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Category Archives: FanFuckingTastic

Nice Work If You Can Get It

Ok snarkdoodles!

So here’s the thing…. I won an award! I’ve been seeing this award float around all week and have been pretty green with envy that I was not a lucky recipient, but lo an behold, my beloved Angie over at http://www.angie-uncovered.com/ saw fit to bestow this honor upon me and well just so you know I’m having my Crown and Scepter fabricated today (because that’s what everyone does when they receive an award, right……………….)

So without further ado, the award………….

Yes I agree, it’s pretty fucking magnificent, and I can live with the pea soup green color. It’s been rocking my world all day long. And so with a great award, comes great power…. or um er responsibility right?  A couple of reward rules to follow here…

So the lovely, charming, witty, classy, silly, introspective Angie gave me this wonderful award because as she says:

“I fell in love with Becca awhile back and then she went and became my hero with her 1/2 marathon and Tiffany’s bling. We bonded over the idea of one day wining and Skyping… and now, well now it’s just a matter of time before we’re both on at the same time. She cracks me up and she will do it to you too. Oh AND… She swears. I love swearing.”

Awwwwwwwwwwww…. first of all I am total whore glutton slave lover of compliments, and this is one of the best I’ve had in a long time. Angie is DA BOMB. Drunk skyping is genius, and she’s always starting the wine party on the Twitter. Angie is always giving out the latest and hottest relationship advice which I pretty much live by (ok not really, but ummm yeah ok really).  The best thing about Angie though is that she’s not afraid to get honest, and shed the silly exterior for a deep introspective look around, and I admire that about her soo much.  So if you’re not plugged in to her blog now, march your butt over and dooooo ittttttt……. or I’ll have to bust your knee caps with pencils.

That aside, the rules say you now need to know Some Things About Me you didn’t know before… where to start….

Some Little Facts (most of you) Don’t Know About Me, Myself and I
1. I was on the High School Speech and Debate Team (yeah fine, laugh it  up losers)
2. I have never once in my life smoked pot (I swear to GOD this is true)
3. I’m at least 20 pounds over my ideal weight (FREAKING KIDS)
4. I have this softer side of me that you know is actually a really nice person (she comes out to play sometimes)
5. My husband is an ex-Marine (you would never guess it though, really….)
6. I got married when I was pregnant with my daughter (no it wasn’t a shotgun wedding)
7. We had a civil ceremony (ok maybe it was)
8. One of my legs is slightly longer than the other (what… don’t get judgey, it really screws me up sometimes)
9. I love Almond Rocha (almost as much as I love Toblerone)
10. I despise nuts in cookies (but I love honey roasted peanuts)
And now… I gots to spread the love…. I hereby re-award this award to:
1. YouGotSars.  This is my cousin, maybe even my missing birth sister. She’s funny, snarky, drinky, and oh God Lord in Heaven her SHOES!!!!! I love her shoes!!!!!!!!!! She’s also insightful, kind, and all sorts of interesting. Check, check, check her out because she’s damn well worth the read. Besides, she does all the heavy lifting around here and without her help we’d be curtainless and cold……….
2. Flourish in Progress.  This chick has already gotten this award several times, but still her awesomeness can’t be denied. It’s takes a real OG to give up shopping for year and to not steal shorts (even if sequined) from the Neiman Marcus. She even started her own gang. Doesn’t get any more hood than this.
3. Oh Noa.  If you’re not reading this blog, we cannot be friends anymore. Seriously. No, I don’t want to hear it, go over there right now, read, laugh, choke on your spit from laughing and come back here to report. Noa is a fucking comedic genius.  Her flowchart on deciding if you were wearing actual clothes has been printed and taped to my bathroom mirror for future reference. She cracks me up all the time……..
4. Chicktuition. Girlfriend got herself in the freaking URBAN DICTIONARY, and has to date managed to not be eaten by crocodiles on her bike rides. She also likes to frequent cemetaries and her garden fixtures get stolen a lot. She also has this cute pink chick, and who can resist that. I can’t, I’m a sucker for cuteness… (probably how I ended up with two kids)
5. TazerWarriorPrincess.  So this hooker right here already got this award, but I can’t stop myself from re-giving it to her because she is so damn sarcastically funny, which I love, because that’s my type of funny. Who else do you know that can make a SPORK funny? That’s right no one. So go see her today and tell her I said, “Hey gurl……..”
6. WagTheDad.  Ahhh Shane, the ever pragmatic opportunist.  He didn’t miss a beat when he posted about his blog whores, mohair suits, playing doctor, and whatever else comes into his little mind… It’s twisted and dark and funny in there, but I like it. He never fails to make me laugh and make sure I don’t get caught reading his blog at work.
7. DeadCowGirl.  So this is not for the faint of heart. This funny, open, honest woman discusses a lot of sex (what she’s a Dominatrix for crying out loud), motherhood, and the joy and heartbreak of trying to concieve again. I find her brave in the midst of controversy, and funny in the midst of heartbreak. Go see her, give her some love, and get some advice……..
SO there you have it darlings……. go out read and report back here, maybe even tomorrow since I have an update on The Yellow Submarine, Costco, and The Weekend…..
xoxo
Becca

