glass
4th Fruit or Flowers Appliances
5th Wood Silverware
6th Candy or Iron Wood
7th Wool or Copper
8th Bronze or Pottery Linen or Lace
9th Pottery or Willow Leather
10th Tin or Aluminum <----------------------------- WTF??? Oh hell no!

11th Steel Fashion Jewelry

12th Silk or Linens Pearls

13th Lace Textiles
14th Ivory Gold Jewelry
15th Crystal
20th China Platinum
25th Silver Silver
30th Pearls
35th Coral Jade
40th Rubies
45th Sapphires
50th Gold
55th Emeralds
60th Diamonds

TIN?? Aluminum??? Who is the asshole that came up with this stuff? Someone with some pretty low standards, that's who. I would also bet money that it was a man, based on the craptastic nature of this list. Now I see why we don't follow traditional lists and such. According to this tally of insignificant shitty "gifts", I would have to wait until I've survived 14 years to get some jewelry, and it would be gold jewelry at that! That doesn't even include any bling bling. But wait! If I make it to 30 years, I may end up getting that pearl necklace that I've always wanted. Well hell, I guess I can wait it out 20 more years for that.

The asshat that came up with this brilliant list of gifts also adds insult to injury by leaving the really good shit for the 55th and 60th anniversary's. I'm sorry, but by the time I celebrate my 60th anniversary, I'll most likely be happily shitting and pissing myself, and having deep conversations with the wall in a nursing home somewhere. I seriously doubt I will give two fucks about diamonds and emeralds at that point. Not to mention, Brent will probably be dead anyway seeing that women tend to outlive men, and he's practically old enough to be my father anyway. See? Further proof that a dude came up with this list. He knew that he'd either be divorced or dead by the time the really expensive anniversaries came around.

So anyway, I've warned Brent that if he comes home with this

or this







Then I will totally be bustin' a cap in his ass with one of these...





Don't worry, it's a vintage TIN gun so the tradition will remain intact. Unfortunately, his ass will not.

Humor-Blogs.com

Shock and awe

Let me just start out by saying that having anal sex, whores, and homosexuals in your post title will get you a FUCKLOAD of hits to your website. Just FYI. I do apologize for not following through on the material. I'll leave that for another day. Promise. fingers crossed

Now then, on with today's topic. Shock and awe. What the hell does that even mean? Well, it's what has happened to me for the first time in my marriage. I mean, sure, I've been surprised and what not, but SHOCKED? Not so much. Brent is a fairly even keel and predictable fellow (in a good way) for all intents and purposes. So imagine my surprise when he comes home after being out of town for the week and shocks me with a new wardrobe!!

Okay, I'm not talking about a new wardrobe for ME. It was HIS!! HE went shopping. ON HIS OWN. Seriously, I almost shit my pants. First of all, he tapped me on my shoulder when he got home and I was wondering who the hell just broke into our house. Then I began to not give a shit, because the intruder in question was sort of HOT. Who in the hell is this dude in trendy jeans, nice crisp long sleeve shirt, and a kick ass black fitted blazer? Wait a second.... Fucking Italian leather shoes???? Are you shitting me?!

Now let me give you a little background. My husband hates to shop. He's had some of the same things hanging in his closet that he had when I met him. We've been married for 10 yrs if that gives you any idea. That should be a damn crime, people! I've had to get rid of his wardrobe on my own by doing things like this and this. I did that for my own good because I refuse to be seen in public with someone looking like god damned ass-clown. I also had to go out on my own and buy him things because it was evident that he wasn't going to do it on his own. The result? I bought jeans that "cut the circulation off to his nuts". Okay, now is the circulation to his balls really that important in the grand scheme of things? I didn't think so either. So he wore those low rise jeans and bitched about them every time! He really had no choice anyway, since his "vintage" jeans had the ass and balls cut out of them anyway, and he was too lazy to go out and buy new shit.

Well, apparently as Brent was getting out of his seat on the plane in Richmond, he damn near tore his nut sac off. Those are his words, not mine. All of this was due to the low rise jeans that I purchased for him. He said he knew then that a shopping trip was going to be in order, so he went to the mall! To several high end stores even. In these tough economic times?!? This is simply unheard of. Apparently I should have almost severed his balls a long time ago. Oh and by the way, all 20 pair of my jeans hurt my vagina when I wear them. So yeah, I need to go shopping too. Anyway, he never told me about his shopping outings during our many conversations during the week. His plan was to keep it all on the down low so he could come home and try to kill me with the shock. It almost worked too. Here is how our conversation went when he got home.

Me- "OH. MY. GOD!! What the hell??!?!?!"

Brent- "Surprise! My balls almost got chopped off on the plane because of those damn low rise jeans you got me. They are in the trash back in Richmond, by the way. So what do you think?""

