Tanning bed complexities

After burning my pink taco to a crisp tanning in the nude last spring I decided to try something new this spring - wearing panties while tanning. No, not full blown grannies, but a thong. I thought I'd give my lady bits some coverage to protect them.

However, I hate...let me repeat this...I fucking HATE having tan lines. Not to mention that most of my thongs are lace which leaves some funky ass lines. Luckily I realized this before making that mistake. But that means I have only a few pairs of sexy-ish undies that will leave minimal white space. The real fucking aggravation is that they all sit at different spots on my hips. @&#%@* So basically I have to wear the same goddamn pair of panties every few days in order to keep my lines consistent.

During this process I've also realized a few things:

1. The tan lines only around my veej are kinda hot. I'm not gonna lie, it makes me feel like a porn star. I get to feel like a lady on the street but then come home, strip down and with only veej tan lines I feel like a freak in the bedroom. 
2. The white stripe up/between my ass cheeks is annoying as fuck. 
3. #2 raises a whole other issue - when I part my butt cheeks and check my fine ass out in the mirror (that's normal, right?) I feel like my asshole looks dirty against the white skin against the tan lines. 
4. #3 raises the complex issue of 'should I consider anal bleaching?' After all, Dickhead doesn't want to see a dirty bunghole while tapping that doggy style. 
5. The glaringly white skin that isn't tan is a little too white. Now I'm thinking about tanning my white twat to make it a little less 'white'. This is getting complicated.

And don't even get me started on how uncomfortable it is to tan in a muthafucking thong. Let's be real here, everything sweats in a tanning bed. The twat and ass region sweat like a whore in church on Sunday. Guess what happens between your ass cheeks..that's right. Sweat. And where is your thong? Buried in the crevice of your ass gathering sweat. The panties basically need to be wrung out after removal because they are soaked. Are you grossed out yet? Yeah, well ZFG. It's fucking reality.

I've learned to take a second pair of undies to change into after sweating. But what do you do with the soaking panties? Yep, put them in a ziplock baggie and hide those muthafuckers in your purse. That kind of resolves the sweaty ass crack issue.

Forgetting to remove said ziplock baggie from your purse can cause issues. I was at work and a coworker stopped me in the lobby to chat. I reached into the cavernous Coach bag (earned by my infamous Coach Bucks/Rewards program with Dickhead) to pull out a friend's business card. In doing so the baggie dropped on the ground. Right at our feet. Before I could stop him, my coworker leaned over to pick it up. As he handed the baggie to me recognition dawned on his face and he turned bright red.

Goddamn are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck did I do to deserve this shit! I can only be thankful that 1) the undies weren't ratty and 2) the baggie didn't bust open, spilling out the crotch sweat rot stank that surely had festered within.

Moral of the story - fuck saving my taco from a little burn. This shit is not worth it.

Thirteen years ago life shit all over me

Tween Shit is no longer! She's 13 muthafuckin' years old now. Bend me over and ass fuck me with a rake because I have a feeling that would be less painful than the upcoming teen years.

13 years ago my crotch fruit sprang forth from my veej. Well, actually she was cut out of my stomach, but you get the idea. 13 years ago my life was forever changed when I brought that sweet little baby that resem...bled a wrinkled old man home from the hospital...where she projectile vomited and squirted runny shit all over me.

13 years ago + the pregnancy months of which the first trimester was pure hell with horrible morning sickness, my weekends of binge drinking and dancing on the bar tables became me fumbling through the darkened hallway to stuff a sore nipple into the crying asshole's mouth.

13 years of my life that I wouldn't trade for anything. Except now that TEEN Shit has arrived, I question if the parental shit can be reversed. Obviously I can't shove Tween back into my vaginal opening - she didn't rip out of it so there's no way I'd attempt shoving anything like that back up there - but maybe I can be excused from the following years and re-enter when she's graduating college.

Where the fuck is my magic lantern....and no Dickhead, you can't convince me that rubbing your dick will make a genie appear to give me a wish that's granted when his magic juice explodes. That's how I got in this predicament 13 years ago with my ex-asshole.

Happy Birthday, TEEN Shit. Here's to many more awesome fucking memories. Give your dad all the hell. Mmmmkay?

Was my casket selfie tasteless? Zero Fucks Given

We buried my 102 year old Grandma today. As my little sister and I stood there at the open casket, talking and with tears running down our cheeks, I commented on how beautiful Grandma looked. Then I pointed to the bright red polish the funeral home had painted on her nails.

"Grandma would never have worn that color. She'd have said it's reserved for harlots...while looking pointedly at my hands."

My little sister sniggered and quickly covered it up so family members wouldn't get offended.

Then I asked, "Would it be inappropriate for me to get a selfie with Grandma?"

My sister turned to me with a horrified and indignant look on her face. And then her mouth started quivering. I thought "oh hell, she's actually pissed." And then she busted out laughing.

We fell into each other, hugging and laughing and crying. I'm sure everyone thought we were insane. But guess how many fucks I gave. That's right! Zero.

After a quick glance around the room I stepped up to the casket, leaned over to Grandma and pulled my cell phone out for a selfie. I had to take a couple to get the right angle.

When I turned back to the room I noticed my 25 year old nephew watching me with a strange expression on his face. I walked over and asked him if he thought I was weird for taking a selfie with our Grandma's corpse. He replied that it would only have been weird if I'd posed her hands first in a peace sign or gang symbols.

So I asked, "Then it's cool that I arranged her hands into 'I love you' in sign language?"

To which he roared with laughter.

It's awesome when family members understand you.

I love you, Grandma! RIP but give them hell.


Now, here are some selfies at inappropriate places



Looks the most like the one I took of me and my Grandma

Found at Selfies at Serious Places

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.

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.

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.