Forgotten Christmas Post

Mini Dutch Ovens

I got up this mornin' to go huntin' with my boyfriend, put on my coveralls and let out a fart.
That sun of a bitch lingered like an uninvited party guest . I accidentally gave myself a mini dutch oven and felt like I smelled like farts all day.
Aside from that, today was in fact my first time to go hunting with THIS particular boyfriend. (If I smelled like stewed toots, nobody said anything.)
We didn't see a single deer all day (except for the one that ran by the camp house while we were eating), but we had fun running dogs and mud riding. Some of the men from his huntin' club brought their little boys along and they are just hilarious to watch. One of the little boys thought I was the most amazing woman he'd ever met, simply because I carried a knife AND candy in my pocket. It almost made me want to have one. Except... I prefer my vagina nonstretched and my tits at their current elevation.

Read A Book, Asshole.

I took my dog to the vet.
I came home with my dog...plus three cats.
The veterinarian, who is supposed to love and SAVE the lives of animals, was going to put them to sleep if no one took them.
So I took them, eye infections and all. I have to doctor their eyes twice a day and one of them has a mysterious "fungus" on its tail. Fungus probably translates to "the mange" but it's fixed now.
And who cares if it never grows back. You never know when the rat tail will come back in style.
I named ol' bald tail "Boo" and my boyfriend asked if I meant Boo as in the term black people use to which I replied "Boo Radley. Read a book, asshole".
I've been cursing him a good bit lately. It could have something to do with the fact that I'm having to compete with his other mistress, deer hunting. I will be glad when hunting season is over.
It's like competing with a really ugly chick and not being able to understand why you're still not being picked when you so clearly have a better rack.
I guess a rack with two points is always overlooked for one with eight.

Loving Coversations

With Mom:

"How come you didn't get out of the house yesterday?"
"I have days where it is best if I don't hear, see or speak to anyone"
"What the hell kind of attitude is that"
"I call them my 'bi-polar days'"
"Bi-polar my ass."
"It's real easy to pass judgment there isn't it, Captain Zoloft"


With The Boyfriend:

"Are you wearing fake eyelashes?"
"Maybe."
"Take them off. You look like Phyllis Diller"
"...She was gorgeous, you bastard."

I don't smoke, do I?

Smoking is a habit I never picked up.
Cursing I do quite a bit of. Hair twirling...well, let's just say I have bald spots & short spriggly bits all over my head.
I even suck my tongue, but smoking I don't do. I used to smoke a cigar here and there, but only because I was trying to get the Mad Dog 20/20 taste out of my mouth .
Anyway, at 6:30 this morning I let my dog out, sat down on my front porch steps and thought
God, I need a cigarette.
It was as if I momentarily channeled my great aunt Irene. I even checked to make sure my teeth were still there and that I wasn't missing any toes. (long story)
I wonder what this means for me. I would rather have the habit of eating dog shit.
At least then I'd get a vitamin or two.

Food Network

Food Network has got it goin' on.
They've conjoined two of men's favorite things: women and food. They even have good ol' Paula Dean for men with a mommy complex. I'm not sure who the crap gets turned on by Barefoot Contessa, but she's married so obviously there's a market.
I switched on the Food Network earlier today whilst eating my Ready-made tuna salad in a can.
Sometimes I pretend I'm eating whatever they're making...to make whatever I'm eating seem less pathetic. Instead of tuna in a can with mysterious red 'n green bits, I theoretically ate seared steak, potatoes cooked in tasty lookin' brown stuff and a french pastry.
Aside from food, I noticed that all the women on these shows are either cute, cute with big boobs or, well, just have big boobs.
Dudes are totally watchin' this channel now. AND getting off on it.
"Oh yea baby, stir that Prosciutto"
I bet there are some guys that watch the food channel until their women get home and then they switch to ESPN and put a pillow in their lap. You know, the same guys that secretly watch Golden Girls and Supermarket sweep.
You know who you are.

Asphincter Says What?