Me- drooling...

Brent- "Hello?"

Me- "You went shopping?!? Did you find a personal shopper or something? How did YOU come up with that hot outfit?"

Brent- "I picked it out myself. I'm fully qualified to go shopping you know... "

Me- "Oh snap! You got new shoes too?!?!"

Brent- "Yep. I left my other shoes in Richmond, too. They are in the trash with the nut hugger jeans."

Me- silently giving thanks for this huge miracle "I'm so excited. Now I can take you out in public. We can go shopping together and everything!!"

Brent- "Let's not get hasty."

Oh, and since you are thinking it, I did ask Brent if he was getting some strange on the side. You know, isn't that what men do when they start boning someone else? They begin buying new things, etc? Well, apparently his near miss with his nuts had a huge impact on what he was willing to do wardrobe wise.

Move over Jeffrey D. You've got competition, baby!

Humor-Blogs.com

Anal sex - It's not just for whores and homosexuals anymore

Okay, now that I have your undivided attention I want to talk about something and it doesn't have a damn thing to do with taking it up the ass. What do I want to talk about? These tough economic times. That's right people, that is the excuse for EVERYTHING these days. I hear it at least 10 times a day now. So I figured if you can't fucking beat 'em, join 'em! I'm urging you to do the same thing assuming you already haven't. Allow me to give you some examples of how you too can use this lame ass excuse and get away with it.

Does you job suck and you want to quit? You better be glad you still have a fucking job you jackoff! Why is that? Tough economic times, fool! That's what.

Pissed because you just paid 600 bucks for a flight and didn't even get offered a snack? Were you practically wasting away mid-flight because you were starving, and suddenly you began to hear Sally Struthers in the background "for only 10 cents a day..." Well tough shit. We've got some tough economic times going on. Deal with it.

Tired of cooking dinner every night? Now you don't have to. Know why? Tough economic times.

Sorry kids. Can't go outside and play with you today in these tough economic times.

Uh, about that sexual activity and the blow jobs? Yeah, so not going to happen for a while. I don't know if you've heard this or not, but we're having some tough economic times, so that kind of activity will be ceasing to exist from here on out. I will, however, accept some bailout money.

I'm tired of cleaning the house so I started paying Lupe and her sisters to come and do it for me. I'm looking out for the interest of others in these trying economic times.

I realize that you don't have clean underwear at this time. Yes, it is due to the fact that I haven't done laundry in two weeks. I get that. However, washing laundry takes water and supplies. Those things are hard to come by in these tough economic times. You now need to adopt the inside out method of wearing underwear, OR you can always free ball it. The choice is yours. Just be careful not to get the frank above the beans, because we can't afford and ER bill to get your junk extracted from your zipper in these tough economic times.

Say something stupid or do something you regret? It's okay. Tough economic times cause us to do all sorts of things that we wouldn't ordinarily do.

Did someone important call about your husband's job and you failed to take a message or even remember who they were and why they were calling? Did you manage to remember to tell your husband that "a lady called for you.. She was calling from some call center about something, but I don't remember what it was." ??? Yeah, well, in these trying economic times it's very difficult to remember anything other than your name and zip code. No, lets just stick with your name. Zip codes can also be difficult to remember even before the tough economic times thing came on scene. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, forgetfulness can also be attributed to tough economic times. Use it!

Sorry I couldn't think of anything worth a shit to blog about today. Tough economic times!!

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Never underestimate the power of a 9 yr olds turd

I knew I was in trouble when it took Taylor approximately 7 hours to emerge from the bathroom. Then I got hit with this lovely bit of information.

Taylor- "Uh, you might want to come and take a look at this."

Me- "What did you do?" I asked in an annoyed tone

Taylor- "Well, the toilet is, well, sort of stopped up and it's overflowing. Well, it's not REALLY overflowing, but it's about to..."

Me- "JESUS!"

So I hopped out of bed with the speed of a gazelle being chased down by a hungry lion, in preparation to save the day before I found myself having to hurdle shit logs. Actually, that's a lie. I rolled out of bed, twisted my ankle, and almost fell on my face because I'm graceful like that. After sputtering a few curse words, and then telling Taylor that I never wanted her to EVER repeat what I just said, I was knocked in the face with an odor that I never thought could come from the innards of any child of mine. A 500 lb, greasy, nasty, foul, middle aged man who had just spent the last year eating chili for every meal? Yes. My dear sweet child? Hell no!

Me- "Oh. My. God. Taylor! I said while grabbing the nearest towel to place over my face. What have you done?!?!"

Taylor- "I used the bathroom. What's the big deal?"

Me- "No! You crapped an oak tree, baby. Seriously. Look! I'm going to have to get a chainsaw to break that in a few pieces just so that it will be flushable. What have they been feeding you at school?"

