Friday, December 31, 2010

Last Post of 2010

First of all I would like to remind everyone that after tonight, we are all merely one year away from me claiming my rightful place as the Princess of the Leftover World.

Anyway, here is my Alpha and Omega - the first post in a long time and the last post of 2010: BannedCamp had a discussion thread concerning Facebook posts that cajole you into putting that you love Jesus in your status or you will be forever known as one of the 99.9999 percent of heathens on this planet who have access to a computer with Internet capability who won't put it in your status.  Because our omission or perhaps outright refusal to do so means that we DON'T love Jesus.

Is this a chain letter?  Am I going to have bad luck and get hit by a Greyhound - either a bus or a dog - if I don't?

Seriously people, it's like a virtual form of those "Honk if you love Jesus" bumper stickers - which I have always considered to be like Christian drive-bys, anyway.  People 3 lanes over don't know why you're honking, and oncoming traffic is clueless as well.  So people are recklessly Jesus-honking and only them and the car in front of them are in on it.  Besides, I'm not risking someone getting all road-ragey when I honk at you because A) you forgot that the sticker is back there and are just getting off of a long, frustrating day of work at the U.S. Postal Service or B) they have just stolen this car at gunpoint and they have no idea that the sticker is back there. 

So even though I walked out of church on Easter Sunday, and I converted a $10 auction pulpit into a bar in my backyard, here is what I will admit to: "I love Jesus, but I drink a little "

So then I decided to go and "friend" Jesus on Facebook or join the Jesus Facebook group or get the Jesus Facebook app so that it will show in my updates so that even though I have not put Jesus in my status, I am willing to allow Him to appear in my "feed." 

First, I typed Jesus in the search box on Facebook and the only two that I had a mutual friend with were Jesuses with Hispanic last names (the kind that are not GEE-SUS, but more like HEY-SEUSS) so I'm thinking that everyione who is posting this stuff about proving their Jesus-ness either knows a different Jesus than I do or they are lying about it.

There is a Facebook group called "Jesus Jesus Jesus" and I think I might know THIS one cuz I sang a song about him in vacation bible school from the time I was 4 (Sweetest name I know), so yeah,  it HAS to be him.  BUT it shows him with creepy Charles Manson looking eyes in the profile pic and  there are no mutual friends, there either.

I also know that it is NOT Charles Manson because Charles Manson has a Facebook page... which conveniently has a link at the bottom of the page where you can click to "Report This Person."

And I bet Charles Manson and I might actually have some mutual friends. 

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

You Know What's Funny?

Drop cheese whiz in the middle of a fat dog's back. 

Sunday, October 17, 2010

My Response to Some of Y'all's Facebook Secrets Answers

Here are the "secret questions" that various folks have answered about me on some Facebook application that will probably cause us all to get hacked and crash our computers with viruses.

I have decided to respond to each one because some of y'all don't get me AT ALL.

Is WTl's profile picture cute?
Yes At the moment it is the picture of me in my BMW with a tiara.  Of course it's cute. 
Do you think that WTP puts 'hoes' before 'bros'? Yes not alphabetically
Do you think that WTP can eat more than 3 Big Macs at a time? No Do I get fries with that?
Do you think that WTP is cute? No Yes  Obviously this answer was accidentally clicked - I fixed it.
Can WTP hold their liquor? Yes Are you freakin' kidding me?  After a certain point in the evening I can't even hold it with my hands!

BTW - who else's liquor am I holding? -- "their liquor"
Do you think that WTP has ever played strip poker? No no comment
Do you think that WTP would turn you in to the FBI if they asked? No Whatever it is, I was probably involved, too, so this answer has to be no. 
Do you think that WTP grinds their teeth while sleeping? No Again with the their. 
I envision me with a mortar and pestle and and evil laugh while the teeth of some dude named Edgar and his cousin Berenice fall out of a box. 
(obscure Poe reference - it made me laugh)
Does WTP have a nice smile? Yes Which is proof I don't grind my own teeth. 
Do you think that WTP has ever pranked call someone? Yes Maybe if they added "recently" to that. 

