For the love of Spring!

It's already feeling like Spring here in Virginia, and it's a beautiful thing. The feeling is taking over as sunlight lifts me from my foggy winter gloom. I've been sticking to my car's leather interior more and more, and I have an excuse to hide my permanent facial squint with a pair of sunglasses.

Signs of life abound. The neighborhood squirrels appear rested, and are up to their usual antics. The dog stinks even when he isn't wet. Birds build their filthy nests and attack passersby. Spiders return from hibernation to exact their revenge. And the Easter Bunny will hop into your room to lay some non-dairy chocolate colored eggs.

The Dogwood trees reveal their tender blossoms. Meter maids have an extra bounce in their step as they screw you out of $40. As if by instinct, migrant workers fly by overhead in that classic "V" shape formation. And folks enjoy early sightings of unfit slobs in cut-off jeans, with their adorable 2-foot long arm pit stains.

The smell of renewal and leftover decay is thick in the air. No more tripping over frozen dog poop on the way to the car. Now you can step in nice warm dog poop with your bare feet! And the noisy vibrations of bass-heavy rap blast obnoxiously from every piece-of-shit Richmond vehicle.

This is the time to plan for upcoming Summertime fun. The kids and I will take our usual trip to the Band-aid encrusted shores of Virginia Beach. On the way home I'll drown out their sunburn complaints by turning up the Tom Petty and lighting a fat spliff. At night our cares will melt away as we're lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the bug zapper.

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Blame the teachers!

I'm just a typical parent. I work all day, and I send my children to public school. They call it a free education, but it's not. I'm always being asked to shell out money for lunches, field trips, you name it. It also takes a good amount of effort to get them out the door on time for the bus each morning. So forgive me, but I just can't understand why my kids don't know shit!

Kids these days don't know how to cook, behave in public, clean a wound, take care of their pets, or tie their shoes. They lack motivation and discipline. As soon as they get home they turn on the children's cable TV channels and watch until they get tired enough to go to bed. Just once I'd like to see my kids doing something worthwhile!

Another thing is that my kids aren't very well behaved. Don't schools still teach moral lessons on things like not lying and not hurting animals? If they are then it's not working! My kids lie right to my goddamn face. They throw rocks at chipmunks. And any time I turn my back they either break something or hurt themselves. Why don't they teach them to keep their hands to themselves?

To me, the clearest sign of our failing schools is how my kids sometimes act up. It's obvious to me that they're not getting enough attention from their teachers. They just love to piss me off by climbing all over the furniture and smudging up the walls. Don't they get enough of that all day at school? I wonder!

On top of it all, these teachers still try to pass their jobs off on us parents. They send home sign off sheets for homework and stuff. They guilt us into joining PTA groups, then shut us down when we tell them how to do their jobs. But if you back off and become less involved they'll accuse you of being bad parents. They seem to think we're the only ones to blame for the failures of our children. It just goes to show how out of touch they are.

You're too late, fellas!

Phil met my demands, and we've finally been wed in holy matrimony! Most importantly, he bought me one of those big houses I asked for! It's in a small development built within the boundaries of an older neighborhood. I like that because the houses on our block are much nicer than all the dumps around us. Another good thing about living in the Lakeside area is that everyone around here is unattractive, so I won't have to worry about Phil's wandering eyes!

Of course what you really want to hear about is the wedding! It was a lovely, no nonsense affair. We held the wedding and reception in Phil's neighbors backyard. The setting was perfect, other than the neighbor's kid's dirty faces, and the yard strewn with broken toys and shit. Also, Little Caesars did the catering, and it gave everyone constipation and gas. The sky was overcast too, but luckily it didn't rain, because the FunSaver cameras would have been ruined!

Phil was devilishly handsome in his new shirt, still creased with little squares from being fresh out of the pack. My three year old daughter Jailen was the adorable flower girl, dressed in her Halloween Disney princess costume. Muffin, my rottie, was going to be the ring bearer, but he bit my son (again) for trying to tie the little pillow around his collar. We decided instead to let the flower girl handle the ring, and Muffin's job would be to watch little newborn Orenthal James.

My cousin Buck handled the ceremony. That only cost us the small fee to have him ordained over the Internet. Phil's groomsmen were my other two cousins and my son, Brandon. Phil wanted his brother to be best man, but I said no, because I think he thinks he's better than us. My bridesmaids were my best friends, and my teenage daughter was my maid of honor. She wore my old prom dress, which she wouldn't have been able to fit in if she wasn't already so heavy from her pregnancy.

The nuptial vows were short and sweet, but our first married kiss was hot and sloppy. Then everyone hollered and we all got shitfaced. My cousins and my best friends ended up hooking up after dark, and they must have had fun, because they totally clogged Phil's neighbor's hot tub filter. Phil and I snuck out a little early, and spent our honeymoon night screwing like a couple of stray cats in his uncle's RV.

I won't tolerate an idle man!

I don't know what it is about the sight of a man doing nothing that just makes my blood boil! I know Phil works hard, and I respect that. But that don't mean he's gotta sit on ass and watch football every Sunday when I've got other things in mind that he could be doing. Of course I realize that Phil needs to relax sometimes. That's what sleep is for!

But in the waking hours he should want to spend every moment helping make a better life for me and my kids. I've tried dropping hints about how the kids' rooms are a mess, the garage is full of my ex-husbands former belongings, and my bathroom is in need of a good cleaning. Plus the wedding is coming up, and Phil hasn't even started going through my address book to send invitations to my friends.