I May Just Come Back in a Body Bag….

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First of all my little Snark Bugs no one sent me questions, so I guess Q&A Wednesdays have gone the way of the way of the beeper,  no longer relevant but cool to talk about…. See if I ever ask you guys to do anything ever, ever again. HMPH (Stamps feet)

It’s ok though, because instead of pouring over your questions, I have been obsessively pondering the following:

What is Ms.VampireS going to tell the phubster when I come back from San Fransisco in a body bag.
(Go ahead, take a moment and let that soak in, s’ok…..)

So here’s the thing….. sometime in April or so…. I let one of my other good friends talk me into signing up for the Nike Women’s Half Marathon (there’s also a full marathon) in October of this year because I figured one of two things:

1. Our group wouldn’t get selected (participants are chosen at random by drawing)
2. If we did get picked I had over 8 months to prepare, so it would be ok

Imagine my surprise and the kick in the gut I felt when we were indeed “chosen” to be participants at this year’s marathon, followed by the weighty decision of actually having to train for this marathon. By train I mean walk around, and possibly run, maybe.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret here–> I hate running.

I’m not built for it with my one leg being shorter than the other (what it’s a real problem I swear), and my activity induced asthma. The mere idea of running is enough to send me at leisurely strolls pace heading towards the hills. And yet somehow I had gotten myself inextricably tangled up in participating in a half marathon aka 13 miles of PURE HELL.

I started training with a vengeance. I was determined for the most part to make good on this whole marathon thing, I mean I had to buy a ticket to San Fransisco, figure out hotel arrangements, etc. So I was going to put in the effort necessary to make sure that it would be a successful venture. None of this typical devil may care attitude. I was going to focus, get strict, eat right, train every other day, and………………….

After about the third week of this regiment, I broke down.

The kids got sick, I got sick, I got a cough I couldn’t shake, so it was hard to be aggressive about training. I figured I have plenty of time, and my friends (I had also talked Ms. VampireS into this utter nonsense) were keeping me accountable, so no reason to worry.

Over the next few months I trained off and on.

Today I looked at the calendar. Race day is 10 days away. I fear I may die.

Even at the height of my training I never got into the true rhythm running a full on marathon would require. My lungs would get tight, I’d stop and power walk, or I’d turn my foot funny and then I’d limp around for an hour. I think I may just barely squeak by if I really keep my mind in the game and bear through the inevitable pain, cramps, scrapes, cuts, and bruises. I am hopeful that I will at least make it across the finish line before I collapse and die. Again, the key word here is hopeful….

Although I won’t be too saddened by my many perilous tumbles as there will be most of San Fransisco’s finest fireman stationed along the course to provide first aid, etc. In fact a well timed trip or two, may be just what mama ordered….

Anyway the prize at the finish line is this really great Tiffany’s necklace (basically the only reason why I signed up anyway), and the only way to get it is to actually finish in the time allotted. Have I mentioned that I am pretty much shit your pants scared that I won’t finish, that I might in fact have a heart attack and die from overexertion, and then have to be shipped back home in a body bag….

I’m hoping to be able to push these fears aside and just focus on the task at hand. It’s too late to turn back, or amp up training any harder. I’m either going to drop dead, or barely stay alive. I’m hoping for the latter. I was thinking I should get my will drawn up before I leave next weekend, you know just in case… maybe leave a letter or two of apology, something for the kids to have to remember me by.

What can I say snarksters, I’ve got pre-race jitters and I can’t seem to shake them. Any tips, tricks, helpful meditation ideas out there?

Ms. VampireS–> let me just apologize now in case I do in fact die, and you have to ship my body home. I didn’t mean to collapse on you, I just really suck at running.

Lesson learned:

You probably shouldn’t attempt something you already know you’re really shitty at and from which you may possibly have to be toe tagged and shipped back home in Ziploc.