Taylor- "Just the regular stuff."

Me- "Well, you need to lay off the fiber! Are you okay? I mean, did that hurt? Bend over so I can take a look and make sure you aren't bleeding out, or split in two."

Taylor- Looks at me like I'm crazy and then begins to back out of the bathroom slowly....

So I was able to plunge the shit (literally) out of the toilet, and get it to flush properly before I found the contents of her telephone pole sized turd on the bathroom tile. I did this while the overhead fan was working overtime to try and suck up the disgusting odor. It wasn't quite making it, so I tied a bath towel around my head. Yeah, towel head. Go ahead and say it. I don't give a damn! Then I figured after my work was done I had to hop in the shower and decontaminate myself. I had to do all of this "shit work" because the hubs is currently in another state. I would have saved it for him to do when he got home, but I'm afraid we would have all died from the stench.

My new and improved plan is to stop feeding my child all together, because that was just FOUL!

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I have a sneaking suspicion that I will be BANNED from Target

I was called into the office of my husband the other day. I knew that business talk was on the agenda since he was busy doing the bills. Calm and casual as usual, he asked me what had been going on at Target for the past 2 weeks since I evidently had spent a significant amount of money there. I was really unaware since I have this bad habit of not even paying attention to how much I spend anywhere. It's something that I plan on changing one of these years. Anyway, I decided to delve further into the topic at hand.

Me- "Nothing has been going on there. Just tired of going to Walmart. How much did I spend exactly?"

Brent- "Enough to make me consider selling one of my kidney's to cover the cost. Allow me to consult...... Ah yes, approximately $xxxx.xxx in the past TWO weeks."

Me- "Oh bullshit! You got some fuzzy math going on right there!"

Brent- "I'm not kidding.. Come take a look."

Me- whoops! "But I needed stuff."

So I took a look and he was right as usual. I told him I would quit going to Target and would resume my shopping trips to Walmart. You see, I get so pissed off in Walmart that I can only withhold my anger and rage for so long before I feel the need to commit murder there, so I seriously get what is on my list, and I do NOT stray from the list. This technique is called the "keep your ass off the evening news" technique.

Apparently I do not follow the same technique at Target. I guess it's because the average IQ is above freezing there, so I don't feel the need to get out before the stupid rubs off. I'd also like to think it's because there are NO clinically obese people plugging up the aisles on their fatassmobiles at Target. This also keeps my level of annoyance at an all time low. It's great. Well, for me, but apparently not for the bank account.

So where did I go today? Back to Target. (SORRY BRENT!!) I had a list though, and I had planned on sticking to it. I really did. Here is what was on my list.

shoes for Taylor
shoes for Aidan
bath fizzies (for the kids. My idea of them just farting repeatedly in the tub didn't seem to go over well)
scooter- for Taylor
Lego's- for Aidan
Milk
mascara (I wonder if that new stiletto kind is good? Probably not, but I'm willing so spend 10 bucks to find out)
cereal

I ended up doing really well. I got everything on the list except bath fizzies, and the scooter. Uh, I did end up getting some additional items, however.

4 lbs of ground meat
2 bags of chicken tenders
baked doritos
baked lays
a box of cheezit duos (Taylor's idea)
tuna helper
hamburger helper
5 bottles of Arriba salsa (try this shit if you haven't. DE-FREAKING-LICIOUS!!
flatbread
cereal (tired of feeding my kids dick cereal. Missed that post? click here)
bananas (Taylor's idea again. Not my fault)
2 packs of jello (they have a new sugar free dark chocolate raspberry flavor!! It was a necessary purchase!)
deodorant (another necessary purchase! Don't like it? I gives a shit!)

WARNING---- COMPLETE BULLSHIT TO FOLLOW

Okay, so when we went down the ice cream aisle (FUCK! I knew that was a bad idea!) I decided that the KIDS needed a treat for being such good angels in the store. I told them to pick a flavor of Ben and Jerry's that they liked, so they did. Then I decided that they might like an additional 3 flavors for a rainy day. I did it all for the KIDS. I mean, that's how I roll as a mother. I enjoy getting things that the KIDS enjoy eating. You know, Phish food, cookie dough, and cho-cho-chocolate fuuuuudge brownie. I can't almost taste that shit now. I mean, I bet the KIDS can almost taste it now. Yeah, it's allll about the KIDS. Oh, and I also got a box of Skinny Cow ice cream truffle bars because I figured the KIDS would like to try something new. HAY- SEUS.. I just added all of that up, and it appears that I spent over 20 bucks on ice cream for the KIDS. See Brent, kids really are expensive.

