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.