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 lungs—and 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.

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.

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. 

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.

"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?”

Eight things you'll wish I had kept to myself

Everyone is doing that number thing where they list off things you may not know about them. My friend Jennay of What I Really Meant to Say decided to do her own thing where she listed things that you may NOT WANT to know. Her list of 7 things was fucking awesome so I'm going to see if I can top it. My number is 8:

1. I like to pop pimples. There's some satisfaction in getting the hard white thingy out or pushing out the puss until it bleeds. I'll pop mine and I like to find them on Dickhead's back. Sometimes he may not really even have one, but I'll try to pop it anyway just to hear him cry out like a pussy.
2. I have a fake toenail. The real one was ripped out by a rowdy little fucking kid when he barreled through a store door, which I was entering. My beautiful pedicure was on display with gorgeous new sandals. My big toe was caught by the bottom of the door, ripping the nail and nail bed free of my toe. So now I have a fake one that I have to get filled and replaced just like fake fingernails. 
3. I do Kegels every other day. Doing the exercise turns me on. I'm pretty sure my vajayjay muscles are strong enough to pick up a bowling ball. 
4. Taking a shit is an event for me. I hole up in the bathroom with a book, iPad or my phone. Sometimes I text updates to friends on how it's going...or not going. A particularly raunchy shit fills me with pride and I like to let my closest friends know. 
5. I got my first glimpse of porn at a slumber party in 2nd grade. My friend proudly showed us what she caught her older brother watching. It was pretty disgusting. I'm fairly certain that was the first time I saw Ron Jeremy and afterward I thought all men were hung like a donkey.
6. When I make a sandwich the mustard has to be on one slice of the bread and the mayo on the other slice. My cheese has to be on the same side as the mayo. If you make me a sandwich where the mustard is touching the cheese then I won't eat it. 
7. I really enjoy picking my nose. I always have and always will. I have never eaten a booger though. If I don't have a tissue to wipe it on then I'll roll it up and flick it. 
8. I seriously heart REO Speedwagon and Wilson Phillips. Go ahead and judge me. I don't care. 

Now you know 8 utterly un-fascinating things about me. Feel free to share your weird shit, too.

Parent of the Year Award...stomp it out!

Little Shit, Baby Shit and I were on the floor where I was reading a book to them. Apparently Baby Shit found the book boring because she got up and started marching around, playing with dolls and doing some more marching. I was focused on reading the book, and the racket she made became that droning noise in the background that parents associate with another child talking but block it out.

Dickhead came out of the kitchen and asked if I was listening to what Baby Shit was saying. Of course not, but I tuned in at that. The droning noise became.... "Sonovabitch! *stomping feet as Baby Shit marched* ...SonnnnovaBITCH! ...Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp*

Dickhead and I stared at one another with our eyes bugging out of our heads. Of course Nana walked in on the loudest "SONOVABITCH!"

I covered my face with the book and tried to smother my giggles. Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp*

Little Shit kept trying to pull the book down and finally asked me if I was laughing because the book was funny. That threw me into a giggling fit.

"Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp*

Dickhead finally distracted Baby Shit and the Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp* train ended. When I lowered the book and uncovered my face Nana was glaring at me. WTF? Like I'm the only one that says 'Son of a bitch!' in our household.

Nana: "Well, she sure does have some colorful language. Just the other day I said 'shit' and who do you think repeated it?" Another glare.

Me: "Well, shit, if you stopped cussing all the damn time maybe my girls wouldn't have the vocabulary of a fucking sailor."

Baby Shit: "SHIT!" Of course that earned me another glare.

In related news, I've already opened my first wine bottle of the day.