I guess he doesn't get the fact that our life together started the minute he proposed. He seems to think that just because we're not living together yet he can still spend hours at his own house, doing his own thing. He already knows that as soon as he buys our new house I'm going to rent out my townhouse, but he hasn't even bothered to post it on Craigslist for me!

I can't wait until we're living in a nice planned development, and I've got Phil under my thumb where he belongs. All doubt will be removed because I'll be able to plan his day for him, and adjust the schedule thoughout the day. He won't have to worry about pissing me off any more, because I'll make sure that he's always doing the right thing. Then we'll both be happy!

America must return to greatness!

It's time, folks. It's time to roll up our sleeves, slip on our stretchy "USA" sweat wristbands, and get back to work on this little project we call America! It's time to clean all that dog snot off our cars' rear passenger windows. Define telemarketing as a form of terrorism. And lock the kids out of the house for the entire summer (If those brats get thirsty they can drink from the hose!).

We gotta take bold steps, like turn our backs on creamed corn, and anything equally as yucky. Rename "French fries" as "Early stroke fries". Legalize THC to maximize our paranoia level. Wear a thong to church to be closer to God. And deliberately mess with Texas, after having been repeatedly warned.

It's time to develop a genre of gay rap music. Help the homeless, or admit that we can't, and execute them. Win the race to develop the world's first scabies-proof mattress. Boycott unentertaining telethons right out of existence. And outfit our soldiers with huge, intimidating scissor hands!

As one people, with one common goal, we must yank the tick of inequality from Lady Liberty's greasy, matted fur. Disassemble all the SUVs, and turn them into gas/electric mopeds. Make poolside horse-play a felony. Capture Bill O'Reilly alive, and seal him inside of an unventilated see-through coffin.

Then we're gonna have a Pabst. And it's gonna be good.

Some guys can't take a compliment!

Our office has been really backed up on new invoices lately, so they gave me the opportunity to hire a temp. After sending us a couple of losers, the agency finally sent me someone I thought I could work with. He's a nice young married man, 22 years old, and in fantastic shape. Yes, I'm engaged right now, but that don't mean that I can't look. I ain't dead yet, folks!

He's a shy kid, so I've tried to make him feel comfortable by just being myself. I figured a few dirty jokes would break him out of his shyness. Then I tried boosting his confidence a bit more by patting him on the back or caressing his neck when he does a good job. I even told him that I thought he had a cute butt! Yet after all this he's just as shy as ever!

Then I thought I could get him out of his box by teasing him a little. I asked him about what kinds of things he liked to do to his wife. He told me that his wife was pregnant, and I offered a fun response about how pregnancy could have been avoided. I also left a silly photoshop on his desk of he and I having dirty sex, but he just threw it away without even saying anything!

Well I don't know what it is about him, but the more he avoids me, the more I think I like him! I've even resorted to some straight forward flirting! Yesterday, when he came into the lounge for his morning break, I was already in there, stirring his yogurt cup with my finger. Just as he realized what I was doing I pulled my finger out, put it in my mouth, and sucked the yogurt off. I've never seen a man blush so red!

Apparently that was it for him. He went to my director and told her that he didn't appreciate my behavior. The director and I have actually made friends over the last few months, so she wasn't hearing it. She told him she'd talk to me, and to go back to his desk. Then she called me in and told me to fire him if he's a problem. Since he's a temp it's no problem sending him away. Maybe I'll be generous and offer him an opportunity to save his job.

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The 25 worst drinks to get drunk on!

1.Creme de Buddy Hackett's leg pits
2.Piss warm cans of Milwaukee's Best
3.Goat's milk margarita
4.Last-sip-of-everyone-else's-beer sangria
5.Bloody marys at a vampire cult party
6.Steven Hawkin's wheelchair cushion rum
7.Used Bud Ice out a latrine
8.Rotten Cheese & Old Wood European Lager
9.Johnny Walker: guy-with-a-plate-in-his-head formula
10.Chemical toilet schnapps
11.Kahlúa on ice cubes made of viscous standing water
12.Mike's Heartburn Lemonade
13.Liquid propane martini
14.Rupaul's Own ready-to-drink mudslide mix
15.Hot Everclear & grenadine from a sports bottle
16.Viagra & Bacardi mixers at the old folks home
17.Irish cream out of a dirty cowboy boot
18.Orange Shasta and nail polish remover
19.Black & Tan & DNA evidence
20.Sally Jesse Raphael's panty wine
21.Bong water colada
22.Refreshing blue mouthwash cocktails
23.Aristocrat vodka colonic
24.Chunky curdled buttermilk shooters
25.Hugh Hefner's diaper contents, on the rocks

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My kids are a disappointment!

It's never easy being a mom. First your own parents disappoint you through your entire childhood. Then you have some kids of your own, and they're an even bigger disappointment! I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I give 'em everything they need. Maybe my kids are just a bunch of duds. Let me describe a little of what I mean so you won't think I'm a terrible mother!

My three year old, little Jailen, is always a handful. The problem with her is that she don't know when to shut up! She points at everything and asks me all kinds of questions. I always say, "I don't know! Damn.", but she keeps doin' it, so she's obviously not getting the hint. That's when I make her take a time-out, where she has to stand in the corner until she falls asleep.