I’m Going to Have to Spank You….

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I’m going to go out on a limb here and institute somethingnew, something that I think is going to be pretty fucking awesome (and no, Iwill not take your comments if you think otherwise, in fact all negativecomments can be placed in the black rectangular receptacle under my desk, andfor those that are challenged it’s called the fucking trash can.).
Forthwith I bring to you….
Conversational Mondays
Just a little roundup of the tomfoolery I heard snippets of this weekend. Things I thought were funny or stupidor both.
Without further ado…
At La Salsa waiting in line for lunch there was a guy and agal standing in front of me chit chatting, and I practically wanted to barf allover them.
Guy: So, wow hey, that’s a sparkler
Lady: Oh this, (holds up ring finger), it’s nothing really (I’minterjecting here to say this thing was a big as my FREAKING eyeball)
Guy: No, that’s pretty substantial
Lady: Yeah I know, right (giggles) 7.5 carats. I had itappraised.
Guy: How much do you think he (which I’m assuming is the fiancé)spent?
Lady: At the appraisal they said it was worth $27,000.00. ButI doubt he spent that much, probably only $17,500.00 or something, he does havethat connection.
Guy: Oh yeah, wow, I mean that’s a lot of money (said with abit of disdain)
Lady: I know right, I mean it’s just like over the top (saidall breathy and giggly)
Guy: Well how’d he propose? (trying to sound genuinely interested,but he’s really not)
At this point I juststopped listening because I don’t do vapid well. And I was hungry and cranky,and therefore fighting  the urge to shankthe ho with my car keys since valley girl on an empty stomach is really hard totake. Plus I was feeling bad for the poor shmuck with her because it was clearhe had a thing for the bimbo. You’re better off buddy, TRUST ME.
In the produce section of Albertson’s, again a guy and ladydressed in scrubs scrounging around the pre-made sandwiches…
Lady: So what you’re saying is the Jerry is filing forbankruptcy?
Guy: And I’m going to fire him.
Lady: But why?
Guy: Because he also hasn’t filed any personal taxes and theIRS already sent me several letters about something else they want to look intoregarding him.
Lady: Really?
Guy: Yeah, but I you can’t say anything.
Lady: Oh I won’t. But I mean he has all those properties andthe boat, and then he flashes that watch around…
Guy: That doesn’t mean anything.
Lady: But what about Vegas?
Guy: What about it?
Lady: His penthouse in Vegas? (Mother fucker has a penthouse?!)
Guy: You mean the one he embezzeled funds for? (OMG OMG OMG, this is what I was thinking, followed by, he embezzled company funds, the IRS is in on it, FUCK…)
Lady:You’re kidding.
Guy: I wish I was.
Lady: Oh my God.
Guy: That’s what I said.
At this point theystarted walking away from me and shooting me dirty looks because I suppose whenyou’re literally two feet behind someone and run and trying not to do the creepystalker thing of breathing down their backs it’s pretty obvious you’re eavesdropping. But I REALLY am DYING to know more about Jerry and his money problemsnow….
And my snarksters I have saved the best for last, a giftfrom me to you…. This is a conversation I had with my 4 year old daughter, theLittle Monster…
LM: Shit.
Me: What did you say?!
LM: (without missing a beat) that’s a bad word though. Ijust wanted you to know, so don’t say it.
Me: (sputtering, wheels spinning thinking of an appropriatedisciplinary action) well, umm you’re right. Ok.
LM: (smiles) I love you mommy when you don’t say bad words.
Me: But I didn’t say any bad words.
LM: But sometimes you do.
Me: Yes I do, but I’m a mommy, and you’re a little girl.
LM: Yeah but daddy’s going to spank your butt.
Me: Uhhh… no he’s not.
LM: Yeah he is. You’re going to be in trouble. And then whenyou say bad words you get your butt spanked.
Me: That’s true, that’s why we don’t say bad words right.
LM: Yeah, but that’s why you’re going to be spank-ted.
Me: Well no, mommies don’t get spanked.
LM: No?
Me: Well… (and at this point if I don’t concede the impliedfear of being spanked without actually being spanked will stop being aneffective tool, I realize I just have to bite the bullet here). You’re right, I’mgoing to get spanked.
LM: See I told you. Silly mommy.
Me: Yeah, silly me.
LM: I’m going to tell daddy you said lots of bad words today(evil giggle)
Me: Oh yeah…
LM: Yeah because you do, say a lot…………..
Shit and fuck. She’sright. God Dammit.
And there you are, the greatest conversation snippets of theweekend. Hear anything more interesting… please do tell… and if you’re going tosay any bad words, you best prepare for the spanking that comes with it.