I awoke this morning to the not-so-pleasant scent of dog shit. My puppy, Luke, took it upon himself to eat a dead mouse. Whole. In one gulp. As it turns out, that is not the best possible digestive decision a dog can make. A particularly unlucky decision if you factor in the possibility that said mouse was dead due to rat poison. Poor Luke was marinating in what one can only assume was a concoction of pee, poop and vomit. All I know for certain is, I will never eat sausage again.
Cleaning up messy puppy cage & scrubbing messy puppy until he is clean puppy with mysterious bald spots is not the best way to start a morning.
The best way a person can start a morning would be to wake up with fresh breath, hit all green lights on the way to work and actually make it there with matching shoes...and your own underwear. (ever put on someone else's underwear on accident?disturbing)
Anyway, waking to the smell of dog poo is a fairly good indication that one's day will not go well. And one's didn't.
I'll say it's been an odd day.I had to converse with people that scare the bajeebus outta me.
These two women I was forced, by my mother, to speak with give off this creepy "I was left in the closet for days at a time" vibe. Kind of a Carrie-Sybil mix and when you talk to them they stare through you....right down to your soul.
Tomorrow better be all ponies and sunshine or I'm going to carve someone a second sphincter using a set of keys and a tack hammer.

My Night With The Oaks

Heavens & Sakes! Last night I went to the concert of a life time!
While other 23 year olds were out, doing whatever normal 23 year olds do, I was gettin' down with The Oak Ridge Boys. My 50 yr. old buddy, NiNi, and I traveled all the way up to Corinth, MS to see the men I've had a sick, twisted music crush on for years. On the way up, I was airing out Ni's Sunfire and thought I missed my exit. She had the friggin' window down in 30 degree weather, puffin' on a death stick and between shakes she said "Emmy...I hope we didn't miss our exit... I don't want to end up in Arkansas."
If you didn't think that was funny. Get a map.
Anyway, I'm not even sure what song they were crankin' out when we went down and shook their hands. I was too busy thinking "holy crap" and trying not to take one. If I was that excited to meet the Oak Ridge Boys then I sure hope Jesus has a shop vac. I don't want to be the first to mess the heavenly carpet. (I told that the other night at the table and it didn't go over so well. Maybe Jesus jokes combined with potty humor is a bad combo)I have an odd obsession with bathroom humor. Speaking of bathroom humor, Thanksgiving was Thursday and I spent it with a bunch of turds. Now, don't get my wrong, I do like a select few family members, but the rest of those folks get on my damn nerves. I had not been to a family get together on my dad's side in three years. I quickly remembered why.
I don't like them.

Red Sea Blues

Ten o'clock.... I'm sitting here in pink jogging pants, stuffing my face with sweet potato cocoons and gettin' "all hopped up on Mountain Dew". My period better hurry up and start. Last night I insulted an unfortunate looking sixteen year old boy, for no other reason than he found something funny and I, all swollen and miserable, have found nothing funny for the past two days. My boobs are so sore that it is uncomfortable to lay down. It is uncomfortable to sit up. It is uncomfortable to stand. It's uncomfortable to be awake.
I need drugs.
But not the make-your-hair-thin-teeth-fall-out- kind.
Just something to knock me out and make me nicer person.

I could go for a Valium and some sex. In that order.