The problem with Brandon, my eight year old, is that he likes all these things like "High School Musical" and Disney Channel. He also likes to draw. I've encouraged him to take on more manly pursuits, but he refuses. He always wants hugs, but I know I'm not supposed to coddle him to much. That's why I've converted an old broom into what I call "the indifference stick". I make him hold one end while I hold the other. It keeps us at a comfortable distance that I think will be best for his development.

I'm proudest of my 15 year old, Darla. She's following in my footsteps and leaping into womanhood by accepting responsibility for her pregnancy. The only problem with her is that she's such a prude! She never wants to smoke or party with her mom (but she's more than happy to with her friends!). She also won't listen to me when I tell her that part time college courses are a waste of time! She's got a baby on the way!

You'd think this little rant would end there, but no, because even my new baby, Orenthal, has been wrecking my last nerve! He's always hungry! It doesn't matter if I'm smoking a cigarette or taking a shit, he wants to be right there at my bosom! Even when I'm at a bar having a drink I've got to sneak him in under my sweatshirt. And wouldn't you know it, as soon as I make it up onto the stool he starts making noise and moving all around. I've been kicked out of three bars just since he was born!
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Let's annoy conservatives!

Conservatives, for the most part, are taking this presidency change well. They've shown restraint, patience, and even a touch of class. Now that America is united once more, it's time for us to piss all over these stupid bastards! So I've thought up a few clever ideas for establishing our liberal dominance once again!

A good way to start is with their families. Use your access as a teacher or babysitter to teach their kids to talk like rappers and intellectuals. Convince their daughter to try lesbianism, communism, or single motherhood. Laugh at their son because he sucks at basketball. If possible, document and report on the youthful indiscretions of their entire family.

The conservatives I know work hard for what they've got. So they'll hate it when you vandalize things in the planned suburban development where they live. Or when you drink up all their delicious cranberry juice. Or throw runny chili all over their nice clean khaki pants. You can add insult to injury by scratching the hell out of their Bonneville with an SOS pad.

Sooner or later, these fools will begin to bitch about things that happen during the Obama presidency. When they do, remind them how this country was founded by liberals and drunks. Accuse them of being anti-American traitors. Tell them to leave if they don't like it, or better yet, to go start their own country.

At that point we should turn the screws. Take away their guns, booze, and softcore pornography. Appoint Marion Barry to the position of Drug Czar. Put gays in charge of the military. Bitch-slap Pat Robertson until his head implodes. Produce a prime time documentary which proves that stem cells could have been used to cure the ills of their heroes, Heston and Reagan.

The most important way to get at them is to punish them for the crimes of their political affiliation. So take the time to explain to them how their beliefs are ignorant and false. Install a dope garden in their basement and report them to the Feds. Dose them with LSD & force them to look right in the face of the cold, shallow life that they've led. Then break their voting hand with a meat tenderizing mallet.

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What a girl wants!

As I mentioned in my last post, Phil and I are gettin' hitched! He truly is the prince I've been waiting for! I figured that setting up a few ground rules was the only way to ensure that the fairytale continues. So I've laid out my demands, and Phil has accepted them! It's like a dream come true!

My first demand was a big fat rock for my finger. I told him that I wouldn't settle for less than a 2 carat stone. Phil came through like a champ with a gorgeous ring that must have cost him about 4 months of income from his plumbing business

I've also made him promise to buy me a new house. I've always wanted to live in a big planned community! Something without a bunch of ugly trees, and carpeted in beautiful fake lawns. I love the kinds of houses they have there. I think they call them "McMansions", probably because they're quick to build and totally awesome!

I assured Phil that even though I like the fact that he's an older, more mature gentleman, that distended old nut sack of his has got to go! But I'm not suggesting castration! A simple cosmetic scrotal tuck will do just fine. I'm making him an appointment with a plastic surgeon for next week.

I'm telling you, this is going to be a new start for us for real! So it only makes sense that a few changes should be made. That's why I've told Phil to have his old hound put to sleep. I'm not going to have that goddamn thing stinking up my new house, or barking at the neighbors who live 20 feet away.

There's one more condition, and this one was almost a deal breaker. But I wouldn't back down...not after all the cheating that went on with my last husband! I will not be made the fool! So starting the day after our honeymoon, Phil will be wearing a male chastity kit, which will be locked by me each morning, and unlocked each night upon his return home.

My little bundle of joy!

I'd like to introduce the world to my new baby boy, Orenthal James Plumbs! My boyfriend Phil was kind enough to sign the birth certificate even though he isn't the real father. We're planning on moving in together and starting a new family. Soon we'll be married and my life will be stable again!



I didn't expect to have the baby so early! I'd gone out with my friends that night, and we were bar hopping all around Shockoe Bottom. I was so stoned on good weed that I didn't feel like drinking very much, but I did feel like finding some action! So I ditched my friends and left with this chubby frat boy I met at Tiki Bob's Cantina.

The kid took me back to his apartment, and we ate a whole bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. I convinced him to try these crazy semen pills I bought that are designed to increase the volume of ejaculate. We finished simultaneously, despite his poor sexual performance, and I was left sitting in a puddle. At first I thought it was just the pills, but then I realized that my water had broke!

I knew I had to move fast, so I smoked a cigarette, took a quick shower, and walked four blocks back to my van. I've had enough kids to know when they're about to pop out, so I thought I had time to stop at the McDonald's drive-thru for a snack wrap on my way to the hospital. Once I got through the line I headed straight to the emergency room. But suddenly it really started to hurt! Either this baby was on the way out, or my urinary tract infection was trying to kill me!