I’m Getting Pretty Fucking Old…..

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Well shit and fuck. I got old and it ain’t pretty.

I remember a time when I could drink like it was the fucking prohibition all over again, and wake up with a smile, sans hangover, and go about my day….

Those days are gone. And I miss them.

I’m not really sure why I decided I should drink margaritas last night.  Maybe it’s because everyone else was doing it.  Maybe it’s because my closet alcoholic cousin came over, and she always bring booze. It’s totally rude if we don’t open it and try some. I mean Martha would beat the impolite out of me, right? Right.  Maybe it’s because the phubster walks around shaking his head by the time I get to the fourth drink…. I’m not really sure of the why… but snarksters can I just say…. I AM FUCKING OLD.

I remember doing a lot of laughing and animated talking last night. I think I also helped my other cousin’s daughter write a speech on the importance of history. She read it back to me and it sounded like shit. I tried to read it, but it looked like shit. So I think I’m banned from offering my unsolicited advice.  SIGH. I’m usually so helpful.  I was in Speech and Debate in High School, so that totally qualifies me. I think I also walked into a wall.  I mean generally speaking it’s typically the door jams and knobs that like to jump out in front of me for no reason other than to scoff behind my back; but I guess the walls want in on it too now, bastards.  After a lot of talking, and me referring to my sister in law as “that cow,” and telling a couple of cousins to “shut [their] whore mouths,” and my mother in law cutting me off (embarrassing, YES, necessary, PROBABLY) I decided it was time for beddy bye.  I was convinced that I would be fine this morning.

I was EPICALLY (a new word) wrong.

This morning I had a headache, and my eyes would literally not.open.  My back also hurt for no explainable reason, and I had three bruises on my arm that I have no idea where they or from or how they got there. My entire mouth tasted like tequila, and my legs were stiff, and my joints creaky. As I hobbled out of bed, and stumbled to the bathroom I realized that I am old. I also found a gray hair, which was immediately removed. Add this to the list of I am getting old and it sucks ass…..

GAH.

I remember when I could go on two hours of sleep too…. insomnia how I miss thee.

Things that have gone with age:

1. My memory
2. My body
3. My ability to hold my liquor
4. My tolerance for stupid people
5. My ability to just have one drink…..
6. My tolerance for people who just have one drink….

oh the list goes on…………….. but why bore you. It’s Monday, and I’m hung over, like a Bob Damned teenager who’s been sneaking the devil’s water out of daddy’s liquor cabinet. I think my eyes are blood shot too.

That’s it. I gotta keep my boozing to Friday and Saturday….

Lessons Learned:

1. When your cousin shows up with a gallon of Jose Cuervo, that does not mean you should help her drink the gallon.
2. When your MIL cuts you off–> you should cut her back, with a spork.
3. Telling someone to shut their whore mouth is most likely going to end in a fist fight
4. You should never look up quotes about history, and read them when impaired
5. Calling your sister in law a cow might get you booted out of the family…..
6. Learning to hold your liquor and your tongue would be fanfuckingtastic

Soooo… call anyone a cow lately? Find some gray hairs, got creaky joints?  Share, because I don’t want to be old and alone……………..

I Have Three Amazing Talents; I Swear You’ll be Jealous!

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I had a ton of different things I wanted to write about today. I promise they were very funny. But every time I started a post I couldn’t get more than two damn sentences in. I suppose I have the dreaded writer’s block (kind of like the clap, but more itchy and annoying and definitely above the waistline). That or my brain is totally fried from the accounting reports I put together this morning, and it’s not like I had all week to prepare these little assholes either or anything…

