Tuesday, December 24, 2013

The truths of Christmas according to Little Shit

After eating dinner out for Dickhead's birthday, we decided to go look at Christmas lights. Dickhead, myself, all three little shits and Nana piled into my car and headed out.

Little Shit launched into a medley of Christmas songs as if we hadn't just seen her train wreck Christmas program last week.

"You know Dasher, and Blitzen and Cupid and Dancer and Conner and Ditzen" sang Little Shit....hey mommy, do you remember when Glo-bug used to come over and bring bagels and her son Connor came to play? But he's a human, not a reindeer." At my nod because I couldn't speak from choking on laughter, Little Shit continued on with her song ..."Rudolph the red nosed reindeer." Baby Shit punctuated the song with random "damn its" but Little Shit got the last of the lyrics right.

At the end of the song Little Shit matter-of-factly told us all that she sang that song so the "Tween would know that reindeer are real and the leader of them is Rudolph and HIS NOSE IS RED!"

The entire car erupted in laughter. Then Little Shit told us it was "time to get home because it's late for little girls" and she didn't want to miss Santa coming if she didn't get to bed soon enough "since he's bringing a kid's luxury two-seater electric car for me."

I don't know what muthafuckin shit the Tween has been telling her little sisters, but considering that it isn't even 8:00pm here....kids in bed sounds like a grand fucking plan.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Burning the house down

The Tween and her friend got the brilliant fucking idea to do some holiday baking in the Easy Bake Oven. No big deal, right? Two 12 year olds turned loose cooking with a kiddie oven should be no fucking problem. Right? Right?! Muthafuckin' WRONG, Bitches.

It all started with an Easy Bake Oven recipe...

They set up in the bar of our house to do the baking. After pouring a beer from the tapper, I vacated the area. About half an hour later I smelled something burning and went downstairs to see what the hell was going on. In the midst of the cooking, the girls got hungry and heated up a pizza. Some of the cheese dripped and left that disgusting burnt fart smell. Assured that things were going smoothly, I refilled the beer and again vacated the area. Zero fucks given.

After getting settled with my beer and iPad to do some reading, Nana starts sniffing the air. "I smell something burning," she said. I absentmindedly told her what had happened. A couple of minutes later Dickhead asked what was burning. Without looking up I said "cheese from a pizza." Bromance who was also sitting around with a beer said, "Yeah, smells like the house is burning down."

At this point I was getting really irritated, and when everyone kept talking about the smell I lost my shit and snapped, "I was just down there. It's just some fucking cheese. Can I read my goddam book now?" Then Nana sniffed the air again. I launched up out of my chair, stomped downstairs and into the bar....to see smoke billowing from the microwave above the Tween's oblivious head. I punched the microwave door button and as it opened even more smoke rushed out.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I sputtered. So much smoke was pouring out that I couldn't even see what was inside it.

"The cake was taking too long so we were just finishing it up in the microwave," said the Tween's friend.

And in that instant. In that very.fucking.instant I saw it. A goddam METAL pan in my muthafuckin' MICROWAVE. There must have been steam coming out of my nostrils because the Tween and her friend shrank back.

"Who's brilliant idea was it to put this in here? You can't put metal in a MICROWAVE!" I yelled.

The Tween meekly replied, "I didn't know that."

Wrong. fucking. answer. "You blew up a microwave at our last house and almost caught the house on fire when you put metal in it. And you. didn't. know? You didn't learn anything from that?!?" Then I yelled up the stairs, "Hey, Dickhead, did you hear what my genius daughter just did and said?" I heard laughter from Dickhead, Bromance and Nana. ...Fucking assholes upstairs laughing.

The girls were ordered to clean everything up. Before leaving the bar I grabbed a new glass and filled it with beer. Then told them as punishment they were the household bar maids for the rest of the evening. Any time we yelled for them they better both come running and refill our beers or bring some food. And they were also officially babysitting the little shits. For free.

Zero muthafuckin' fucks given.