I knew then that there was no way I was going to make it to the hospital in time! So I drove a few blocks over to this physical rehab facility for the elderly that I had to bring Mother to a few years ago when she hurt her back. I pulled into the driveway and rammed my van into the door. I felt like I had to hold the baby in with my hands as I hobbled down the hall and leaped into one of the hydrotherapy tubs.

As soon as I hit the water I was giving birth to my new baby boy! What's weird is how that part didn't hurt at all! After a couple minutes of recovery time, I scooped him up in my fake fur coat and we headed for the hospital to be checked out. On my way there I called Phil and told him to meet us. Despite my joy, I did feel a bit sorry for whoever has to clean up that floater I left in the therapy tub.

25 Unpleasant places to stay!

The new company I'm working for compiles reviews and reports from customer satisfaction surveys. According to our annual records, these are the 25 worst places to stay in America.

1.Ralph's Flophouse for Uncircumcised Males
2.The Kingdom Comeshot Infidelity Motel
3.KKK Campgrounds and Recreation
4.Mountain View Chigger Nest & Breakfast
5.The Eurotrash Ball Sweat Hostel
6.Rush Limbaugh's Scat Shack
7.The Gushing Bedsore Cabins & Spa
8.Rancid Landfill Vistas
9.The Force-It Inn
10.A tent shared with Andy Dick and a flat-chested Thai boy
11.Rubber Sheet & Corn Oil Manor
12.The Body Temperature DNA Receptacle Motor Lodge
13.Silverfish Tower
14.Jesse Ventura's House of Headbutts
15.The Villas at Dannamora State Prison for the Criminally Insane
16.Unwashed Comforter Econosuites
17.German "Watersports" Fantasy Bungalow
18.Hourly Porno Sets of Central Miami
19.The Weary Traveler Who Suffers from Irregular Discharge
20.The Pillow Humping Migrant Worker Resort & Casino
21.DP Tapeworm's Long Stay Lodge
22.Annoying Chambermaid Luxury Jumbotels
23.The Cider Vomit House of Dublin
24.Lost Kidney Vacation Rentals
25.The pee-soaked couch in Vincent D'Onofrio's basement
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see also:
The nastiest hotel in Richmond!

Hardcore resolutions!

One of the best things about this country is our spirit of self-improvement. Any one of us can up and change ourselves for the better, because we enjoy the freedom to recreate ourselves whenever we choose. I've realized lately that even I could be a better person. So this year I'm making some resolutions, and taking them seriously!

For one thing, I gonna stop wasting time in the kitchen, and start taking advantage of the affordability of greasy fast food. My kids love it, and so do I, because it gives them a nice shiny coat. I'm also going to scrub all of those stubborn stains off the inside of the tub so my new baby will have somewhere clean to bathe and play while I'm out drinking or getting browned at the tanning salon.

I'm going to call Mother more than once or twice per year. I'm going to make exceptionally good use of my new Christmas bong. I'm going to stop balking at offers made to me by telemarketers. I'm going to take the time to test the reliability of my many homemade weapons. And I'll remove all the stray socks and candy wrappers from behind the furniture.

I plan to exercise at least once in the next twelve months. I'm going to make millions by placing tiny classified ads. I'm going to give an innocent stranger the middle finger at least once per day. And I'll do my best to eat a vegetable every week. I'll make the kids wear their seatbelts, and I'll no longer harass my coworkers by eating beef jerky in an erotic way

I could certainly improve my driving. I'll slow down and pretend that I'm not going anyplace in particular. I'll stop using my turn signals, and focus on taking slower, more deliberate turns off of busy roads. I'm going to set up a Netflix account so we'll have better DVDs to watch in the van. I'm also going to stop wasting my money on frivolous car insurance

I'm going to start being nicer to fat people and gay people, and in exchange I'll be a little bit meaner towards fat gay people. I'm going to do a better job of learning from my horoscopes. I'm going to give that electric bread maker another a try. And one day this year I'll go down to the soup kitchen and serve up a hearty stew made from every old pillow in the house. I'm getting one of my teeth capped in gold. And I'm gonna get laid more often by less people.

All my exes live in Richmond!

If you've ever lived in Richmond then you know what a small town it can be. You can barely leave the damn house without running into past acquaintances, former coworkers, and of course, romantic exes. It's always awkward when you have to greet someone you haven't seen in a long time, but more especially when it's someone you've dated!

I'm quite popular with the fellas, so I'm always seeing old lovers out and about. If he's alone I'll usually either ignore him or give him a disinterested nod. But if he happens to be with a woman, it's different. For some reason I've just got to make the situation unbearable for all concerned!

I start out with a hello, and wait for an introduction to his companion. Then, as I shake her hand weakly, I look her over from her shoes all the way to her face. By the time we make eye contact I've got a nostril raised in disgust. Then I start ignoring the woman completely. I ask my ex how his mother or house pet is doing. Then I gaze longingly as he's answering the question.

Sometimes I'll flirt in an obvious manner to make his new girlfriend or wife feel threatened and uncomfortable. Other times I'll emasculate him by implying jokingly that he's a lousy lover, or incapable of taking care of himself or anyone else. If the mood is right I'll suggest that one of my kids might be his. It's also fun to coyly request his new cell phone number!