Anyway, we finally made it to the register and not a moment too soon. Aidan was complaining about how his legs were going to fall off if he had to take one more step. Taylor was hanging her lip because she couldn't manage to find anything to spend her $20 bucks on, and I felt like I was going to pass out because I was hungry. I contemplated cracking open one of the KIDS' Ben and Jerry's ice cream pints and just scooping that shit into my mouth with my fingers, but I decided against it.

It became evident very quickly that I had, once again, picked the slowest fucktard in cashier land. Thank God that we were in an aisle that had an abundant variety of candy to choose from, because I told the kids to pick something and crack it open. After waiting in line long enough to become completely demented, we then celebrated Taylor's 50th birthday, and Aidan finally grew out of his Lego's obsession and then completely stopped talking. It was amazing. The part about Aidan becoming silent, that is.

So I guess the moral of my story is that I totally strayed from my list (AGAIN), and I know this because the receipt was as long as my arm. Now Brent is going to have to sell a Kidney on the black market. DAMN YOU TARGET. DAMN YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL!!!

Please, someone tell me that I'm not alone. Where should YOU be banned from?

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Okay men, listen up.

I think I get it. I really do. You boys just get so excited over all things technologically intriguing. It's cool! It's amazing! It's off the chizzy fo shizzy! Except, for those of us with tits and a vulva, then it's more like "who gives a shit?". Seriously, that's exactly how it is, and I really don't mind speaking for all of the women folk out there.

Now I don't know if you've picked up from my posts about my husband thus far, but I'm married to a total geek. A Neo-Maxi-Zoom-Dweebie, if you will. He will randomly come home with electronic shit, place it in front of me, and then expect me to either jump for joy or hump his leg. It all can change depending on his mood. Frankly, I'm happy with anything that requires 2 to 4 AA batteries and vibrates at a very high velocity. So when you put a box in front of me that doesn't have those 2 very important requirements, I frankly don't give a rats ass about it. So please don't expect me to become excited about a wireless contraption that you just purchased for 1.2 million dollars that you will hook to our TV that will allow you to access our DVR movies from *GASP* your laptop in a remote location. Honestly? Whoo-freaking-hoo! No seriously, feel my excitement. For real, all of this excitement? All of it is for you.

Prior to his latest tent pitching extravaganza, he was all on point about switching over from Dish to AT&T Uverse. Yeah, well I elaborated a bit on that here. It was going to be a smashing success. Our internet service would be BLAZING, and we would be able to record more than 2 shows at a time. All fine and good except for the fact that I've seen no improvement in our internet connection, and my recorded shows will temporarily go batshit crazy for no reason at all, causing Brent to walk upstairs to restart something at the "hub". Who the hell has a "hub" in their house anyway? That's not even a big deal though. The MAJOR issue that I have is that I can't pause Jeffrey Donovan when he's in a sexy pose on the TV in my bedroom. You can imagine the issues that this causes. Now I COULD pause live TV in my room when we had DISH. I pointed this out, and was told that it's an issue that will be fixed when they, as in AT&T, upgrades, but who knows when that will be. Any day now. Thank God I wasn't home watching the Super Bowl on the TV in my bedroom. Had I not been able to replay Bruce Springsteen ramming his nuts into the television camera, I would have been LIVID!

Anyway, our latest new piece of technology was introduced to me a couple of days ago. Brent comes home from work, lugs a big box in front of me and says "Happy Valentines!"

Me- "Uh, what's this?"

Brent- "It's your new wireless sound system for your Ipod."'

Me- "What's wrong with the Bose that I've got?"

Brent- "It's not wireless, primarily. You see, with the new sound system, you can remove these handy speakers and take them with you anywhere in the house. This will hopefully keep you from blaring your shitty music, and keep the rest of us in the house from having to hear it."

Me- thinking Jesus... Who the fuck are you, Billy Mays?

Me- "Are you crazy? Do you know what you've just done? Now I've got free range shitty music that I can blare throughout the house. I thought you were smart, but now, I'm thinking not so much."

Brent- "Yeah well..."

Me-"But thanks though!"

The idea behind have speakers will travel is a nice touch, but it turns out the Ipod has to dock on the damn thing JUST right on it for it to work. So it's going back. Or maybe the Ipod is going back because the connection is hosed. Brent says I'm where electronics go do die. I'm beginning to see his point. Want to see my rebuttal? Please focus your attention on the video below.





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I have a secret

This secret has been weighing heavily on my mind and heart. I've actually been trying to decide if I should just open myself up to the scrutiny and possible backlash of releasing my abstruse past and present into the world. Do I really want that? Is it worth it? Will people see me differently now? Will shedding light on my situation release any of my guilt and subsequent pain that I've endured, simply from hiding a part of myself for so long?

I've decided that regardless of the repercussions, I need to be set free from this burden. So here you go. . .

Wait for it.....