Marriage & Midget Weenies

Letters back in the 1800's were romantic, heart-felt and well worded. Sadly, this is 2007 and chivalry has been dead so long that there isn't so much as a dust speck to prove it once existed. I said that to say this. I fuckin' like this dude I'm dating....A LOT. How can I like him so much? Am I sure he's not just a rebound from that terrible doodie squeef of a relationship I was in? I've asked myself these things. And I don't care to dignify myself with a response. Why? Because I fuckin' like him and that is that.
We were talking on the phone tonight and he brought up the fact that my brother recently tied a cement block to himself and got engaged. He heard it through the grapevine and was asking why I didn't tell him. I didn't tell him, or anyone else, because it brings up painful memories of my own shamble engagement to Ryan. Anyway, he told me he couldn't believe my brother did that and there was no way he was ready to make that commitment...Then he realized who he was talking to and said he hoped that didn't hurt my feelings. Truthfully, he didn't. I've been engaged and then lived the nightmare of breaking it off. I don't want to do that again. The next time, if there is a next time, I will be SURE that it's the right move AND the right time. Oh, and the right guy. I guess that should be of -some- importance. I've been dating this guy for almost 3 months. I shouldn't be thinking about marrying him, because that is a silly 6th grade thing to do. However, I'd be a lyin' bitch if I said I had not thought about it. Every girl does. On the first date with a guy we already know rather or not he's marriage material by the time the pail of peanuts, or salads depending on your level of sophistication, arrive. I guess it's just one of those built in things, similar to Gaydar, but with the possibility of sexual relations.
What's so great about marriage anyway? And why do -most- all of us woman want to be married? It would be pretty much like dating except you poop around each other and its no longer JUST your hair you're digging out of the drain on Saturday morning. When you're dating you can be at your pookie pook's house and when you get ready to go...you can leave. If you're married, you can still leave, but eventually you have to come back. I have heard married people argue about cereal. Seriously. If I'm going to have an argument about some damn cereal it's because some heffer took my prize out of the box. Finding the prize in a cereal box now days has become as precious as finding a well preserved dinosaur egg and I WILL stomp a skank over a cap'n crunch key chain. That 5 year old didn't have a decent car anyway.
Maybe it isn't marriage we want as much as love. Enough people trick themselves into believing they're in love enough to get married...and semi-prove my point at the same time. Ok, now let's really be truthful, I don't give a shit about any of that. Good luck to 'em and God bless 'em and I pray they do not ever ask me to babysit.

Super new and mundane paragraph time!-
I gots a new puppy about 3 weeks ago. Well, he isn't really "new" because I didn't get him fresh outta the wet sack or anything, but he's new to me and I've babied him.
I worried about getting another dog because Captain Scamper McFarty Pants, my 13 yr old pomeranian, is insanely jealous and has fluid in his lungs. It would be just like him to see I have a puppy and kill over just so I'd suffer a life long guilt trip. I love my Scampie baby but I also needed a guard dog for business purposes. The building that my shop is in was robbed 3 previous times before we got it, so for safety measures I wanted a mean ass dog that would chew the nuts off a sand camel in 3 seconds flat. I might as well have bought a basket of bunnies because they would be more vicious than this Austrailian Sheprador. I felt bad for the little guy because I got him at a backwoods flea market from a lady affectionately nick named "barefoot betty" and not only was he free because no one wanted him, he was dirty, had fleas and was puking up roundworms. Seeing as I'm a big pushover and kind of on the cheap side, I took the lil' guy home. So far he's cost me about 200 dollars, 2 pair of house shoes and the reassurance that my gag reflex does indeed work. He's freakin' precious though. I named him Luke after the 1967 American movie classic Cool Hand Luke, starring the one and only Mr. Paul Newman. I'm hoping his killer instincts will come through as he gets older. -As is- a goldfish could kick his ass with one pectoral flipper tied behind his dorsal fin region.
Anyway, my business is going well. We had a phenomenal open house and we've done pretty good for our first week in business so no complaints in that department. I do, however, miss being able to piss when I have to. I swear everytime I have to take a pee or am trying to eat my beloved midget weenie lunchable, some little old lady comes in and wants to talk about how chili makes her gout flare up. That was a tad dramatic, but that did happen the other day. Not only could I NOT eat my lunchable...I googled "gout" and have nothing left for which to live.

Vermox & a Box of Tampons

I have PMS.
My puppy has worms.
Nothing good ever comes from butts.

That's A Big 10 4 Big Tits.

Couple of things:
I recently saw a 90 yr. old man wearing a Cartman t-shirt that said "Respect my authority."
His fly was unzipped.
My mother pissed in a discount hardware store....right behind the toilet display.
I WISH I was kidding. She just popped a squat and blamed it on a fluid pill.
Vicky calls camouflage "camel-flage".
Ni-ni calls Ibuprofen "Ivy-profen".
I'm still getting hate mail from my ex and I'm listening to the song "I Like Big Tits" by Joe Walsh.
I'm no lesbian, but he knew his shit.
Sadly that is all I have to report for now.

Hate Male.