Nope.  Nevermind. I have.
Do you think that WTP would sell you out for $100k? No I don't know who answered this, but they obviously don't know how many bottles of vodka $100k would buy. 
Do you think that WTP is a good friend? Yes This was probably answered by the same person who thinks I wouldn't sell them out for $100k.
Do you think that WTP will do anything to get what they want? No I usually get what I want anyway.  I've never had to test this premise. 
Do you think that WTP spends more than an hour on facebook everyday? No I don't even spend that much time on my hair. 
Do you think that WTP can keep a secret? Yes Yes. 
Like I secretly think whoever took these quizzes is an idiot, but I don't tell anyone.
Do you think that WTPl has ever fantasized about you? No Obviously, this was not answered by Rick Springfield.
Do you think that WTP has ever taken money for a bribe? Yes Yeah. $100k. To sell you out. 
Do you think that WTP brushes their teeth regularly? Yes Even at school. 
Do you think that WTP has ever failed a class? No Secret: sleep with the professor. 
Do you think that WTPl is funny? Yes That's why you're here, isn't it
Do you think that WTP has ever mooned someone? Yes Was that YOU?????
Do you think that WTP scored above 1500 on the SATs? Yes Actually, no - but pretty dayum close.  That was the OLD scaled score, too! 
Do you think that WTP has ever gone hunting? Yes I'll take you.  We'll hunt for snipe.  That's what they use when they're training snipers, you know. 
Do you think that WTP wants to 'come out of the closet'? No My shoes are in there. 
Do you think that WTP has a good work ethic? Yes hahahahahahahaha!
Do you think WTP is cute? Yes Thank you, MyPoolBoy!
Do you think that WTP can eat more than 3 Big Macs at a time? No Who's been around me during PMS week?  Not this person. 
Do you think that WTP is annoying? No Someone who has never been around me when I'm drunk. 
Do you think that WTP is tone deaf but doesn't know it? Yes Well, NOW I do! 
Do you think that WTP has ever used steroids? No That's right...  My  once-a-month moodiness is in no way related to roid rage. 
Do you think that WTP is a sore loser? Yes Especially at strip poker. 
Do you think that WTPl sings Britney Spears aloud when no one is around? Yes And when other people are around. 
Do you think that WTP is an underachiever? No Seriously?  If you knew my IQ, this would be a resounding Yes. 
Do you think that WTP is a scrub? No Nor WILL I scrub.  My house is filthy. 
Have you ever had a crush on WTP? No Because MyPoolBoy would pummel you. 
Do you think that WTP thinks wine in a box is classy? No I KNOW that it is not classy.  You can't drink it if it is still IN the box!
That's why I pour it into a Mason jar to drink it.
Do you think that WTP is socially awkward? No I'm pretty much happy anywhere. 
Do you think that WTP is annoying? Yes Actually, I know that Lurch answered this one.  It showed me his profile pic.

You're grounded. 
Do you think that WTP is cute? Yes Thank you, Felix. 
Do you think that WTP thinks shopping at Wal-Mart is classy? Yes EVERYTHING is classy if you wear rhinestones while you do it. 
Do you think that WTP could shoot someone if they had to? Yes Or even if I didn't have to.
I might shoot someone for the h3ll of it. 
Do you think that WTP can run a mile without stopping? No WRONG.  Which is why when I chase you down to shoot you, I will catch you. 
Do you think that WTP has ever lied to you? No You're right.  I've never lied to you. 
Do you think that WTP cried while watching the Titanic No Cried from LAUGHTER! 
Do you think your first impression of WTP was right? Yes So that impression must have been fun, witty, outgoing, lovable - right?
Do you think that WTP has soft hands? Yes Because I don't do any work. 
Do you think that WTP has ever kissed a guy? Yes A guy?

Do you think that WTP has good credit? Yes If I had good credit, do you think I would be taking $100k bribes to turn people in to the FBI in order to buy vodka?

Monday, September 06, 2010


Here is the report that I had to send to the GrandMarshal this evening.  I wonder if the rat's name was Ben?

When I was leaving from dropping off my sub plans this evening (exiting the west door behind the cafeteria) I saw a BIG GIANT FREAKING NEW YORK CITY SEWER RAT running from the cafeteria across the sidewalk and out into the grass by Hyphen's window.

I am not exaggerating about it being a big giant freaking New York City sewer rat; as in, it was not a field mouse nor an escaped pet gerbil nor a shaved hamster.  It possibly could have been a malformed chihuahua or a possum that had been in some sort of nuclear accident.  At any rate, the campus cats are either falling down on the job and should be written up for neglecting their duties OR the campus cats have been EATEN by this big giant freaking New York City sewer rat.

I only surmise that he was from New York City because he was heading back north.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Running on Empty

Well  APPARENTLY the gas tank on Lucille is off by a quarter of a tank.

Because that's when it chugs and sputters to a complete halt. 

Also, I am metaphorically "out of gas" because it was a crazy day trying to see Thunderduck for a little bit for his birthday, rushing out to pick up Chunk from football (which is when I ran out of gas), then drove him back out to the stadium since MyPoolBoy had a class tonight. 
Creative Writing.   
He wrote some haiku. 

I am happily surprised to report that none of them have to do with fartlighting or power tools. 

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Sing a-Wrong

On Karaoke night of our Lucille trip to the coast, the KJ (DJ for karaoke, duh), would selfishly sing his very ownself in between all of the patrons' (our) requests.  It was ok until he made a stupid, fatal mistake.  Fatal as in - he killed the party mood.  Pretty sure that KJ was a local and just didn't get it.  The coastal wildlife bears a bit of explanation to fully understand the caliber of citizens that we encounter when we're down there.  In defense, it is entirely possible that there are other islanders who are NOT like this - but the establishments we tend to frequent and the sheer eccentricity of our collective personalities seems to draw an off-brand of human contact. 

The Lucilles had sung some of our usual fare to entertain the meager crowd, which consisted mostly of us and a few weird old dudes who had followed us from the two previous bars that we had visited.

These gentlemen did not include Santa Claus, who used some BS about hamburger helper as his attempted pick-up line.  A first for me.  Lucky for him/unluckily for me, I was drunk enough to actually engage in a conversation with him about hamburger helper and all its virtues, and coming from my white trash background, I had quite an extensive amount of knowledge on the subject that resulted in the conversation lasting for a rather lengthy time that implied interest.  Gawd help me.  

However, who DID show up was the waiter that Felix had made an impression on at the restaurant where we ate the previous evening (how? I don't know cuz she was bi+chy and rude as h3ll to him over the availability of a particular brand of beer, but she smiled cattily the whole time, so I am pretty sure that he mistook the smiling for attraction.)  He obviously had accrued too many dui's and/or didn't have a vehicle that ran and had followed us ON FOOT from bar to bar (he kept showing up much later than the other guys and by the time we got to karaoke we saw him and figured it out).   MyPoolBoy came down for the weekend and we stayed an extra couple of days and we actually saw him with a WOMAN walking across the street from our hotel.  Said woman had no teeth - not just bad dental hygiene habits with resulting gaps - NO TEETH as in, she must've left her dentures on the nightstand that morning - she was wearing no shoes - and she had her cut-off jeans unbuttoned AND unzipped.  Hand to GAWD.