Waaaaaaait for it....

Seriously, chill out!

Okay fine. I do ballet. In the nude.. With Jeffrey Donovan. And I like it. From what I gather, so does he. No, he LOVES it. The toe pointing, the deep plies, the sheer flexibility? It's all simply off the chain, folks. Seriously, who else says off the chain while talking about Ballet? Yet, that's how I do it. I bring the unpredictability and smack you in your ass with it. Fo real. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, would you like to know my favorite part? Every class Jeffrey brings his big barre to our rehearsals so that I can work on my balance. Or something like that. sigh..

Please don't judge me.

Image brought to you by my buddy at Sometimes Sophia. Thanks for making my dream come true and giving me perky boobs again. JD approves! Bonus! ;)

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Reason #297 as to why I dislike watching TV with my husband

There I was, all prepared to try to embrace my new President and listen to him intently as he addressed our great country tonight. I figured that I may learn a thing or two (highly unlikely) during this little conference. Well, turns out that I did learn something. Obama sounds like a bumbling idiot when he has no teleprompter to read from, and he's yanking answers from his ass. Granted, he is not at Bush level just yet, but shitty nevertheless.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Brent. Well, I could only handle his constant narrative comments during Obama's speech for only so long before I threatened to cut his throat. It went a little something like this.

Obama-- blah blah blah... uh, uh, blah blah.

Brent- "Oh that is a crock of SHIT and you know it!"

Obama- "And I tell you this because blah blah blah

Brent- "LIES! ALL LIES!"

Candice- "Do you mind?"

Brent- "Oh, were you listening to this jackass?"

Candice - "Well I was watching it, wasn't I?"

Obama- "blah blah blah.. uh, stimulus blah blah"

Brent- "Yeah, stimulus my ass. That's why we just wasted a Trillion on..."

Candice- "Okay, would you kindly shut the fuck up? Seriously, I asked nicely and everything."

At this point I turned on a recorded program because I didn't want Brent to stroke out. So we watched Super Nanny. What? I feel much better about myself when I watch this show. When it was over, Obama was still on...

Obama- " Uh, Uh, Uh, going forward, uh..."

Brent- "Oh Jesus Christ on a stick."

He walked off to tuck the kids in and I got to hear the last 3 minutes uninterrupted. He came back and tried to turn on 24 since it had started recording. The following ensued when he realized that Obama was encroaching into his 24 program.

Brent- "Uh, why in the hell is he still on? I don't need to watch a retard lie to me, I need to watch Jack Bauer kill some terrorists.

fast forwarding feverishly... Then the satellite reception screwed up.

Brent- "Great. Perfect timing.. Jam some coax up Obama's ass and we could get perfect reception off those ears."

Life is all good now. He's going for the movie theater approach, watching 24 WAY too damn loud. Perhaps I'll go and do some narrating of my own now. He always loves it when I do that.

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You suck okay, yet you still disgust me..

Allow me to explain. We HAD a totally functioning vacuum cleaner at one point not too long ago. Until I probably accidentally ended up sucking an article of clothing, or the bottom half of the draperies into it, and then the poor ol' Electrolux motor gave out. No worries, we have a 900 year warranty on that bad boy, problem is that would require us to drive 20 minutes down the road to the nearest Electrolux repair shop.

The issue is that I'm not going to do it, and apparently Brent isn't either because he's got too much going on. The end result? He went out and got a new piece of shit bagless upright vacuum for me to use until I get off my ass and take the other one to get repaired. Well thanks for nothing!

Seriously, why is everyone sporting wood over the bagless vacuums? I don't get it. I only have carpet in two rooms downstairs plus some area rugs, and I have to empty the canister before I'm even finished with the first floor. Oh, and this isn't fucking Sanford and Sons. I keep a fairly clean home all things considered, so lets not go there. The problem with ME having to empty the canister, you may ask? It's a hot mess! It's disgusting! And I don't like it. I'd prefer not to see what I'm sucking up if you really want to know the truth. I've also never had my gag reflex elicited when doing a household chore like vacuuming. But thanks to this bagless bastard, that's what has been happening.

Not only that, it's so messy. I have to vacuum up my mess from emptying the crap out of the canister! I've tried numerous different techniques. Same thing always happens. 1. Dust cloud similar to nuclear fallout, and 2. I spill enough of the contents on the floor that if someone didn't know any better, they would think that I had a little accident with Aunt Betsey's cremated remains.