Friday, December 20, 2013

Clusterfucked Christmas Program

The entire family just returned home from Little Shit's Pre-K Christmas program. We arrived early and snagged seats right in the middle of the front row. While we waited for the program to start, Baby Shit crawled around on the gym floor, danced and sang her own version of several popular Christmas songs. A few times, in her sugar-hyped state, she would jump in the air and fall on her ass. Baby Shit would announce her clumsiness by shouting "Oh dammit! I falled down!" To which I'd hide my face on Dickhead's shoulder in an attempt to disguise my giggles. A grandma approached with her grandson who was Baby Shit's age so they could play. The first time Baby Shit fell and yelled out "oh dammit I felled" the grandma tittered, but let the kids keep playing. After the third time she caught on that Baby Shit really just liked yelling "oh dammit." So she grabbed her grandson and hastily retreated to the safety of their seats....several rows away.

After all the parents, siblings and grandparents of 64 pre-k kids were jammed in the gym, our precious little shits made their grand entrance.

Cue the gong show...while it was a cute clusterfuck of 4-5 year old kids and teachers in their pajamas dancing and singing songs, they barely knew the words. But it was entertaining. Especially when Baby Shit joined in
at the top of her lungsand made up words when she didn't know them. Taking a cue from Baby Shit, the Pre-K kids started making up words and the entire program became a fucking train wreck.

Best Christmas program ever. Ever.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Mommy's "meanness"

I was sitting on the crapper so of course Baby Shit and Little Shit barged in to disturb my sacred "pooping in peace" time. An unopened tampon was on the floor by my feet.

Baby Shit snatched it up and asked "Wha's dat mommy?" I reached for it, telling her it was mommy's.

"Dis a pen?" inquired Baby Shit. She backed away a little when I swiped at it. "Dis a color?" she asked louder, inching toward the door and bumping into Little Shit who grabbed it from her.

"No, Baby Shit, this is what mommy uses to soak up her extra meanness," explained Little Shit. As she handed the tampon back to me Little Shit further explained, "Then she drinks wine to make her happy the meanness is going away. Right mommy?"

Nailed it, Little Shit. Nailed it.

Monday, December 16, 2013

What sucks hairy elephant balls? Mondays.

Mondays. Mun-fucking-days. They all suck, but what sucks hairy elephant balls? This muthafuckin' Monday. I was on my way to work, running on time (about 10 minutes late) as usual, and listening to some soothing tunes (Eminem) when I started getting irritated at the asshole in front of me who wouldn't pass despite being in the passing lane. This blocked me in on the far left lane and my exit to the right was coming up. I was a couple of car lengths behind the fucker with some douchenugget riding my ass so hard I thought he should be paying me for the privilege. When the numb nuts in front of me finally figured out how the gas pedal works, I was about to miss my exit. I sped past him, switched lanes and made my exit just in time. Fuck yeah! Fist pumping and feeling the Eminem rhythm, I rapped along like a fucking white rapper prodigy. Soon I heard sirens and realized it was NOT coming from my stereo. Son.of.a.cuntard.bitch. Are you fucking kidding me?
Wouldn't you know I'd get the cop with an ego hard-on so big you just know he's either:
A) pissed that he didn't get laid before his shift or
B) furious about his pinky dick and has to act like an asshole to make up for the maggot-sized appendage he jacks off between his finger and thumb.
He was one angry little man, head barely clearing the bottom of my SUV's window, yelling about how I should have pulled over ON THE EXIT RAMP of an interstate rather than waited to pull over in a spot I felt safe in. Had I done that both my car and his would have been straddling the nonexistent shoulder line: "Sorry officer, I'd rather not have your torso get chopped in half by a semi and blood sprayed over my newly washed vehicle, and ruin my fuckin' holidays."

He also didn't like when I politely asked what the fuck I had done to get pulled over. With spittle flying from his mouth like a rabid dog he berated me for not having the sense to know what the hell I had done wrong. Remember the part where some goddam asshat was nosing around my tail end like he was trying to get the courage to ass rape the tail pipe of my SUV? It was this angry munchkin in his unmarked patrol car. Sorry sir, are you upset that I was blocking you from passing? Because it was the fault of the fucktard in front of me. The raving Oompa Loompa was not amused. He stalked back to his patrol car with my license, his little bowlegs making it appear the baton in his ass was moving further north into a more uncomfortable position.

He was gone for a little while, intimidation tactic I presume, so I had cranked up some Eazy-E "Boyz N The Hood" and threw down "Cruising down the street in my 6-4, Jocking the freaks, clocking the dough" when my chunk of a midget stalked back over. Judging from more pleasant scowl on his face he either realized this Bitch has zero points deducted from her driving record or he wanked one off in his car. Can't say I'd blame a muthafucka...I'm pretty fucking hot, even in my license picture.