The best things to say are the things they don't expect. I'll say that I've been looking all over for him because he might have an STD. I'll subtly hint that he still owes me money for an old used car, or a long forgotten abortion. Then I start groping myself and talking about how much I miss him! It's about that time that he will politely end the conversation and walk away in a hurry, and I know that my work is done.

Super secret Santa!

I've been settling in nicely at my new job. I'm getting to know everyone, and while we've all been getting along well enough, I've noticed how clueless some of them seem to be about their shortcomings. That's why I decided to play Santa this year, and give everyone a little something special!

I was somehow able to pick out most of their gifts while browsing through Big Lots, which was nice, because these gifts were about thought rather than price. I started by grabbing a package of control top pantyhose for Susan, our secretary, because she has a gut that just won't quit. Then I bought a box of Biore pore strips for the HR lady, Helen, who has a mess of really thick blackheads all over her T-zone.

I picked up a bottle of Febreze for Amy, our accounts receivable girl, because she always smells like a trailer home full of unwashed Mastiffs. And I went with a large pack of generic Dexatrim for Trisha, the accounts manager, because it would be nice if she finally got thin so she could get past her obvious eating disorder once and for all!

Tooth whitener was the obvious choice for Darryl, the only male in our office (and the only one of us with a mouth full of rotting teeth!). Then there's Bonnie, one of my file clerks. She's always getting called into the school because of her shitty little troublemaker son, so I got her The Complete Idiot's Guide to Raising Boys.

My other file clerk, Leah, always has her frizzy hair balled up like a rat's nest, so I got her a bottle of leave-in conditioner. I had a hard time thinking of something nice for Simone, who handles our outgoing mail. I decided on a pack of moist toilet wipes, because she always leaves the bathroom smelling like diarrhea.

It was important to me to make this a surprise! So yesterday, when nobody was working, I came in and left gift bags on everybody's desk. I even left a bag with a new hairbrush in it on my own desk so nobody would think it was me who left all those presents! Unfortunately I took this week off, so I wasn't able to see the look on everyone's faces when they open their gifts!

Quick hints for a happy Holiday!

A few simple tips for a joyous Christmas season!

Fun Christmastime activities:

- Sit on your roof and shoot at flying objects
- Fill the kids' Christmas stockings with runny ricotta cheese
- Instead of a tree, display your gifts under a hanging, gutted deer
- Slam on the breaks when your car starts to skid on ice
- Spread your flu germs all over the office potluck
- Make love to a snowman until the frostbite becomes unbearable
- Slap your Uncle on the tits for playing the Chipmunks Christmas album
- Eat the candy you found in the toe of last year's Christmas stocking


Christmas gifts that will go unappreciated:

- Vintage white underwear with a crusty old elastic waistband
- The head of a beloved pet, stuffed and mounted
- Fannypack full of used up phone cards
- Two big mean baboons
- Repulsive Christmas themed lingerie for men
- Voucher for a week at the Camp for Fat Kids
- An oblong personal massager from Grandpa
- Hunting cap with big fake antlers stuck on it
- Used "Juggs" magazine and a bottle of corn husker's lotion


Holiday safety warnings:
- Beware of ugly chicks with mistletoe on their hats
- Drunk Driving is safer if you've got a plow on your truck
- That fake spray-on snow is settling in your lungs right now
- Egg nog, rum balls, and loose women can be a dangerous combination
- Use a stun-gun to help break through those crowds at the Mall
- Top-heavy women should avoid the use of Sno-tubes
- If an elf starts humping your leg you should just let it finish
- Be careful to give no more than you receive
- Don't be fooled by the big lie: most snowflakes are exactly the same


More jolly ideas from Jocelyn's Corner:

Spreading your holiday cheer!

Christmas shopping made easy!

There's nothing like free drinks!

I had a good ol' time at a bar last night! I'd never been there before (and will probably never go again), so I felt comfortable with being myself and letting loose! The regulars seemed impressed with the way I was pounding drinks through the entire happy hour. I was so busy chugging that had to let my cigarettes just smolder away in the ash tray!

Just before happy hour ended a few British ex-patriots showed up and bought me a pint. You really can't have a better time at a bar than when British people are in the house! By the time we were done singing and telling jokes I was half in the bag! But they soon left without saying goodbye. I guess they'd never seen a pregnant woman dancing on a pinball machine before!

I normally don't order food at a bar, but the baby started kicking, so I decided to slow him down with a double order of greasy onion rings! When I was done scarfing those down I made it over to the games area, where I beat a sweetheart ex-convict in a game of billiards. Easiest $50 I'd made all day. I managed to mess up his shots by showing off my assets from across the table. Real men just can't help but be distracted by my lovely lady lumps!

After he left I ordered myself a Bud Lite, along with a round of Bushmills shots for everyone at the bar. Once those were gone things really stared dying down, and I began thinking about heading home. I had been building a rapport with the bartender all night. I told him that I needed some smokes, but I only smoked Parliments, which they don't sell there. Then I told him (as I headed to the door) to pour me another beer, and that I'd be right back from the mini-mart next door.

As he may have suspected, I had no plans to return. I simply drove off without ever paying my tab. I've gotta say that of all the things that drinking inspires me to do, stealing from idiots is by far my favorite! On my way home I smoked a fat bowl of dank weed, and laughed about how stupid and trusting that bartender had been!

Spreading your holiday cheer!