In the Dyson commercials they make it look so easy. You see the dirt in the clean canister and they just toss it. Simple right? No. It's not that easy, trust me. They don't have a weeks worth of dead sloughed off skin cells (gag!), dirt, dust, cat hair, dog hair, human hair, Lego's, hair accessories, crunched up cereal and other particles of food, etc in the canister on the commercials. If they did, you would see what a pain it is to empty out these canisters, and it would look very similar to what it looks like around my house. A fucking Hiroshima cloud, and me running in the other room until the fallout settles, because I'll be damned if I inhale dead skin cells that have sloughed off my own ass. Much less the dead skin of 3 other human asses, 2 pussy (meow), and 1 canine. No thanks.

So if you are in the market for a vacuum cleaner, I don't recommend the bagless variety. I will still use it because I'll be damned if I end my stubborn streak and take the good vacuum to get fixed. If I give in now it will just go downhill from there in other areas, and I can't allow that to happen. I will just vacuum with a bandanna on my face and I'll look like a fucking crypt (edited to add that I have now been schooled that it's CRIP. Seriously?? I thought that was a handicapped individual.. Oh well) because I'm bad like that anyway. Seriously, If you aren't careful, I'll bust a cap in your ass. Or would that be YO ass?

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Yo Russ. You make me want to poke my fing eyes out!

So hubby brought the Caddy to the dealership today because it's been doing some weird shit. Prior to taking my ride in, I gave Brent the 411 on what was going on. It's pretty straightforward and all, so I figured he would be able to relay that information over to the gentleman in the service department. Well, apparently fucking NOT!

Let me just preface this by saying I worked all night and didn't get home until after 0600. I had to have some Froot Loops (no dick cereal for me, thank you) and watch some Real Housewives Of Orange County, so I really didn't get to sleep until 0730. So when I get tossed out of dreamland because some fool at the dealership service department needs further information, it sort of pisses me off! Men, I swear. Can't you assholes relay information and take it at face value like the rest of us? It's really not that complicated. I promise. So here is how our conversation went.

Me- "HERRRO?" (That's my sleepy version of hello. I really don't sound like a Japanese man)

Russ-" Uh, yes ma'am, is this Candice? (no it's yo mama) This is Russ from Crest Cadillac. Your husband brought your Escalade by this morning for service and I was wanting to get more (at this point I began to tune his long winded ass out. Seriously dude, get to the fucking point before I chew your ears off.) information as to what's going on with your vehicle."

Me- "Didn't my husband tell you what was going on with it?"

Russ- "Well, he did, but I wanted to get some clarification on a few things."

Me- "okay."

Russ- "So what's going on with the interior lights?"

Brent.. you asshole! How hard is it to paint this picture??

Me- "They flicker. Basically, I thought I was having a seizure when I got in my car the other night. Turns out my car is a piece, and all the interior lights flicker for some reason."

Russ- "Which lights flicker"

Me- "All of them. The overhead lights, the dashboard lights, and even the lights that are on the sun visor thingy. Ya know, it's very similar to the last time my car did this, except the GPS and radio aren't screwed up this time, and my car hasn't totally died and left me stranded on the side of the road causing me MUCH distress because I was on my way home from getting a facial and I had no make up on. Much like the time I ran out of gas, but anyway.."

Russ- "So let me get this straight, the lights randomly come on when you are driving?"

SIGH!!

Me- "No Russ, they don't come on at random while I'm driving. I notice the problem when I get in my car. You know, when you open the door and the interior lights come on? So basically, I notice it when it's dark. In other words, when it's not during the day."

Russ- "So they don't just come on while driving?"

At this point I was thinking "Brent is this you? You bastard, you are trying to get in on my prank calling gig? Nice try ya big ol dildo."

Me- "No. They DO NOT come on while driving. They only flicker like strobe lights when I get in my car and notice them flickering, which just so happens to be at night. I'm almost positive it happens during the day as well, I just can't see it because the interior lights don't come on during the day, and my dashboard isn't lit up during the day." Got that, Corky?

Russ- "Okay, I think that's enough information."

Me- "Please call my husband with any further questions. Hopefully he'll be able to be of assistance since he clearly was able to frame up the problem I was having with my car."

Russ- "Will do ma'am."

So I'm thinking after all was said and done, Brent dropped off my car and muttered "Lights. Jacked up." Somewhat like a caveman, and then left.


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Today's blog is brought to you by the letters WTF

So this morning I stumbled my way into the kitchen, and began deciding between the 84 different kinds of cereal that we have to enjoy for breakfast. Froot loops, shredded wheat, and honey oats with Almonds lost out to the lure of Lucky Charms. So as I sat there eating my cereal that didn't have a correct cereal to marshmallow ratio, I noticed something veeeery strange. It was at this point where I had to ask the question WTF?? Then I began questioning my overall decision making skills as a parent in general.

please note the penis shaped objects above

Should I be worried that I've been letting my kids eat Lucky Charms with penis shaped marshmallows in them? Okay, so I admit it. It's the knock off version of Lucky Charms. What? Don't hate. I can get a huge bag approximately the size of my torso, for what one measly box would cost. They even have a cool name. Marshmallow Mateys.