Also present and accounted for was Phil.  Phil was there to sing, by golly.  And meet women, if the opportunity presented itself.  And he hadn't had enough to drink yet to steady his DT's, but that didn't keep him from erroneously thinking that our laughter was a sign of interest rather than the horribly inhumane, insensitive ridicule that it actually was.  Phil used the karaoke arena as his personal concert venue and moved about the bar like he was Tom Jones at the Vegas MGM Grand.  He walked up to Larva and put his hand on her shoulder as he sang to her.  Larva had made the mistake of looking especially cute that night in a little strapless dress which meant Phil's hand was on her BARE shoulder.  As soon as he walked away, she began screaming for someone to disinfect her.  Which we did.  Because for the first time in my life, I was in an establishment that had a huge pump dispenser of hand sanitizer right there on the bar. 

Can. Not. Lie. About. Shi+. Like. That.

So.  Karaoke evening had gone a little mild for my liking, and I elected to put in some songs in that would liven things up.  Larva got up and sang "Because I Got High" with me, and then I got a couple of girls to do "Hit Me With Your Best Shot."  This was followed by "PMS Blues."  We had a theme of girl-power going.  And that - THAT - is when the KJ made his fatal error.
He sang "Only Women Bleed" by Alice Cooper.  All of you under-40 somethings need to heed the following lesson in pop culture:  Alice Cooper is NOT a woman.  It was a guy and his band from the 70s who did some really good songs like "School's Out" which is a timeless classic, but also did some freaky shi+ like "Only Women Bleed."  Of course, it has to have been written and sung by a man because it stretches a testosterone-laden mind to have to get a meaningful or deep lyric into a song.  Basically, it goes
like this:
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah but only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed

Sure.  Let's sing this to a crowd of crowd of women who outnumber all the men in the bar and who have just been selecting such numbers as "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" and "PMS Blues." Clearly he was missing the point.  We are not the type of girls that are beneath using the men's room and leaving the seat down. Or putting a pantyliner in your tip jar. (Way to go newbieLucille - "Tipper" is your official blog name now!) 

Here's a clue, buddy --

Ask John Wayne Bobbitt if only women bleed.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

The Absolutely and Quite Possibly Completely Incoherent Ramblings of the White Trash Princess on a Random Wednesday Evening

Admonition, my pretties: There is no structure, reason, nor sequence to any of the following.  It is extremely probable that there will be multiple typos, misspellings, and grammatical errors, but Deep Eddy is my friend this evening, and so I'm in eff-it mode.

Just so you know.

Ok.  Now - Some news.  My Beemer sticky things came in today!  Basically these are pieces of vinyl pinstriping that aren't stripes, but triangular wedge-shaped (quarter circles) that go over the blue parts of the BMW logo and make it a different color.  And that color would be ...... PINK!!!!!!

Cute right?????

It's not the sparkly crystal ones, but it will do for now.  I got a set that covers the front emblem, the trunk emblem, and all four wheels.  It is adorable!!!!!!!!!!

I am well on my way to having this car be completely undrive-able by MyPoolBoy.  He can hide the pink trim on the black seat covers by sitting just right.  The pink sparkly "Princess" sticker on the front windshield isn't too obvious.  And I think he almost tolerates the Yield To The Princess bumper sticker that Striptease gave me.  Which incidentally is not only ON the bumper now, but is holding a crack on the bumper together, so it is off-center on the bumper but is for purely functional reasons. 

AND I got this precious little photo clutch that is black and white toile with a pink monogrammed initial on it to store my insurance and the extra vinyl wedges in -  THEN I got (at the liquor store - and you KNOW I cannot make that shi+ up....) a MATCHING black and white toile train case to keep in the trunk of the Beemer to store stuff like brake fluid, quarts of oil, leopard print duct tape, Beemer Glue (5-minute Epoxy from the car parts store that we relabeled as Beemer glue because shi+ keeps falling off and this stuff really holds it together pretty well), and all the parts that I am finding in the ashtrays and in the trunk and under the seat that I haven't yet identified but I strongly suspect will need to be reattached using the Beemer Glue.

And.  Before I forget... QueenB asked me the other day what my Beemer's name was.  I had never thought about it.  And it's one of those obvious things like my tramp stamp tattoo that took me three years to figure out what it should say and when I finally figured it out it was a "duh" moment.  At least this one didn't take that long.  Bi+chslap and I decided that the Beemer should be named - obviously - LUCILLE!!!!!!!!!!! 

In other news.... I am blogging for a friend who owns a home theater company (This is the link here).  It is my first "real" writing job that I am being paid for by any means other than scholarship money.  The beauty of this gig, my first "professional" writing, is that I negotiated to be paid in vodka.  CAN. NOT. MAKE. THIS. SHI+. UP.