In recent unpleasantness:
I just got an email from my ex. To put it shortly...he said he was happy without me, I used him and he wanted his shit back. AND he is sorry that he wasted 5 years on me. Oh AND he wishes he never met me. I used to have ill feelings towards him, but I don't now and therefore I was offended by his virtual bitch slap. I actually cried over it. I'm still kind of hurt and not sure why I let it bother me. Now I'm having a hard time getting my CURRENT squeeze to acknowledge that I'm alive.
My planets are out of line, bitches!

Seedy Doodie

Yesterday I was assigned the task of decorating some ho's yard for Halloween, mainly because my mother doesn't know when to close her immeasurably large mouth.
Decorating I've done.
Pumpkin carving, however, was new to me.
As children my brother and I were handed paint brushes and told to "paint the damn pumpkins or do without". Now I know why.
Pumpkins smell like dirty butthole.
As soon as I plunged my knife in that sucker I thought the dog farted and exiled him from the porch.
Let's not forget to mention the fact that you have to hollow the pumpkins out.
That is one disgusting task my friend.
It was like scooping seedy doodie out of a giants patootie and I will never do it again.
My children will be deprived.
After my joyous half-day of decorating, I spent the last few hours of day light tearing wooden cross ties out of the ground and loading them in the back of the truck. To hear me write about this, you would probably presume that I'm a woman of considerable size.
I weigh 92 lbs. I look like two party balloons tied to a mail box.
If you ever have a chance to load cross ties with my mother, you should try it.
She'll always give you the heavy end, sucker shod you in the forehead with a piece of rebar and nearly take out your sternum.
... "a reasonable girl doesn't need it anyway".

What Can Go Wrong... Will Go Wrong.

Remember a few posts ago when I mentioned I needed an aspirin? Forget it.
What I really needed was a sledge hammer to my cerebral cortex.
Apparently I enjoy learning things the hard way.
Getting back with your ex simply because you miss him..VERY BAD IDEA.
At least with my ex anyway.
What I was missing was the good times and we waved bye bye to those long ago.
For my three readers that care, and I know who you are (hi, sue.), I'm back with my sexy hunk of man meat. Sure, I wasn't exactly being fair to him but trust me...I have more than made up for it.
I accidentally stuck my toe in his butt, but that's another disturbing entry.
In other boring-not-even-sure-why-I'm-updating news: My gift shop will be open in November. Yikes.
I'm so nervous I can't even urinate. Properly.
My dad, also known as the bank of Steve, has invested so much money into this for me.
What did I do to deserve any of the things he has given me? I'm not quite sure.
Unless being adorable counts...and I'm sure it does.
Another reason, besides money, that I'm nervous is this whole thing could blow up in my face.
I've read the statistics. I know the haps. This could be a potential failure.
According to Murphy's Law and my anal expulsive character, I'm doomed.

Day Old Easter Pee

Suddenly I'm some kind of famous photographer around here, I'm not quite sure who I am dating and I've had the spontaneous shits for 3 days straight. Oh and let's not forget the shocking experience of finding out, through extensive research, this new antibiotic I'm shoving down my throat makes my pee smell like eggs. I know I'm gross. I talk about gross things. The things I talk about should never be spoken out of a ladies mouth, blah blah blah. If I go to take a piss and am hit in the face by the scent of sulphur, by god I'm going to talk about it. Especially since I thought my arse had suddenly taken on a new smell and I scrubbed myself 6 times for a consecutive 30 minutes each -thinking the whole time- oh hell I've made fun of so many people for their unfortunate b.o. situations that it has finally coming back to haunt me. I'm going to be upset if I'm taking straight sulphur...simply because that crap is high. I have a bag of sulphur pelets outside in my garage that we spriggle in the flower beds to keep snakes away. I could have just taken a few of those. Either way I'm repelling things.
Now let's talk about the fact that I've been extremely popular lately in the photog department.
Keep in mind when I say extremely popular, I mean two people have asked me to take on projects in one week. Hey, that's pretty popular...especially since photography is a hobby to me. Perhaps I should rethinks me life goals. Anyway, I've been comissioned by a local snooty lady to take some pictures of the town & blow them up to a ginormous size, frame them and hang them on the walls of her restaurant. Then my friend, that I haven't talked to since the last time we got drunk and peed in a corn field together (or 4 yrs to those of u who weren't there), asked me to take some snaps at her wedding reception. Apparently the douche she paid 4800 bucks to doesn't lower himself to "snapshots". Whatev..she can consider it my wedding present.
The fact that people only contact me now days when they NEED something is getting rather annoying. The fact that my pee smells like the day after easter is annoying. And I'm sure if you're reading this, the fact that you can't get those few minutes of your life back...is annoying.