Then again, with a name like that, maybe I shouldn't be surprised that there are penis shaped marshmallows in it. I'm not totally sure I'll be able to feed this to my kids with a straight face anymore. The problem is that it's a new bag, and we've got a metric ass ton left of it. Maybe Brent will be interested in eating it.

Penis... It's what's for breakfast


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Trip to Virginia (part 1) Ya gotta get there first.

The alarm clock began beeping annoyingly at 0500 and I was not a happy camper. I started things off by cursing myself out for only getting 2 hours of sleep because I was too busy screwing off on the internet all night. I was told that I would regret not going to sleep earlier, and he was right. Asshole.

So I shower and go through the motions of getting ready. While I'm getting ready I'm simultaneously packing my bathroom bag that I will be taking with me. This is not a bag that I can pack prior to the trip because I've got to use half the shit that's going in said bag. Think makeup, hair products, lotion, massage oil, whips and chains, etc. So I was finally ready to go and Brent loaded up my luggage into my vehicle, and shed a tear as I was about to leave. Okay, so that last part wasn't true, but he did tell me goodbye (aka don't let the door hit me on the ass on the way out!)

Now this was my first time driving myself to DFW airport, so I was slightly nervous and I just knew that I was going to get lost (my sense of direction sucks ASS! Trust me) and miss my flight. Brent would have been my driver, but I had to leave before the kids went to school, so that wasn't going to work. I had pleaded with Brent to get me a limo or even a damn cab to take me, but he said I needed to grow a pair and drive myself, so that's what I did. Turns out I did very well and didn't even make one wrong turn! I found my way to remote North parking, parked my car, and lugged my shit to the bus in the frigid temperatures all by myself. Hmm, maybe I'm not helpless after all. I decided that I would call Brent to gloat. Okay, so I called Brent and had him memorize the aisle I parked my car in because there was no way in hell I would ever find it again if left to my own devices. I also had to figure out what I had to do next since I had actually found my way to the correct parking place. I was told that I had to go into the building and look up on the screen to find my flight number and take the specific bus that would get me to that specific terminal. What. The. Fuck?

"When I would fly out of Richmond the bus would just take me to the damn terminal. I didn't have to jump through hoops and do all of this extraneous shit!"

"Calm down, dear. DFW is also a real airport as opposed to the significantly smaller RIC airport."

So I looked at the damn TV screen and figured out what bus I had to take. Hmm, that was easy. I saw my bus pull up and I lugged my belongings to it. Mental note.. Asshole driver didn't help me stow away my shit. No tip for him! Then I texted Brent and told him that asshole driver was getting no freaking tip. I asked him what kind of ghetto ass parking place he sent me to with these lazy bastard drivers. The drivers in Richmond would pick me up at my car, take my luggage out of my trunk and then put it on the bus for me. What the hell kind of place was this?

So I grabbed my seat and watched other people file on to the bus and take their seats. Naturally a lady with a bad, no VERY bad sniffling problem sat right next to me. Now when I say that she had a sniffling problem, I mean that she was a fucking looney bitch that was OCD about making sniffling noises with her schnozz. This wasn't a "Oh I have a runny nose" sniffle. It was a "I'm going to sit here and sniffle like a fucking blood hound on a hot scent trail" sniffle. Even the people sitting across from us kept staring at her. It actually made me laugh so I had to pretend I was looking at funny email on my blackberry. You know, I get funny laugh out loud email often.

So I continued to look around the bus and I noticed the elderly African American man and his wife (?) sitting towards the front of the bus. A very nice couple, I'm sure. The one thing that caught my eye was the REALLY BAD toupee that dude was wearing. I thought black men were confident with their beautiful bald heads? Seriously, they paved the way for white men to embrace their receding hairlines and just do the damn thing.. bald! Anyway, back to the hideous rug. That shit was so obviously fake it looked like he had fucking Berber carpet on top of his head! Seriously, I bet his wife had to vacuum that shit to clean it. I wondered at that moment, if when he looked in the mirror, it enhanced his confidence at all. Then my thought process was rudely interrupted by the sniffling bitch next to me, and I had thoughts of back handing her in her nose to shut her up. Or at the very least give her something to sniffle about. A bloody nose will do that.

Finally we made it to the terminal and I got all checked in. I was pissed off when I had to pay 40 fucking dollars to check my luggage. I felt like bending over right there and just taking it in the ass in front of everyone, because that was what had just happened. Except I didn't enjoy it one bit. So I called Brent and bitched about having to pay 80 bucks round trip for bringing shit that used to not cost one penny extra. Then I was told that I should have packed lighter like he does when he goes on business trips. Whatever. I'll keep that in mind.