Ok, fine I did. But in case you didn’t know, one of my very rare and finely honed talents is the art of procrasti-fucking-nation. Yup, I am an expert in this field. So while I knew these reports were due on Thursday I whiled away my time Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday doing absolutely NOTHING.
Wait, I lied. I was pretending to work a little, and I did put up a few highly entertaining posts, and I did email my friend about 100,000 times. In fact I pretty much blame that snarky bitch for leading me down this path of nothingness. Maybe somewhere between our flurried email exchanges I could have started to do the reporting, but no. She sucked me in to her life of intrigue and international mystery and I just COULD.NOT.STAY.AWAY.
Sigh. Life is really, really fucking hard when your friends are so interesting. It’s a wonder how I do anything with all the vicarious living I’m doing through them. I suppose if I was paying more attention to my own life I also wouldn’t have ordered a blender with the office supplies.
Hmm… what’s that…? I ordered a what…
That’s right bitches, your read it right the first time. I ordered a blender with the office supplies. We spent enough money to get it free (it was that or a grill set), and so into the basket it went. Also a mini USB drive in the form of a pig was ordered because it was on sale, and because my site director is always running around looking for one these fucking things, and we never have any. So what if you have to pull the head of the pig body to plug it into the computer. No big fucking deal I say. Anyway, after having ordered said items (and there as the normal pens, kleenex, cups, etc) I also failed to get to work early enough to unpackage (fuck yes I just made up my own word hookers) and put them away.
Why does this matter you may be asking yourself.
Well it matters because my fucking supervisor opened it up, my site director saw it, and that left me royally in the shits.
Because she couldn’t explain the blender or the decapitated pig, I now have to subject myself to filling out a Purchase Order Form for EVERY BOB* DAMN THING I order. FUCK THAT SHIT YO’.
Well ok, not really. I mean it was totally explainable, and I did not steal any of the office supplies, nor was I intending to (honest!), but I suppose…. I’m on ordering lock down. And pretty much suffered through “what the fuck are you fucking thinking about” looks from my supervisor and the site director all mother fucking day long. It sucked balls.
But I’m back to the dark side, I mean the right side, whatever the fuck side I’m supposed to be on, and back in their good graces. The blender incident of July 2011 is no more. Thank God. In fact being the brilliant bitch I am, I spun the whole “why the fuck would you order a bob damn blender” incident into, now we can make smoothies at the office, and ice coffee drink goodness.
“Zero to hero in no time flat!”
And that my friends is how you turn a total cock up into the best situation ever.
So make that three talents I have…
1. Procrastifuckingnator (like a negotiator but 1bizillion times better)
2. New word inventor (fuck yeah I always wanted to invent shit)
3. Total Cock-up situation fixer (don’t hate the player, hate the game yo)
And just like that I realize I’ve had one of the most productive bob damn weeks ever. Hell to the yes.
Tomorrow’s post brought to you by my fanfuckingtastic friend…. I heard that it may involve brownies and vampires….
I also may have laughed out loud and choked on my spit when she started telling me about said post. There’s only one word for it: EPIC.
*Bob in place of God–> why should He get all the credit all the time. Shit.