Here I Go AGAIN...

Someone get me an asprin, I'm missing my ex. Not missing as in misplaced this time, but heart tuggin' , memory lapsin', wish I had him back -missing.
NEVER thought that would happen.
I've been dating the sexiest freakin' guy and I'm sitting there thinking about my ex and having sex in a hot tub. Not even with both of them.
I started crying today I missed him so bad and since I STILL have a horrible sinus infection it was more like I was trying to strangle myself. Cry 'n gag. Cry 'n gag.
I'm ashamed to say that we had phonal-contact (I so totally just made up that word) today and we might be getting back together.
How in the world am I going to tell sexy hunk of man meat??
I have got to be an idiot for doing what I'm going, but ...I'm always an idiot so this is normal.

Desperation Tends To Make One Sort Of Flexible.

Today I dropped the top to my moisturizer and it rolled under the bed.
After a 47 second rescue mission my brain immediately aborts rational thought and turns to salvage mode.
Maybe I can fashion a new top out of press 'n seal and a rubber band.
No, on second thought, I'll just set this small bottle of finger nail polish remover on the top until I can MacGyver a new one.
How hard would it have been to pull out a few boxes to find the actual top?
Only a normal person with normal thought processes would know.

In other news, I cannot stop pooping.
I switched medications of myself because I'm way too lazy and cheap to go back to the doctor.
Plus, last time I was there, a 65 yr. old man fell out dead and soiled himself right in front of me.
I like to think it was an uncomfortable situation for the both of us.
Anyway, I've been taking mystery meds from the back of the cabinet.
Smart? No. Cheap? Yes.
Turns out...all cheap will get you on a Saturday night is the never ending urge to vomit and a dire case of the free shits.
And, depending upon rather or not you live in rural Mississippi, herpes.

No Thanks.

Dating is SUPER-HARD!
I had forgotten how much work was involved.
Between breath checks and trying to force out the coveted stink-less, soundless booty burp...
I am exhausted!
Honestly, I like this guy...but I -no longer- am the "going out" type.
Someone may ask me to go to a bar. No thanks. I can get wasted and grope myself at home. Naked even. Without the possibility of a nasty old guy trying to poke a pool stick in my brown eye.
Someone may say "hey, wanna go to a movie" No thanks. I'm not quite fond of driving 30 miles to sit next to a complete stranger that may or may not smell of rancid bok choy. Plus it is just ridiculous the amount of money those bitches charge for lemonheads. They are tiny flavored balls of sugar, not gold.
What it all boils down to is: I am a homebody with an extreme fear of expanding my comfort zone.

Oh well, there are worse things than being a homebody.
I could be an extremely unattractive homebody with backne & a vespa.

Me No Likey Skoo

Hmm, I just finished reading some guy's landscape design blog and I must say he came off as being a complete douche.
There's nothing wrong with sounding smart...as long as you're not trying to sound smart.
Turd was using words such as "pithily" and "anthromorphize". Heffer please.
I'm a landscape design student myself and the only "smart" words I use are "auto-sketch" and "contract".
Even those are used sparingly considering most of the time when I'm stuck behind the computer desk, I'm wishing I was outside playing in the dirt.
Me no likey skoo.

Sucky Blog Entry #9

My current Squeeze had to work late cutting corn today and maaaybe we had plans to go eat, but bitch was hungry and needed to take her antibiotics. So...I skipped on him. Now before all 3 of my readers go and get the tar & feathers I DID end up watching a movie with him. Two movies to be precise. We'll see if he actually calls me tomorrow. He acted kind of mad at first. Men need to know one thing about me. If I have to toot I'm gunna and I don't care where I am.
Seriously.
But the one thing they need to know is, this ho don't wait.