I like to get in the Christmas spirit as early as possible. With my shopping done, and my Christmas plans made, I can focus on all the good things that make the season bright! Real Christmas spirit requires some effort. You can't just dance foolishly in a skin tight outfit of bright red felt and expect the spirit to fall into your lap!

Decoration is a nice way to start. I set up a fake snowman on our porch with garbage bags of used disposable diapers. Then I make the front door more welcoming by hanging a festive wreath of dog skulls. I also like to place a dish on the bathroom counter filled with holiday-themed novelty condoms that I buy from the truck stop restroom. And I decorate myself by wearing a colorful designer scarf, like some kind of Euro-trash.

Another time honored way to get in the Christmas spirit is to do a few nice things for others. I've delighted hundreds of neighborhood rodents by leaving loaves of candied-mealworm fruitcake all around the yard. I'm also planning to dress Muffin, our Rottie, in a traditional reindeer costume and bring him downtown late at night to greet homeless people. And next week, when my neighbors go out of town, I plan to donate all their belongings to the Salvation Army.

There are even a few little personal things we can do for just for ourselves that can make us feel festive. So tell your kids a story about the time Santa stepped on a kitten. Use a stick of Hickory Farms beef as underarm deodorant. Put on a Santa suit and get your fat ass lodged inside your own chimney. Try to break open some Brazil nuts with your fingernails. Or just head to the mall and give Santa a wet soapy lap dance in front of all the kids.

Of course the holidays come with their own stresses, so be sure to blow off steam when necessary. The best way to do this is by punishing the naughty. Maybe bludgeon that bitchy clerk at the Kmart returns counter with a giant Hershey's Kiss. Strangle a drunk with a lovely strand of garland. Go "Boston Tea Party" on that cookie store in the mall. Or use your crab ridden genitals to make manly love to all the Christmas stockings at Wal-mart.

Representin' with Critical Mass!

I usually avoid exercise in all it's forms, but I've gotta admit that I have the best time participating in something they call Critical Mass! A Critical Mass is what happens when folks get together to ride bicycles through a city in large groups. Everyone rides side-by-side to take up the whole road and create a fun-filled nuisance! Obnoxious bicyclists really piss me off when I'm driving , so it's just nice to turn the tables and be the annoying bicyclist for a change!

It was by pure chance that I even discovered this group. I was driving the van home from a bar one weekend afternoon, and I decided to cut through some weird neighborhood to avoid passing any cops. I saw a group of young people on bicycles with flags and stuff, all laughing and riding around together. Something inside me made me want to get out and join them!

By coincidence I had a 3-wheeled bicycle in the back of my van that I'd stolen the week before (from some moron who parked it in front of a halfway home). It worked out so well that I now bring it with me every time! It's got a nice big basket behind the seat that I can use to carry snacks and blunt objects. The extra wheel also provides stability, so I can play an active roll in all the shenanigans!

What I like is how Critical Mass is made up of all kinds, and how it changes a little every time. Of course you always get those dudes who dress like bike messengers because their whole identity is wrapped up in fixed-gear bikes. And you're sure to see a few smelly VCU Fan rats who show up way too sober to be riding an old pink banana seat bike. But these events also attract plenty of real people like me, who hold down steady jobs, pay mortgages, and raise kids (when I'm not raising Hell!).

The whole thing is really just your typical sort of protest, in that everyone participates as a statement for their own specific agenda. This spirit makes it all the more exciting because anything can happen! You never know if the guy next to you is going to wave a homemade flag, sing a song, or throw a Snapple bottle full of piss through the back window of a parked SUV! And due to the disorganization and lack of specific route for the rides, we tend to avoid any advanced scrutiny by authorities!

So about once per month I drive out to join the Critical Mass, and do my part to aggravate automobile drivers. A few of these drivers think it's cute at first, but sooner or later they get angry because they actually have someplace to go. Some honk, or yell. Some swerve back and forth a little to intimidate us. If they specifically tell us to get out of the road we scream, "We're traffic too!", or, "Eat shit!".

We know we've succeeded when the drivers start getting aggressive. That's when a couple of us drag them out of their cars and beat them with a bike lock right in front of their kids. A few people in the group pretend that they don't want us to beat those people up, which just shows you how silly these kids can be! Occasionally I'll find myself cramping up and gasping for breath because I'm punching and laughing so hard!

Christmas shopping made easy!

The way most people do their Christmas shopping just makes me sick. Waiting in stupid long lines for Black Friday specials. Putting tons of new debt on their credit cards. Wasting their hard earned money on gobs of overpriced crap that none of them even need. It's depressing, and it's senseless. This season should be about having fun, and not about spending a lot of money!

You won't find me at those Black Friday sales until just after the stores open. I park my van in a handicapped accessible spot, and watch those first few lucky customers come striding out, smiling over the purchase of a few limited supply items. I follow them from that parking lot to wherever they shop next. Most of them head to the mall. Then, once they've gone inside, I perform a quick smash and grab out of their parked car. Nothing could be easier! Phil is really going to love his new 36" HD television!

Another fun way to stock up on holiday fun is to steal packages from people's doorsteps. I bought the cutest little UPS girl outfit a few Halloweens ago, and it's becoming an indispensable part of my holiday routine. Nobody even notices me when I'm out on my lunch break, hitting up front stoops of houses for a "pick-up". It's nice when the companies put their logos on the shipping boxes so you know what you're getting. I hope my three year old enjoys her new laptop computer!