 Also.  Went to lunch today with MyPoolBoy and Felix and Hyphen.  Went to the restroom and when I got out, I went to wash my hands and out of the other stall came a restaurant employee.  And SHE WALKED THE F&(K out of the stall after me and LEFT THE RESTROOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Did not wash her hands.  Well.  I bi+ched loudly and sat back down to finish my soda (I wasn't gonna EAT anything else!) and she must have had an Ex-Lax Blizzard from the Dairy Queen next door because she had to go to the restroom again before we left.  So I followed her.  I'm all stalkerish and shi+.  She must have known what I was doing because I didn't pee or anything and I sort of stood outside the door like some kind of creepy ax-murderess and waited for the water faucet to be turned on.  Which she DID this time because of my creepy ax-murderess stalker behavior.  Except there was no soap.  And I KNEW that because I had washed my hands in there before.  And she DIDN'T know that because she DIDN'T wash her hands in there before. 

Dear Blessed Mother of Sweet Fancy Moses.  I had all kinds of heart palpitations and pseudo-asthmatic near-panic attacks.  Almost choked on my Dr. Pepper.

So.  Tonight.  I spilled about a half a glass of tea on my lap.  I was wearing my ugly pants (they're actually cute turquoise and white and orange and green paisley pants, but because they have more than 2 colors on them, MyPoolBoy has deemed them as ugly) so the spill didn't really show.

At this point I decided I need to pee, also.  I commented out loud that I could just pee in the chair and no one would know because my pants and the chair were already wet from the tea.

Not a comment that was well-received by the other establishment patrons.

GAWD.  People are so SERIOUS. 

I also sat in an inservice today where the presenter was using Johnny Depp as an example of an actor that kids would identify with and since they had seen Pirates of the Caribbean, they would want to go see Alice in Wonderland, etc., etc.

no. shi+.

Look, people.  Pretty much if Johnny Depp was in the Bloodborne Pathogens training video we have to watch at the beginning of every year, I'd watch it (for a change).

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Stuck On You

Striptease left this fabulous bumper sticker for the convertible POS Princess Mobile in my box at school

Because there was not enough room to write "Back off, seriously dude, because the blonde behind the wheel is learning to shift a 5-speed and might roll backwards and kill you dead as she is driving while peroxidated."


MyPoolBoy found an app for his phone that basically turns his phone screen into a karaoke screen.  I mean, plays the music, has the words color-coded, tells you when there is a musical break -- the whole thing. 

Then he starts griping cuz some of the songs aren't working. 

Glass half-empty. 

I told him it doesn't matter - it is KARAOKE ON HIS FRIGGIN' PHONE.  Does he not realize how much fun that would be at a faculty meeting???? 

Glass half-full.  

Sunday, August 08, 2010


Due to her predisposition to run and cower on the bed and shake whenever someone new enters the house, Thunderduck's pet bull has earned a new nickname: BFGC (Big F~%*ing Giant Chihuahua). 

Now for some bad news:  the BFGC just ate the heel off of one of my Frederick's of Hollywood Beer Pong stilettos. 

Wednesday, August 04, 2010

I'm a Trophy Wife

I told MyPoolBoy this morning that he was my favorite person and that I loved him.  He just sort of grunted.  So I asked him if I was on his nerves and he said "not yet" - in other words, he had the full expectation that I was eventually going to be on his nerves so he was just answering as truthfully as he could at that particular moment in time.

I tried to continue the conversation by telling him that I tried really hard to fix myself up and look pretty for him like a trophy wife, and he actually agreed! 

Then he said that he would gladly taxidermy and mount my head and hang it on the wall next to whatever other big game trophies he could acquire through future deer hunts or safaris.

Sunday, August 01, 2010

Look Out!

BannedCamp has provided a good round of screeching laughter for me once again.

Just watch the video.  I posted this on QueenB's facebook so some of you are gonna get double-dipped, but y'all - "Hide yo kids, hide yo wife, hide yo husbands, cuz they raping everybody out here" 

Friday, July 30, 2010

Shameless AW Flaunt of My Semi-Middle-Class Status

I will warn you that this is a picture-heavy post and it is chock-full of confusing automotive terms that a highly-paid licensed professional auto mechanic won't even understand because I am basically making the terms up as I go along.

Just spent almost my entire extra summer school pay for the month of July on a 1993 BMW POS convertible that I can't drive.

Oh it's not that it doesn't RUN -- it runs beautifully....

I can't drive it because it is a standard and I don't know HOW to drive it. I was informed that it is a 5-speed. Which pretty much all that means to me is that it is a standard and I don't know how to drive it.

It fits my multiple personality disorder very well, because as you can see with the top up, it is a very cute little preppy-ish car.

The gear shift knob has the little "map" on it to show you where to move the knob to in order to shift gears, but it comes off sometimes. Especially if you are shifting wrong. Which for me, is actually more than sometimes.

MyPoolBoy offered to get me a new pretty little leather gear shift knob or an actual Beemer logo gear shift knob that would stay on no matter what sort of abuse it had to endure due to my ignorance, but it didn't have the "map" on it. So I am just going to have to learn how to shift without pulling the gear shift knob completely off the stick-thingy until I don't need the map anymore. Or get some superglue and glue the map one back down. Cuz if I got a Sharpie and drew my own map on a new pretty little gear shift knob, he'd probably get mad. Trust me. I KNOW him. He gets mad when I do shi+ like that.

But pretty much, since it is a convertible, I figure I don't even NEED to know how to drive it anyway because I can put MyPoolBoy in the driver's seat and I can sit on the back when the top is down and wear my tiara and be like the parade princess or homecoming queen ALL THE DAYUM TIME!

Which brings me to personality #2 - The Bimbo. This is definitely a bimbo car when the top is down.