They should also not be jealous of my geniocity.

Utter confusion.

This guy actually likes me.
We never spoke to each other in high school.
He was probably the only person in high school that I did NOT speak to because I was pretrified of his hotness...and now we're dating.
Weird? Totally.

Bye Bye Chocolate Olicooks

I woke up this morning and all I wanted was an effing CHOCOLATE DONUT!
I HAD chocolate donuts yesterday, but of course I live with a 28 year old food sucking vortex.
Now I must settle for powdered.
The world is an evil place.

Shave Your Legs. Wash Your Butt.

Sexy Hunk of Man Meat just left my house.
The way he left made me a little uneasy.
Dating would be so much easier if you didn't have to shave your legs or brush your teeth.

Men are hard.

Excuse me, I came home from work tonight and Smoot was at my house talking to my brother.
I do NOT want that turd at my house!
He is disrespectful....among other things.
So I pretty much ignored him and went about my business.
Next thing I know he comes up to my truck where I've got my butt up in the air diggin' for a tree (one of those 'you'd have to be there' moments) and he wants to know what I'm doing.
I told him and then when I found what I was looking for, I walked off.
He proceeds to yell at my mom and me that he'll see us later, jumps in his truck & spins out of the drive way and then ten minutes after he leaves he sends me hate-ful text messages.
Messages such as "I'm just going to quit trying to be anything to you. I see now that it just wouldn't work" and "Maybe this is what you want. I don't know and I don't care."
What the fuck?
I'm NOT dating the boy, never really said anything to him to make him think we were "talking" so I'm a lil' confused. However, I'm also relieved because that probably means he will leave me alone. Anyway, I'm still happy with my new feller and this post is really sucky and completely unfunny.
I should just call it a day.

Drunk is good.

This boy I'm "talking to" is cuter than a bug toot in a wind sock.
We're supposed to be going out again tonight. Well, actually, I'm supposed to go to his house & he's going to cook for me. Is that too forward for a second date? I don't really care.
In all actuality I shouldn't be going anywhere. I had to get two shots in my hip day before yesterday and I'm all hopped up on a combo of nasal spray, antibiotics and some kind of crap called Ed-a-Hist.
I'm pretty drunk.
But sometimes drunk is good.
The last time I was drunk...I drank 4 bottles of Arbor Mist and watched Stuffin' Muffins 6.
Do you know there wasn't an oven or useful recipe in that movie anywhere?

Love In A Nut Sack

Tonight I went out with Sexy Hunk of Man Meat.
He seems like a good guy. He mentioned the words "nut sack" and "scrotum" so it just may be love.

Twat-hoppers

Jae's boyfriend saw my kooter monkey tonight.
We were standing outside talking and a grasshopper made himself at home up my shorts leg.
She said I flashed my beav.
I should have charged him for the peep show.

My Muffin's Moist.

I have a total crush on Bubba Skinner from In the Heat of the Night.
He's not as hot as the fine piece that asked me out recently, but dear heavens I would NOT kick that man outta bed...
even if he had the wet farts.

My HuMpS My HuMpS

I almost forgot!
This fine ass hunk of sexy man meat asked me out.
ME!
I used to look like Howdie Doodie with a vagina, but now I'm impressin' the men folk with my lady lumps.
"...back then she was nothin' but knees & elbows...golly did she grow up fast" -daddy's money by ricochet

Go me.

Lady "Droppings"

My mother informed me tonight that when a gal gets older... her bladder can fall OUT of her twassy.
Excuse me, that is disgusting.
Yet anothing thing to look forward to with age.
I can see me bustin' up in the doctor's office asking him if he could possibly compile everything so I would just have one hole for things to fall out of.
Hey, its all one incision away from being a vending machine anyway.

In other news, moms & I almost hit two deer today.
After the breaks stopped squeeling and I uncovered my eyes she yelled
" I think I shitted me pants!"
Me too mom.
Me too.

Happy Endings

I had a pedicure for the first time yesterday.
I think I'm in love.
If only they promised happy endings..

Injured list.