There's also the option of charitable sources, like Toys for Tots. I apply to those programs with falsified information so my kids can get a few extra gifts out of it. You should see the look on those volunteers faces when they have to deliver that stuff to our well furnished townhouse! But this method doesn't allow you to select what types of toys they bring. So go out earlier in the month and rummage around in their donation bins at the front of stores, and in office buildings. That kid-sized robotic dinosaur I snagged is going to knock little Brandon's socks off!

My final technique is a no-brainer. Folks are always looking for babysitters this time of year. All you need to do is post a few signs up on bulletin boards. Once the baby is asleep you can snag a few items from under their tree and move it out to your trunk before they get home. If you can find extra wrapping paper around you can always empty the boxes and rewrap them. This way you won't arouse any suspicion. My daughter is going to be so excited when she opens up the sassy new Dallas Cowboys jacket I took for her, and all the baby toys I swiped will be perfect for welcoming her unborn baby!

How I got my first job!

It's fun to think back to those awkward days when I was just a brace-faced teenager. We all remember the excitement of getting our first job, and the thrilling prospects of making our own money. Unfortunately, I didn't get the first job I applied for. But going after it gave me my very first opportunity to stand up to tyranny!

I was intially full of confidence, because three of the other girls from my high school bowling team had already been hired at this one bar & grill. The owner, who resembled John Leguizamo's character from the movie Spawn, was notorious for only hiring cute teenage girls for the waitress positions. So I put on my demure little prairie girl dress and skipped on in there to see if I could seduce him out of a part-time position!

I walked in, found the man, and didn't get two sentences into my spiel before he took me aside and explained that I wasn't even fit to charm the customers who showed up on "all-you-can-eat pickled egg night". He also said that my wolfy looking legs didn't help, and neither did the dark red hair above my lip. As he escorted me to the front door, he told me to maybe come back in a couple years when I'd, "stopped dressing like an Amish retard".

So my first teenage job was to send this motherfucker's life crashing down all around him! Over the course of the next month I called his wife anonymously, every three days, to coyly insinuate that there was something about her husband that she didn't know. His pale, chubby daughter happened to be a freshman at my high school, so I spread a rumor about her having Hepatitis C. The nickname "Hepatitis Girl" managed to follow her all the way through community college!

The final phase of my retribution was a master stroke! That Boss "Hogg" bastard drove an immaculate white Cadillac, with pristine all-white leather interior. One night I took the metal bucket full of cigarette butts and chewing tobacco spit that the kitchen staff kept by the back door of the restaurant, and I set it up in the back seat of his car. As he drove himself home that night the bucket rocked back and forth, until it eventually tipped over and dumped it's payload all over the seats!

Finally, towards the middle of the summer, I secured my first paying job. My uncle managed the service garage for one of the major dealerships in town, and he hired me on. It was a sweet job, flirting with the greasy mechanics, and accepting payments from customers for the Service and Parts department. It was also hilarious, because we would rip the customers off big time! Some customers would bitch, some would cry, and some would just quietly pay while secretly fighing back a world of rage! I can't say that I blamed them. $70 to glue a rear view mirror back on is some bullshit!

25 Rejected Underwear Prototypes!

The company I just quit from is in the business of testing new products before they go to market. My office managed the billing of their various corporate clients, which gave me access to all of the testing data.

Here are the 25 worst underwear prototypes we've ever tested:

1.Scabbies for Women
2.The Pink Panther Fiberglass Filled Codpiece
3.BVD Chewables
4.Pledge Lemon-Scented Nut Sling
5.Mr. Crotch
6.Richard Simmons's Technicolor Dreamstraps
7.Wedgemasters
8.Chiggers & Co.
9.The Bovine Collection from Dress Barn
10.Señor Pelvis's Pants Piñatas
11.Saran Wrap Disposable Skidmark Singles
12.Hot Pockets Pepperoni & Cheese Casuals
13.Wilford Brimley's Huskyboy Underoos
14.Smucker's Stainproof Raspberry Briefs
15.Bounty Paper Skivvies
16.Charlie Sheen Signature Series Crotchless Thongs for Women
17.Wetnap Premoistened Boxers
18.Columbian Mule Brand, with comfy contraband smuggling design
19.Pope Benny's "Touchably-Soft" for boys
20.Jello Jockstrap Jigglers
21.Ron Jeremy Ball Hair Control Jockeys with Baking Soda
22.Depends "Waterloggers", The Swim Pants for Seniors!
23.Frito's Chili & Cheese Dippin' Drawers
24.Brillo Steel Wool G-String
25."Lock-ups" Prison Bitch Training Pants

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Missing: One tooth!

As some of you may have noticed, I live a hardcore punk rock lifestyle. I go my own way. I don't limit myself based on accepted social norms, or bend to the will of so-called authority figures. The best thing about being punk as fuck is making personal choices that will disturb all the squares. That is why I'm not replacing this tooth!

I vividly remember the night that I lost it. I was at some dumpy "all ages" club watching a local rock band. Almost the entire crowd was 15-year-olds, a few parents, and me. The kids didn't want to get too close to the stage, so I hopped into the semi-circle gap between the crowd and the stage. I must have been pretty boozy, 'cause I was whipping my hair to the music and slam-dancing with the front row.

This went on for several minutes until the bouncer grabbed my arm, dragged me outside, and assured me that nobody in there wanted to mosh. Dejected, I stumbled my way towards a few other clubs. A group of crusty squatter punks called me over to the doorway they were sitting in. They told me they were travelling and looking for a place to party. I thought they were pretty cool so I took them to one of my old lover's apartments. I still had a key, and knew that he'd be out for the night tending bar.