Officer Munchkin gruffly informed me that he was letting me go with a warning. I smiled and said "thank you sir" while reaching for my license. With one more attempt at asserting his dominance, he told me to say it louder and like I meant it. Hold.the.fuck.up. Say WHAT? I just stared at Officer Jackass until he let my license go.

I'm grateful the asshat didn't give me a ticket. But I don't care what fucking color your uniform is, I'm not your whipping dog and I certainly will not allow you to get your rocks off by acting like you're better than me. Welcome to my muthafuckin' Monday, Bitches. 

Monday, December 9, 2013

I'll take a Brazilian and some fries with that, fuck you very much

After having my vajayjay and ass hair savagely ripped out with a quick Brazilian wax, I went through a drive thru for lunch. I was feeling pretty sassy, as one typically does when relishing in a hair free cooter, and immediately after placing my order the Lily Allen song "Fuck You" came on from my iTunes. I cranked the volume up and pulled up to pay.

 Video: Fuck You

Shaking my ass to the beat, I rolled down the window and handed over my credit card singing the chorus "fuck you, fuck you very very muu-uh-uh-uh-uch." The shocked look on the worker's face snapped me back to reality of what was coming out of my mouth.

But with zero fucks to give I hit the arrow on my steering wheel to crank that muthafucka up even more. I just hope like hell that my ZFG attitude didn't result in some herpes-infested ass clown rubbing the meat patty over their crusted lip, causing me to wind up with an STD. If I get mouth herpes I may very well give a fuck.

Monday, December 2, 2013

"Vaginal Knitting" – Yarn spindling from a weaver's beaver

Some people crochet, creative Pinterest assholes create artsy fartsy crafts, others scrapbook. And others think of the most douchey thing they can do to make a hobby a new form of ‘art’. Have you had the pleasure of viewing the video of a performing arts woman who knits from her twat? Well, be prepared to feel enlightened. Kidding, prepared to be stunned. And grab some bleach because you’ll need it for your eyes after viewing this.

Doesn’t that shit just make you want to rush out and order your own pair of veej mittens? How about a scarf? With that thing tucked under your nose you’ll be in rank pussy heaven.

A few things astound me about this new art craft and raised questions that I MUST ask:

  1. How much yarn is needed in order to last the full 28 days, and most importantly how many rolls of yarn have been stuffed in that beaver in order to learn this? 
  2. How many hours a day are spent pulling threads of yarn from one’s twat in order to finish on the 28th day? 
  3. For those of you unfamiliar with yarn, I must inform you that it comes in a massive roll. Like, bigger than a footlong with several inches of girth. Holyfuckinghell how is it possible that she shoves a roll into her vag?? Seriously! How big is her twat that she can shove a roll of yarn in there? 
  4. How does it unroll whilst she's yarning her glorious splendor and wondrous creations? Geezus I know how much it hurts to pull out a tampon sometimes, how it scrapes my uterine lining and makes me feel like the walls of my vagina are being sanded from the cotton. WTF does an unwinding spool of yarn feel like?
  5. How many pubic hairs have been weaved in with the masterpieces? I know you noticed the dark bush hair that didn't match what's on that cunt nugget's head.
  6. If I were to order one of these creations, would it need to be a heartfelt order? Could I order some twat glove liners for my Dickhead so his digits stay warm? Must I tell him his fingers are pushed inside a vulva creation? It’s not like he hasn’t had his fingers in a twat before….
  7. Do the creations smell au naturel? Does the beaver weaver douche between spools of yarn so each creation smells its best?
  8. Does the portion of said scarf or yarning goodness that spurts forth from her inner loins during her days of profuse bleeding sell for MORE money or LESS money?
Even with all of these thoughts churning in my mind, I will admit I was actually disappointed after watching the video. I thought for sure this genius was actually knitting from her vagina, not just letting the yarn fester in her taco town before pulling the yarn from it. I was prepared to be amazed and speechless with hopes she’d knit a fucking owl hat or a flower or some shit. When I pressed play I thought to myself, "Self, YOU need to be able to spin wool with your vaj. That is the next level in greatness. You need to become a master beaver weaver.” Alas, my disappointment is great and my disgust borders on “would someone really pay for artwork from my uterine lining?” and “what kind of fucked up kinky bitch is this and when did she escape the mental institute?”