Got it for 1/3 the original price that the guy wanted because I refuse to buy anything for full price. He was desperate. I had cash. Done deal.

Personality #3 - cheap white trash.

It is the first car I've ever had in my entire life that I got to pick out myself. So I am a bit annoying with it. EVERYONE has to see it! And I'll be the first to admit it is a POS. But it is a CONVERTIBLE POS so I don't care!!!!!!!!!!!! To me this is a HUGE step up from the mom-mobiles that I have disdainfully driven my almost-enough-for-my-own-basketball team gaggle of boys around in like an effed up locker-room-scented short-bus for the past 20-something years.

Personality #4 - midlife crisis.

The first thing we did was go get new keys made because the only key to my POS looked like this:

And you must use this key to open the passenger door, the trunk, and the gas tank.

Oh and you need it to start the car. So you must use it for the ignition too.

I don't know if you need it to open the glove compartment or not because the latch for the glove compartment is broken off so if it needs a key, I have absolutely no knowledge of that little detail.

You cannot use this key to open the driver's side door because the lock circle dealie on the driver's side is gone. The locking mechanism INSIDE still functions because you can unlock all the doors and the gas tank by turning the lock on the trunk key a certain way and you can hear the clicky noise when you turn it and the door handle does indeed refuse to open when the clicky noise is in the locked position.

So. We got new keys, which incidentally, did NOT come in pink, and the next thing we did was go pick up Felix and her ManHo. We drove around and Felix remarked that we needed it at the coast for a LucilleMobile. I agreed.

It is definitely a Thelma and Louise type of vehicle. We came to this conclusion while sitting in the back seat, enjoying the hair-tangling breezes with the top down.  The back seat upholstery had just been redone so it is very comfy (the guy was running out of money restoring this car, that's why he sold it so cheap).

Very obviously, the front seats have NOT just been redone.  Which means that I will have to buy some snazzy leopard print seat covers for the front seats.  We found some black ones with pink trim that were cute and all, but I think since the cracked dash is black and the rest of the interior is tan, the black and tan tones of leopard print will clash less. 

Felix and I then discovered that my next purchase needs to be duct tape. Because the speaker cover in the back seat came off while I was picking at it observing it.  

This picture was actually taken after Felix and I nearly peed all over the back seat upholstery from laughter and then we slammed it back into place hurriedly before MyPoolBoy got a chance to turn around and look and see what we were laughing at. 

Which brings me to the next thing.....

 MyPoolBoy attempted to adjust the rear-view mirror in order to see what we were laughing at in the back seat that made us nearly pee all over the back seat upholstery, and this happened: 

So now I need some sort of special epoxy gluey crap to put the mirror back onto the windshield.

Because now there is nothing from which to hang my pink fuzzy dice. 

This also reminds me - there are no visors coming down from the windshield either, so I am not real sure how anyone expects me to put my mascara and lip gloss on in the car on the way to work every day.

Plus MyPoolBoy informed me that I have to use one of my hands to shift gears or some shi+ so I can't put makeup on while I'm driving.  How is THAT supposed to work?????????  

We drove it over so Felix's niece could see it because we needed a break because our a$$es were sweating and sticking to the leather seat and Felix's niece laughed hysterically at the fact that I bought a car that I couldn't even drive.  Then she asked me if the air conditioning worked.  I honestly don't know.  I have pretty much had the top down since we got it and I'm not gonna run the a/c with the top down.

Cosmetically, the top is in remarkable condition for a 17-year old car.  The back window will never be adorned with stickers touting ANYONE'S football position or basketball jersey number because this is NOT A MOM CAR.  

Not that I could stick anything on the back window right now anyway.  One reason is that the clear bendy plastic window stuff that goes in the back window was in the process of being replaced and the guy HAS the clear plastic bendy stuff, we just have to go pick it up and get it put in.

The tires are in good shape.  The seat belts all work.  Which is good I guess.  The only additional safety feature that I have added is this:

SPF 45 - MyPoolBoy really needs to wear a hat when driving a convertible.

Oh.  One more thing ---

This little square piece of black plastic crap is hanging off the front bumper from a little thin piece of black plastic crap  -- Does anyone know what it is??????????

Thursday, July 29, 2010

How to Mortify Your Son at a Bar

I excitedly got two of Thunderduck's friends to go out the back door of our latest hangout and check out my new-to-me car (convertible Beemer = NOT a MOMCAR & I will try to post a pic later).

On the way out the door, some dude coming back from the bathroom saw us leaving together and said "Hey, two to one - that's kind of unfair"

I shot back: "It's ok - I'm TWICE their age so it evens out."

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Another TMI Post Punctuated with Some WTHIWWY

MyPoorPoolBoy. He is enduring quite a bit of mouth-runneth-over syndrome this evening, and I'm really pretty sure it is because I have discovered this:

Deep Eddy Sweet Tea Vodka

Now, due to my effed-up precocious predisposition to developing kidney stones since the medically unrealistic age of 26, I am not supposed to have tea. So basically, I am risking my renal health to even be in the same room with this shi+.

It's iced tea with Imperial Pure Cane Sugar, so it's pretty much the mostest absolutely perfectest Texas beverage ever made.


Because someone who is obviously a freakin' genius put VODKA in it.

If that genius is a man, he can get in line to be my 3rd husband.

Anyway, here are my epiphanies for the evening -

1) While watching the Gene Simmons episode where Shannon has a taser party (basically it was about like it seems like it would be - a Tupperware party but without the trademark burping noises and more like a lot of buzzing and resulting screaming, so you know, like a dark and serious sex toy party) - I remarked that you really wouldn't want to get one of those and just toss it into your vibrator drawer.