After an hour of emptying the fridge, drinking his vodka, and messing up the place, me and the one dude with liberty spikes decided to head out for some cigarettes. The streets were empty, and we were loud! Somehow I ended up on the roof of a parked car, using my right heel to kick out the windshield. That's when I slipped and fell face-first onto the curb. When I got up my new friend was gone and so was my front tooth!

While waiting a week for my dental appointment, I started noticing how people were treating me differently. Strangers stopped trying to argue with me. Employees of businesses I frequent just gave me whatever I asked for. They clearly didn't want to have to deal with me for any length of time. I couldn't believe how much character had been added to my otherwise average-looking face!

I must have also become more approachable, because I started meeting more guys, and fewer of them were bothered by the fact that I was married. After thinking long and hard I went ahead and had the dentist check out the condition of my teeth and gums. He was surprised when I told him that I didn't want to replace the tooth I'd lost. Why I should bother with a partial? The new look has been working out fine!

A Thanksgiving that doesn't suck!

Thanksgiving this year is going to be great, because I won't have to spend it with my ex-husband Kevin's stupid family. Those jerkoffs don't have a clue of how to do it up right. They always serve too many fancy appetizers, so everybody fills up before the meal even starts. Then they like to watch those parades on TV, which is nothing but a bunch of inflatable characters that are so old that none of the kids even recognize them.

The food they serve is what bothers me most. His idiot mother's turkey is as dry as a popcorn fart. The cranberry sauce doesn't have enough sugar, and the sweet potatoes don't even have marshmallows on top! His decrepit Grandmother insists on making that old fashioned guts n' onion stuffing that everybody hates. They serve cheap dinner rolls that don't soak up gravy worth a damn. And to add insult to injury, they have the nerve to make my children sit at the dehumanizing "kid's table"!

Come to think of it, everything about their house was terrible for Thanksgiving! It's bad enough that they've got the nasty pink padded toilet seat, but how am I supposed to work with single-ply toilet paper after the biggest dump of my life? Of course after dinner these assholes watch football games non-stop. I got so bored one year that I ended up drinking too much red wine and dancing topless with his fat aunt.

Then they've got all these goddamn little kids running around while I'm trying to take a turkey nap. That's just as well, since the living room couches are too short to lay on, and of course the recliner doesn't go all the way back. So the only option is the upstairs guest room, which is a bitch to get to when you're so full that you can't even walk erect. After relaxing for a while they drag everybody to the theater to take in the worst movie available.

So this year I'm happy to be keeping it to my immediate family. Luckily, Mother is stuck in that nursing home, so I don't need to worry about her inviting all our gnarly relatives from out of town to show up here and expect me to put them up for the week. (One thing I promised myself early on was that I'd never let smelly relatives take over my kid's rooms during holidays like my parents used to do to us.) None of my worthless relatives get along that well anyway, so good riddance!

I've got the food bank coming today with a nice Thanksgiving care package, which is really a time saver for me more than anything else. We can afford way better, but why turn down free food, am I right? Then Phil is taking us to the dump where we're going to hunt rodents with his paint ball guns! You know what they say! "The family that preys together, stays together"! Finally, we'll settle in on the couch to watch The Shining. I hope my three year old loves it as much as I did when I was her age!

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Pregnancy loves company!

I'm just over 7 months pregnant now. It's insufferable. I'm having a difficult time finding new guys who want to get with me, and nobody wants to sell me any drugs, which I need because I'm moody as hell. That makes me even angrier! I really need to get high sometimes. I can't risk messing up my new job by losing my temper. Hell, I can't even relax when I'm supposed to!

Like on Saturday. I was out at the club, gettin' my drink on and dancing a little. It had been a pretty weak night, until I caught the attention of a half dozen Mexican construction workers. They started talking about trying to bring me back to their motel room. Suddenly this rat-faced little bitch stomps over and gets right in my face, saying she was with them and that they had no interest in me anyway.

Normally I'm too smart to get violent. But you know I can't have no smelly, pockmarked slut pointing in my face and blowin' up my spot! As if her insults weren't enough, her stank breath just about turned my stomach. I walked off, took a seat across the bar, and began to bide my time. I continued to keep an eye on her without raising suspicion.

After about an hour I saw her heading towards the ladies room. I followed. I entered quietly and listened. She sounded like a cow pissing on a flat rock. Then she flushed, opened the stall door, and met with one powerful burst of orange dyed mace from the can that I keep in my purse! As she screamed and reached for her eyes, I smacked her in the nose as hard as I could. Then I turned, kicked open the bathroom door, and moved casually towards the exit.

My hand was burning all night from that mace, and it'll probably be stained orange for a week! It's a good thing my new job doesn't start until then, or I'd have some explaining to do! It would be nice to tell somebody though, just to vent! All this stress and bullshit does not make for a healthy pregnancy. Life can really pile it on like that sometimes!

So you can probably imagine how delighted I was to hear some good news! My daughter Darla is pregnant now too! Granted she's only 15, but we've got the money to support another child, so what's the harm? In a way I feel I need to help her take responsibility for this baby, because I've given her all kinds of hell for stealing condoms from my bedside drawer. I wanted her to buy her own, and I know how inconvenient that can be. Now she's going to learn how inconvenient a baby can be!