I spent most of this morning digging a chunk of glass out of the bottom of my foot. I guess if you go to a white trash political rally you're going to get some part of a beer bottle stuck in you somewhere.

Politics & Pubic hair.

Holy hells 'n beans. Today was the day of our towns "big" political rally. I ain't all up in the politics, but I AM into sellin' plants to a whole bunch of rich folks. Moms 'n me & V & Ni sat out there all day, from 9-4, sellin' plants to raise money for the nursery. We sold 200 dollars worth, which was more than I thought we'd sell...so I'm happy on that front. However, on the way home from eatin' at Tudie's we drove past ol' Jank Southerland's house. Y'all he was out in the yard with the water hose stuck down his pants, wearin' no shirt. I swear he looked like a marshmallow dipped in some pubie hairs. I don't mind if a person goes shirtless, but if you go shirtless and look like a pastry in need of a bikini wax and some tree loppers I WILL talk about yo' ass.
Anyway, it was hotter than a two fannied pole dancer today.
At least she/we got her/our moneys worth.

Monkey bleach.

I have red bugs on my hoo-hoo. Yesterday when we were at Uma's they took it upon themselves to attack my kooter region. My home girl Janie told me to pour a cup of bleach in my bath water, but I'm a little scared of that recommendation. I ain't into all that anal bleachin' stuff. Plus it might fry off my lady lips.
Anyway, I'm so tired right now I'm about to drop.
Since 10 this mornin' I've been working out in the flower garden. I've hauled God knows how many loads of dirt today. This nursery business is about to kill me.
After workin' all day, moms & me went down to Tudie's. Uma made us some fresh chicken salad.
It was the best stuff I'd ever put in my mouth. And I've had a lot of stuff in my mouth.
V & Ni's mama also gave me some fried apple pies for pickin' her beans & cucumbers awhile ago.
So if y'all will excuse me I'm about to go eat myself into a coma.
Later I might bleach my monkey.

Old School Tricks

Tonight moms & me & V & Ni got the bright idea to go over to Uma's and dig up some flowers.
Y'all this woman has flowers comin' out her butthole and she's always let you, as long as she likes you, come over and dig up what you want. Well, the mo-skeets was about to tote me off, Nini's sugar was low so she was over there stumblin' around looking like she was doin' interpretive dance & V got attacked by a dog. She calls all dogs "Camoodlie" and if you called me camoodlie I'd probably attack you too. She wasn't viciously attacked, the dog just got mud on her orange pants and she thought she was dyin'. Uma's son Buddy told me that I ought to get paid more...that way I wouldn't have to wear wind chimes as earrings. He -so obviously- does not know that I will kick his anus over my earrings. If I want to wear big earrings it is none of his business. That's where 87% of my confidence comes from. The other 13% is the fact that I have a total straight crush on myself.
Also, earlier today, I decided while I was in the pool that I was going to do some old school tricks (not that kind you get paid for). I took my hot pink $1.50 float and put it just close enough to the edge so that when I got a running start from the deck railing it would be there to catch my happy lil' optimistic ass. Wrong. I overshot the floatie by about 2ft. ended up stubbin' my toe and losing my top in 4ft. , hit my head on the step rail in 3ft. and got a dead bug in my mouth.
I guess there's some things you shouldn't do when you're 23.
-Or ever

Speed up the process

Pall Mall keeps sending me crap.
Why don't they just tie a human to a tree and set fire to them with a cigarette?
Now THAT would be advertising.

Discount Keds & Silk Panties

Ok, some ho keeps trying to outbid me on eBay. NOT going to happen. I will choke a bitch over a Kathy Van Zeeland purse. Anyway... tonight my mom & I, along with a group of our friends, went to the local Mexican restaurant for a lil' Fajita Salad & terrible music. What ended up happening was we almost got kicked out because mama insisted on telling the story of when Granny shit her pants goin' to Jackson. All of us were laughing so hard, we were disturbin' the church crowd. Plus there was the fact that mama doesn't really know how to be quiet. Brother Lipton probably didn't need to know that my granny pooped in the woods on the side of the interstate, didn't know she got it all over her britches leg, said "I smell shit" half way down the road & made us pull over at McDonald's so she could wash her pants in the sink and dry them under the hand dryer. There was my lil' ol' granny standin' in the bathroom in her discount Keds & saggy silk panties just a rubbing those sea foam green pants. God rest 'er soul.
After eatin' and disturbin' the peace, we headed to the junk store for a little dumpster divin'.
I don't know why those people throw out perfectly useful pieces of trash.
I think I'll lay out tomorrow in my new beach chair.
...After I spray it for bugs.