How I Ate Shit Due to Changing Air Currents

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Picture this:
Ho hum walking along, grab my purse out my car, looking super cute, ready to start my day, when all of sudden wouldn’t you know it but the fucking air currents shift and I’m falling pretty much on my face in the parking lot at work. Not only am I falling, but I’m falling so hard and turning slightly to the right that my left shoe comes flying the f.u.c.k. off and lands twenty feet away from me, my bag is behind me, my pants have one of those nasty parking lot grease stains on them, I’ve scraped my knee and elbow and I’m pretty sure the arm that is hopelessly pinned at an unnatural 45 degree angle behind me is broken.
Like the absolute pro that I am, I jump up and brush off my clothes, smooth my hair (because when you fall on your face your hair needs to be smoothed), grab my bag, ignore the stabbing pain in my right knee and arm, and hobble (mind you I still had one shoe on) over to my other forlorn and completely demolished shoe. I say a few comforting words over my fallen comrade, slide it back on, and try my best to not limp into the office.
The best part about this whole ordeal is that the office windows FACE the parking lot. Upon my entry into said office, I am treated to a standing ovation, complete with clapping and laughing. Thank you asshole shithead air currents for your fickle moods, damn you. Damn you to hell. That pretty much summed up my Wednesday.
Two days later I can confidently say that my arm is not broken, but I am still being very cautious when it comes to air current shifts. I’m pretty sure that many a life has been lost to its invisible push and pull, demanding human sacrifice to satisfy its evil whims. That and I think I’ll be avoiding three inch heels for the indefinite future since those are fo’ so’ air current magnets. Those motherfuckers must have on a blinking red light that says “Trip me.” It’s probably safer for my physical well being and whatever is left of my dignity if I just stay away.
Later that same day I was retelling the story of my brush with death due to air current shifts to a friend via text. And there’s the mistake, via text. It started with me telling her I pretty much demolished my shoe. (I’ve also taken the liberty of pretty much reconstruing and probably taking our entire conversation out of context, because it’s funnier that way)
Friend: What kind of shoe was it?
Me: guess (after a pause and thinking I should clarify, I added)
Me: the brand
Friend: OMG B***a, I don’t want to guess, what kind of brand………
Me: THAT IS THE BRAND
Friend: What is the Brand?!
Me: GUESS
Friend: Shit, forget this, what type of shoe is it
Me: The shoe is Guess
Friend: This is getting old and it’s not funny[ok I actually think that there was some cussing in here, and maybe a reference to Abbott and Costello]
Me: The shoe is Guess, you know the brand
Friend: No I don’t know the brand
Me: I’m telling you the brand
Friend: Forget it, was it a sneaker, a heel, a flat, a sandal….
Me: It was a pair of Guess Heels
Me: Yup…..I’ll send you a pic
Friend: Those shoes are TORE up!
Me: I know…….
And the rest of the conversation had something to do with not wearing hooker shoes and pretending I’m in my 20’s and going out binge drinking. I have the best friends yo’.
Now that I’ve tasted death, I’ve been doing a lot more goofing off at work trying to savor every moment of life. Which amounts to reading a lot of blogs. Blogs about blogs about nothing and just about everything. I like the blogs where I laugh out loud, and the ones where I have to run off to the bathroom and have a quick cry. Mostly I like the blogs that have a lot of swearing in them. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I have a filthy mind, or the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy. I think these are FUCKING HILARIOUS. So I think I’m going to start cussing more, straight up yo.
**** DISCLAIMER, the rest of this blog contains highly inappropriate language and name calling, do not continue if you don’t want your eyes to fall out of your head, or if you don’t want to go straight to Hell******
I mean my internal dialogue is filled with all sorts of colorful descriptors for various life situations.
Example:
1. “Isn’t that baby cute…”
(Internal answer) The fuck it isn’t. What the fuck happened to that poor kid, fucking scary little alien thing is going to eat my brains and shit.
(Actual Answer) Yes that is the cutest baby I’ve ever seen
2. “What do you think of my new boyfriend?”
(Internal answer) Where the fuck did this fuck face scrotum loving asshole come from. He better not be a total dickwad to my friend because then I will have to fuck him the fuck up. I’m going to have to shove shit up holes he didn’t know existed and break multiple fucking bones. I’ll probably be covered in blood and shit. And then my friend is going to call me a cock sucking whore. Shit. Why’d she get a boyfriend anyway. Our friendship is not totally going to be fucked.
(Actual Answer) I think he’s great.
3. “Does this make me look fat?”
(Internal Answer) Only if you like looking like you exploded into fifteen different fucking directions. Maybe if you exercised a little self fucking control your FAT FUCKING ASS wouldn’t be asking me this shit for brains question. God, get outside an exercise you fucktard. Shit, balls, fuck. Now I have to tell you a fucking lie so we can still be friends. mother fucker. Fuck you.
(Actual Answer) I think you look great just the way you are.
So you see, why censor myself here from your delicate sensibilities? My true friends know that the internal answers posted above is pretty much me straight up. And I am the shiz nitz.
Actually I am a toned down version of the shiz nitz.
Back in the day, before my near death experience, I had no filter. What was in my head came out my mouth, total and complete verbal diarrhea. Not so much because I didn’t care, I just didn’t care to filter myself, and after all, what good am I if I can’t give my 100% honest opinion. Yes, you look and act like a whore. No, I didn’t take the last wine cooler. Yes, I will sell your kidneys for a pack of cigarettes; all little gems of wisdom spouted by yours truly before the old filter on my responses thing truly mattered. There was also a shitload of cussing back then too. I mean assloads really. I had a truly filthy, disgusting mouth, and I so loved it.
But you know then I met my husband, and we had some kids and since my daughter has the special talent of repeating everything you say, after the 2nd week of her walking around the house saying “fucking retard” to everything and everyone, I decided I needed to put a smack down on the language, and a filter on my comments.
Sigh…. life has been slightly duller since.
But not to fear. I think one of things on my bucket list will be to get back to my pirate cursing ways if only on here. I’d like to expand the minds and vocabulary of all you my dear readers. And what better way than to use such wonderful and colorful nouns and verbs such as fuck, shit, cunt, bitch, cock, dick, balls, ass, ass + hole, etc….
See what almost crossing over into the white light can do for you. It can loosen a bitch up. So for now you cocksucking whores I’m off to enjoy the fucking weekend. Don’t ask me any stupid fucking questions because contrary to the popular belief there really are just stupid people.
And watch out for those fucking air currents. Those mother fuckers almost killed me.