2) I reminded him that I am more or less branded as his property with my tramp stamp because the wording includes an APOSTROPHE and an S after his name. Like a white trash luggage tag or something.

3) Then I got a horrific case of projectile diarrhea and I tried to explain the severity of the situation to MyPoolBoy by describing its force and magnitude to him with Richter scale measurements and tornadic F-force ratings. I included the comment that it was a good thing that toilet bowl sides go up kind of far (for obvious reasons) and I was reminded about a German word that I concocted at the beach - bierschitz - in honor of the 2 straight nights of Lone Star consumption and the 2 subsequent days of unfortunate bowel circumstances that I incurred.

4) Not only that but I also came back from the coast with a fever blister on my lower lip. And of course I KNOW where I got it.

Because the study of reptiles is called herpetology, y'all.

That's right.

The a$$hole beer-hostage-taking SNAKE gave me herpes.

Hisssssss-teria at the Beach House

That circled speckled brown spot next to the Solo cup is a snake. A RATTLE snake. A 2-1/2 foot long rattlesnake that was sunning himself beside the house where we were staying at the beach. Next to the only stairs that could take us down to the lower level where our beer coolers were stored. So pretty much this a$$hole snake held all our beer hostage while we were stranded on the second story deck for about an hour. So we were stranded on the second story deck for about an hour by an a$$hole 2-1/2 foot long rattlesnake that was holding our beer hostage. Do you understand this? WE HAD NO WAY TO GET TO OUR BEER!!!!!!!!!!! And really, snakes don't have thumbs to get a cold one out of the cooler and toss up to us either, if they were ever so inclined to do so. But he somehow didn't seem like a friendly neighborhood bartender variety of rattlesnake anyway.

So. After we called the property management people and waited about 30 minutes - WITHOUT BEER - I ventured out onto the deck stairs in the very fashionable wardrobe choice of a stars and stripes bikini with the hastily added safety feature of lizard-toed Nocona cowboy boots to snap this picture. And then and there realized I was on the stairs in a bikini and cowboy boots so my cheese had pretty much slid right off my Ritz, and this realization prompted me to decide that it was time to call 911.

So. Barney Fife showed up and got the bright idea to MACE the snake.

Now, if you were a snake and you got maced while you were trying to hold a bunch of middle-aged women's beer hostage, what would you do?

Get pissed and come after Barney right?


But, in his defense, Barney did get him to crawl out onto the lawn where he could mace him some more and spray him with the water hose. Which made the snake more pissed. Then, 30 minutes later, he hit upon the bright idea to get a shovel and actually KILL THE A$$HOLE BEER-HOSTAGE-TAKING SNAKE!

Finally! Crisis over. Beer saved.

Monday, July 26, 2010


After my post this past weekend about one-legged birds and safe words, MyPoolBoy expressed his usual mortification at my unusual spin on life with his usual "What The Hell Is Wrong With You?" comment. He pointed out that I can't even use my "VodkaMakesMeSayStuff" label for these sorts of posts because I am just sick enough to come up with this shi+ when I am stone-a$$ sober. So he assumes there is no explanation for why my brain is working that way other than I must have some sort of mental defect.

Therefore, I have added "WTHIWWY" to my labels for future posting, and I will be adjusting some of my former posts to include this label.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Safety First

When the Lucilles were at the beach the other day, we saw this bird skittering around kinda awkwardly. Like he was off-balance cuz he was one-legged or something. As he got closer we noticed that he was, indeed, off-balance cuz he was one-legged. Actually he was one-and-a-half-legged. One of the girls got all PETA-ish and started feeling sorry for it and wondered out loud what could have happened to the missing lower portion of its fractional leg.

There were plenty of theories: bird fight (cage match? BWAHAHAHAHAHA), run over by one of those little golf cart thingies that people drive all over the beach, bitten off by a predator, accidentally smashed with a rock, purposely smashed with a rock by an unsupervised little shi+ kid, farm-implement incident that required emergency amputation.

And my theory. He gnawed it off himself. Because he was a dirty bird who was into S&M and bondage and discipline-role-playing and he got strapped down forgot the safe word (hello? cracker? pretty bird?) and was unable to get himself free because his mate got distracted by something shiny or some tourist throwing Alka Seltzer to make the birds blow up or was dodging rocks being thrown by an unsupervised little shi+ kid.

At least he got the drumstick.

Now. This got me thinking that, although MyPoolBoy and I are not into any of that WEIRD crap to get our kicks, we do have an understanding of sorts that could be construed as a "safe word."

That word is OW.

As in "OW, get off my hair" and "OW, who left the remote control on the bed" and "OW, you need to cut your toenails."

Tuesday, July 20, 2010


I was attempting to demonstrate my physical prowess to the Lucilles while we were at the beach this afternoon. So I took my empty beer can and placed it between my thighs to crush it. Which, incidentally I was able to accomplish and pass the resulting aluminum pseudo-disk over to Felix for a souvenir. Isn't that impressive?

Not as impressive as the surprisingly round and symmetrical dueling bruises that I now have on the inner area of my legs just above the kneecaps.

This is an Identifiable Party Wound.

Sunny Beaches

Day 1 of the 5th edition of Lucilles at the Coast. I have already had some fabulously brilliant vodka-induced ideas and observations. Like my beach chair, which was originally tan, but I deemed it necessary to paint pink and green and stuff because I cannot be normal. I love this chair because it has a zippered storage compartment on the back, a little pillow headrest, a cupholder and cell phone holder on the side, and a COOLER at the back.