Celebrating 50 Yrs.

Today is the birthday of my Edness. I should do something nice for her. I saw some enemas at a yard sale. You never know when those will come in handy. I hear coyote urine keeps coons away. A lady always needs a nice coon repelent. For my birthday this year she gave me a b.b. gun WITH a holster.

I guess I'm the last John Wayne in this town.

Mama's Home, bitches!

Moving is like having a pineapple shoved up your asshole. It pretty much sucks until its over. I'm back where I belong in the great state of Mississippi. Kentucky is alright if you're overly fond of never-ending horse decor.

Along with my move...I lost my boyfriend of 5 years. Well, not so much "lost" as -misplaced- after dumping him 6 times. I'm actually starting to miss his smelly ass and feet. We had a good run. In 5 years you definitely get comfortable even if you aren't 100% satisfied with the relationship. He calls a lot, but I don't answer. Part of me wants to talk to him, but another part of me wants to hit him in the mouth with a shovel.
Smoot has been taking advantage of the fact that I'm home again, which helps except he never knows when to leave. You could say something along the lines of "Welp, it's gettin' late. I should probably scrape my corns 'n get some sleep eye" and he'd just move his tally to the left and check some scores on ESPN. I have just pulled the plug on a 5 year relationship, but hey why wait until the carcus rotts? Gotta get it while its still warm.
Anyway, a person knows when they're in the right place. When I was in Kentucky it was that whole skinny girl in the Lane Bryant feeling...for 3 years straight.
Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go check myself for ticks.
Where the F is Brad Paisley when you need his wonky ass?

Camel Burns.

Ryan's pissed off at me again. What else is new? My NNNN buttonn is stickinn', I think I gotta hemmy and NiNi tried to set her kooch on fire. That last part didn't actually happen today. Two weeks ago to be exact, we were down in Ms workinn' in the garden. My girls V & Ni have to stop every 4 mins to take a death toke. To keep my yard from lookinn' like a pre-wrapped tobacco patch, Ni stuck her stub in the pocket of her fashionably sexy Winnie The Poo pants...dang near fryin' off her beaver whiskers. I told her if one wanted to get out of work there are easier ways than setting fire to ones self, but hey..some take the high road. I personally would not have risked a fire in my dry forest. She probably even chapped her lady lips. On a lighter note, pun intended, we're moving home soon. I'm happier than the sit-n-b-fit woman in a spandex store gettinn' her leg warmers autographed by Richard Simmons.
Also, my knee doesn't hurt as bad today. And, just in case I read this in 47 years and can't remember what happened to said knee:


"I jumped on a sorry excuse for what Big Lots calls a couch while attempting a mixture of rhythmic gymnastics and cross country, banged my knee on a friggin' 2x4 -possibly bruising the bone & bustinn' a blood vessle.- Amputation? Possibly."


Note to Self: Gather more wind resistance.

Another Note to Self: Richard Simmons jokes have depreciated in hilarity.

Dear Paw,

Keeping a blog is cheesy. Knowing that it's cheesy and doing it anyway is just down right pathetic.
It's one step away from talking to your self..and knowing people might possibly witness you talking to yourself...and doing it anyway. But I like doing things anyway. It's how I do.
That being said, it's father's day. And WHERE is my father? Mississippi. WHERE am I? Kentucky. It sucks living back 'n forth between two states. My dad's probably spendin' time with my wank ass brother & his doo-doo turd face family. I don't really feel that way about them...I'm just kinda bitter that I'm spending another holiday alone. So I'm selfish. I'm also extremely attractive...unless I'm under florescent lighting. In which case I look like the love child of Bea Arthur and Hoss from Bonanza.