After pissing off the TSA agent for leaving my boarding pass in my purse as it was going through the x-ray machine, I was finally able to hang out and wait to board my flight. Luckily we left right on time. My seat was at the ass end of the plane. Right by the shitter. Oh, and it was a window seat. I despise sitting next to the window. It freaks me out. I texted Brent once again to thank him for my fabulous seating arrangements since he bought the ticket, but I was told that this time out he didn't pick my seat, so it wasn't his fault. So I changed paths and just bitched about my shitty seating arrangement instead. He is a great sounding board. Anyway, it ended up being okay because I had 3 whole seats to myself, and I didn't have to sit by the window after all.


The flight must have been pretty good, but I don't know for sure because I slept the whole way. First time ever! I usually always stay awake because I figure if shit goes down, then I need to be alert and oriented. This time I was only working on 2 hrs of sleep, so I had to do what I had to do. I was aroused from my slumber by the pilot that thought it was a good idea to YELL through the intercom to warn us that we were about 30 minutes from our destination. Hell yeah!! I took my purse out to reapply my lip gloss so that I don't look like a corpse as I'm walking through the airport terminal, and it was at that moment when the panic set in. WHERE IN THE FUCK IS MY MAKEUP BAG!!!??? Oh. My. GOD!! I left it at home! I must have left it on the bathroom counter! And if I left that particular travel makeup bag, then I surely left the other 2 that have the rest of my makeup in them! What am I going to do?!?! I immediately threw open the window shade to see how high up in the air we were.

"Oh shit! I bet I can get a signal off my cell phone from up here. I can just text Brent really nonchalantly to ask him if I left my makeup at home. Not like I can do anything about it now anyway, but at least I can feak out for a valid reason. Not to mention, what the hell is one cell phone going to do to the electrical system of this plane anyway?"

So yes, in the midst of my panic attack I turned my phone on, and about 1 minute later the airplane began shaking all over the damn place. Turbulence? Yes, that's exactly what it was.. So I continue on with my mission. At this point the plane was still a rockin'. It was so bad I began to rethink my undergarment at this time. Perhaps a sports bra would have been a better choice, because now I'm risking either a black eye or brain damage. Then I began to freak out thinking it was my cell phone that was causing all of the turbulence issues. Hell you never know. So I turned the damn thing off and figured I would call him as soon as I could to figure out if I had, in fact, left all of my makeup at home.

Long story longer, turns out that I did. I'm a fucking idiot. I left it ALL at home. Brent made the comment that it would cost more to overnight my makeup bag to me in Richmond, so I might as well go to CVS and pick up all new stuff.

Have you ever had one of those moments when someone says something to you, and then like 5 minutes later it registers, and you are like WHAT!?!?! Well, that's exactly what happened. CV fucking S Brent? When do I buy makeup at CVS? So I reminded him that I use Prescriptives makeup and that will require a mall trip so that I can have my specially formulated makeup that matches my skin color. I think to myself that it would be WAY cheaper for him to overnight the bag, but I decided to keep that bit of info on the down low and just let him figure that out on his own.

So I made it to my destination.. without my makeup, but I'm about to have some FUN so it's all good.

part 2 tomorrow.

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Would you like some nuts with that camera?

Before I drift off to dream land, I wanted to share my absolute FAVORITE moment of the Superbowl. Yes, I managed to watch a little bit of it before my ADD kicked in and I decided to go and pickle my liver in favor of watching men in tights tackle one another.



Oh. My. God. I really think I came one Kegel short of pissing myself when Bruce Springsteen smooshed his nuts against the camera lens during his pathetic little slide move. Look at the pain and agony on his face after the impact. You know he wanted to curl up in the fetal position while calling for his mommy, but he got up like a trooper and waddled off stage. Probably because his nuts had already increased to 5 times their normal size.

So thank you, Boss, for totally making a damn football game worth watching. Tool..

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I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack

Okay, so I've got many things to post about, but it's most certainly not going to happen tonight since I'm working on less than 8 hours of sleep for the entire time that I've been gone. I'm not joking. . .

So what did I do during my stay in Virginia, you ask? Well, many things, but my most memorable moment was when I decided to kick Aretha Franklin's ass for her big ass bow hat. Yes, I've had a slight change of heart about the hat because I found out that it was not bedazzled after all. Turns out that mutha is lined in Swarovski crystals! I figured I could SO beat that ass for her head gear. Luckily I didn't have to do bodily harm as she was easily lured away from her hat with a box of dunkin donuts.

Sorry Aretha. You looked like a complete ass-clown in the hat anyway.

Special thanks to Lesley at have a good day Charlie for her mad photoshopping skills. Oh, and I love the yamama brooch by the way.. Yes, I noticed. ;)

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