Ok. So. Onto my brilliant ideas and observations. First - I think a bikini top that was made all boxy and weird so that it looks like the block-out bars on the tv when they don't want to show a girl's girls would be so cool.

Before we left - we saw a lady with this pvc pipe contraption that was supposed to form a hole in sand to get some sort of wildlife to come to the surface. I thought it looked like one of those p3nis pump things that they sell at adult toy parties.

We lucked into unbelievably awesome beach and weather conditions. As we were wading out into the water, drink-in-hand-tiara-on-head, I realized that my bathing suit bottoms were on inside out and I was forced to devise a plan on how to get the seams righted to the intended factory specifications. So, as I waded further into the waves, I traversed just far enough to cover myself from my newly pierced belly button down with the ocean as my camouflage. Then I handed DownUnder my drink, and asked Hyphen to hold my hair while I squatted down and turned my bikini bottom back the right side out underneath the surf - only pausing to raise my drawers above the water level enough to make sure that I was at least not putting them on BACKWARDS after going to all the trouble to get them back on correctly.

Quote of the day: DownUnder commented in her eloquent Aussie accent that it was "lovely" and that "the water is the exact temperature of pee."

Sunday, July 11, 2010


Just told MyPoolBoy that I was crazy about him.

Then I told him that actually I was just crazy, but I disguise it as being crazy about him so that it appears more socially acceptable.

On the Side

I love prescription drug commercials. More specifically, I love prescription drug commercial side effect disclaimers. Ok. Frankly what I love is making FUN OF prescription drug commercial side effect disclaimers. Like, the ones that say "serious side effects may occur, including death."

Ummmmm...Yeah. I'll take "death" for 2000, Alex. Dude are you so hurtin' to get it up that you would risk DEATH???????????? Just get some porn and a popsicle stick and yarn to make a splint. Or get a girl to deep-throat a popscicle while you watch and then you can use the popsicle stick as a splint when she's done.

Anyway - I heard a great one last night. Side effects included blurry vision, slurred speech, inability to focus, dizziness, and more frequent urination.

Really, that just sounds like Wednesday night poker to me.

Friday, July 09, 2010

Holy Impropriety, Batman

We're watching this investigative news show and the mistress of this preacher said that he seduced her by counseling with her and holding her hand and telling her that he wanted to pray with her.

MyPoolBoy said that was one way to get her on her knees.

It wouldn't work with me. I'd get down there and get sidetracked and start cleaning out from under the bed or something...

Thursday, July 08, 2010


KY has these new sensational body syrups or wtf ever advertised on tv right now - chocolate for her and strawberry for him. And it's supposed to make everything about my marital relations be more than I ever could have hoped for. Or something like that.

I told MyPoorGulliblePoolBoy that we should get some and he, being a boy, got all excited and is like "yeah, yeah, we should."

And then I told him I thought it would taste really good on ice cream.

Navels and Nasals

So. Another Felix and WTP bonding moment. Got my navel pierced today. Felix got her nose pierced. Of course we had to be together to do it because we are like middle school cheerleaders when it comes to defacing our temples (bodies) and we can't do anything by ourselves like big girls. MyPoolBoy and her niece (whose boyfriend owns a bar - this is important for later) came along with her little boy, HomeSkillet, for the free laughs. We had to lay back on a weight bench during the process (literally, it was a weight bench) and I was thinking, hmmmmm.... this is what it feels like to be a popular high school cheerleader.....

Anyway. She swung her feet while the guy was doing it - the PIERCING gutterbrains - (mostly because she is short and her feet don't reach the floor from the bench that she was laying on) so it ended up looking like someone had rolled a really cute Oompa Loompa turtle on its back and it couldn't get off its shell in order to set itself aright and resume the regularly scheduled Oompa Loompa turtle programming. And when he actually DID pierce her nose she started to tear up and there was blood and so she asked for a kleenex. And then, while the blood ran down the little canyon beside her diamond-doodad thingy, Felix took the kleenex and dried her eyes so that her mascara wouldn't run! Priorities. We have to be pretty first.

Then, she kept making me laugh and I was worried that the guy would miss and I would be all crookedly-navel-pierced or pierced in an ovary or my appendix or something and then be scarred physically and emotionally for the rest of my natural born life because of it. And there was NO VODKA so it wouldn't have even been funny at the time.

When we went to pay out we noticed the "cash-only" sign and Felix was standing there, credit card in hand and trying to devise a plan for how to obtain cash to pay for everything without risking a repossession of her new nasal embellishment or risking charges from the vice squad for questionable "business negotiations." So MyPoolBoy paid for them both and reminded us that I hadn't paid Felix for the rest of my beach trip, so we'd put the cost of the piercing towards the cost of the beach trip. And THAT transaction - trading a piercing for a vacation deposit - is a wildly white-trash moment of which I am exceedingly proud, I must say.

At this point, HomeSkillet tugged his mom's sleeve and handtogawd in front of the tattoo artist/piercing guy asked, "Mom, are we going to the bar after this?"

Fits of laughter. And just when we were thinking that it couldn't get any more white trash than getting piercings together and having the cost be bartered between friends, Felix's niece decides to join in on the fun and get a Marilyn Monroe piercing above her lip. She asked the guy what they did it with, meaning which studs did she have to choose from - but he was already sinking to our level and he told her "a rusty nail." More fits of laughter.

So she got done and left and texted Felix because she forgot what her aftercare instructions were. Felix and I completely relished the opportunity to relay this message:
1) get a soft drink with some ice in it and move the ice around by her upper lip to help reduce swelling
2) Rinse the area with Listerine after eating or drinking
3) no wine or BEER because of the yeast!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!! I said that would kill her - like a castration of sorts - but h3ll, it would be better than getting a yeast infection in your upper lip, right? And I used the opportunity to clarify with the guy that I could still have all the beer and wine that I wanted.
4) the stud could be replaced with a new one in two weeks
5) No French kissing or other "oral activities" for 6 weeks HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Then Felix and me both said that would kill her boyfriend!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wednesday, July 07, 2010

Heads Up

Well. I was in bi+ch mode tonight. I know, big surprise, right? One of the more annoying poker players showed up sporting a baseball cap tonight. This was unusual and noticeable simply because he regularly shows up with an overly-coiffed Brylcreemed style of obviously fake strawberry gray atop his noggin. I wanted to prove it to myself and any other morbidly curious onlookers that the pink chia pet was not present with us for the evening and therefore by default was NOT underneath the hat. So. I concocted a brilliantly evil scheme to achieve this purpose: I sent Thunderduck to the jukebox with a single dollar bill and explicit instructions to play the National Anthem. When the "oh say can you see" started I loudly instructed the boys to take off their hats out of patriotism and respect. DapperDan lifted his hat for about a millisecond before scooting out the front door for a ciggy break. So we never actually got a good look for a confirmation of my suspicions.

But I died laughing anyway. Cuz I'm a bi+ch.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

You Know What?

They have these handrails in public bathrooms. So that when you have had 3 beers and are attempting to "hover" so that you don't get preggers or catch an STD from the toilet seat you can catch yourself before you fall. Wasn't that nice of them?

Thunderduck is trying to ignore me. He is NO FUN.

The Crazies Invent a Sport

I work with some extremely crazy people. Not a big surprise since you have to be crazy to hang with me anyway, but this time I laughed SO HARD. Dehydration laughing. Cuz you are peeing and crying from laughing and you lose all your bodily fluids from both ends and get dehydrated and have to go get more beer.

We were at StripTease's house and Duckit and Felix and I were all sitting on the couch and MyPoolBoy was across the room in a recliner trying his d@mnedest to ignore us as we were laughing and snorting on the couch over stupid stuff. First of all, StripTease had a chili pepper pinata hanging from the rafters of her back patio which overlooks the golf course. (This is important for later) Since Duckit and I have been white-trashing up our hallway and classroom doors for the last two weeks (leis, mardi gras beads, feathers, glittery posters), and we plan to continue to do so NEXT week (only worse - fuzzy dice, Nascar flags, etc.), we immediately had the same thought: we need that! We said it at the same time and fell into fits of hilarity which incited an exaggerated eye-roll from the recliner. We figured it would be the culminating decoration would be this glorious pinata after we put up balloons, then a flamingo windsock, then chili pepper lights. StripTease said we couldn't have it. She knows we're up to no good. Then Duckit and I decided that we should go and buy our own anyway - a multi-colored BURRO/jacka&& one - it would be funnier anyway! Duckit also mused out loud if there was a way that we could rig it to attach to our door handles so that when we opened and shut the door it would raise up and down! More fits of laughter from the couch. More eye-rolls from the recliner.

Then we got into a discussion about pets because I was telling Felix about our rabbit, Al, that she gave to me after she rescued it from her dogs. I started explaining the zoo at my house to Duckit and when I got to the description of the lizard that we used to have I told her that I had to call the campus secretary one time and tell her that I needed someone to cover my morning duty because I was running late because the lizard got out and was in the a/c vents and we had to catch him before we left because we were scared Wild Kingdom would go down in our house cuz the cats would stalk and eat him while we were gone and we didn't even have that Jim guy to call the play by play and catch it all on film for posterity. That reminded Felix of the most ridiculous call to work she ever had to place: her dog was raped.

Felix then begins to explain the scenario to us about how she once had this little cocker spaniel in a fenced-in area of her yard. The neighbor's German shepherd jumped the little picket fence and got frisky with her (you know what I mean). Ok. Wait. The German shepherd got frisky with the cocker spaniel, not Felix.... just had to clarify that pronoun antecedent. Anyway. They got busy. As busy as dogs get. And then it was canis coitus interruptus when Felix went out the back door to yell at them to stop. (Did you see all that Latin? Aren't you impressed? It's not even PIG LATIN). So back to the dog rape. When Felix yelled at them to stop, they didn't. And the cocker spaniel was still "attached" to the German shepherd. And the German shepherd got scared and jumped the fence.

With Felix's cocker spaniel still in tow.

Over the fence.


Attached to the German shepherd.

So then Felix had to go catch them and separate them and take her dog to the vet to get a doggy abortion so Felix was late for work that day.

Again - fits of uncontrollable drunken dehydration laughter from the couch and annoyed eye-rolls from the recliner.

And then the "sports" began. A couple of the Ethels found some wiffle-golf balls and golf clubs. And they invented "Dodge Golf." And Dodge Golf is exactly what it sounds like. Take a bunch of your drunkest friends. Procure wiffle-golf balls and golf clubs. Line up across from each other in Napoleonic warfare juxtaposition. Hit golf balls at each other. Laugh uncontrollably.

You know what they say...

It's always funny until someone gets hurt.

Then it's hilarious.