Thursday, December 31, 2009

Ringing In The New Year In Typical Sexy Style

Hey, guess what? Today's the last day of 2009, which also makes it the last day of a whole decade. You can thank me later for imparting that knowledge upon you. I'm a giver.

So I thought about writing an epic post today and going out with a bang (that's what she said). Then I thought about it again and decided not to and instead highlight my favorite posts from the past year. Because I'm just that narcissistic.


So there you go. Damn, I'm awesome.

And now I'm off to get drunk on asti spumante because I'm classy like that.

Happy New Year, fuckers!!

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

He Finally Admitted It...Now With Even More P.S.'s!

I'm back, bitches!

The Captain and I were in New Orleans for five days, but he wouldn't let me announce it on the blog in case "some crazy ass follower comes to the house and breaks in and takes all your vibrators" even though I told him "I don't have that many vibrators to make it worth breaking in for". But I guess if you have no vibrators, getting even one would be kind of a Christmas miracle. And I suppose if you also stole my penis straws while you were there it would be kind of like the second coming. Heh Heh, I said "coming".

This just in. I'm probably going to hell.

Anyway, now I'm back and exhausted from all the walking and touristing and hurricane drinking. I'll have pictures for you soon from the trip, but I just had to tell y'all about something amazing that just happened this morning.

Captain Carl told me I am smarter than him. I believe his exact words were "I'm so glad you are smarter than me" and he was being totally serious. And now I'm in smartass heaven.

P.S. Carlos Spicy Weiner is still in doggie jail. The campaign continues....

P.P.S. I didn't get to meet Harry for lunch in NOLA after all. I asked Mike, our limo driver (yes, I said limo driver...jealous?) to drop me at his house on our way in from the airport and he was all "Who?" and I was all "You know...HCJ?" and he was all "Ummmm, I don't know him" and I was all "What???? How is that possible???" and he was all "I know where Brad Pitt lives though" and I was all "Well then take me to Brad's house so I can get directions to Harry's house" and he was all "Okay, hahahaa" and I was all "I'm not kidding, Mike" and he was all "Ummmm" and I was all "Seriously, you want this three dollar tip or not?" and then he put that little window thingy up between him and us and I ended up at the hotel and totally not at Brad's house and Mike probably had to explain to his wife why he couldn't put dinner on the table that night because he didn't get my huge tip. Heh heh...I said "huge tip".

P.P.P.S. I just realized some of my most favoritist bloggers have jumped on the Save Carlos campaign bandwagon. Go here, here, here and here to check out their blogs....because they are so awesome and talented and probably the best writers anywhere and also because they have a picture of a dog with the words "spicy" and "weiner" in his name. If you link up on your blog let me know and I will totally pimp you out over here. I'll be all "Where's my money, bitch?" and then slap you but then I'll hug you and send you back out to the streets with a little pat on the ass because I'm the pimp with a heart.

P.P.P.P.S. Okay, you people are kind of freaking me out with the Carlos thing. Check this out. And this. And this. Twitter people! Twitter! Why didn't I think of that before! If I don't get this motherfuckin' dog, I'm gonna be pissed off to infinity.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

I live in a world of fur – Not the sexy 70’s porn kind either

Captain Carl insisted on having a guest post today to make some kind of point about why he doesn't want to adopt Carlos Spicy Weiner. I agreed so that I can say this is his Christmas present from me. Now I don't have to give him a blowjob.

I am surrounded by errant cat fur, piles of partially digested food, hair, plant material, string(dental Floss) and just because it’s Christmas and the “The brown one” is especially bitchy….lots and lots of ribbon in her poop.“The brown one” can’t pass a present without taking a bite.

You just haven’t lived until you have cats walking by with string hanging out of their asses like some kind of shiny tampon string made by Willy Wonka. “The white one” and “brown one” both evidently like to decorate their back sides for the season. It’s festive and I hate it.

“The white one” is so fat that he can’t properly clean himself so we get to give him monthly butt baths. “The brown one” likes to take turds out of the litter box every once in a while and bat them about the house if she feels the box is too dirty. “The brown one” also likes to pee on any rug in the house. That’s a fun smell… We actually put hard woods in to keep her from ruining the carpet. We spent seven grand so the CAT would stop peeing in the house…. Guess what, it didn’t work. I hate that little asshole.

“The white one” sheds so much that I can’t sit down in my house with black pants on or it looks like my ass ate Santa. “The brown one” likes to wake us up in the middle of the night yowling, or climbing on the treadmill; or my favorite, standing on your testicles.

If we gathered all of the fur on a daily basis, we could knit sweaters for most of the orphans in Texas. We clean up at least one pile of puke each day and every baseboard in the house is dirty from them dragging themselves along or covered in brown and white fur.

“The brown one” likes to stare at me as if she’s waiting for me to drop dead from a massive coronary or seizure. I swear to God she waits for me half way down the stairs in hopes that she can have an opportunistic meal. Cats are likely to start eating their owners within minutes of their death. Dogs will only do that as a very last resort. It’s true, more crime scenes have been tainted by cats than any other domestic animals including pigs. WTF? I would sooner sell these little f’ers to a nice Hmong family for meat. The only thing stopping me from letting these bitches out into the world to be with their kind is Miss Yvonne. They better hope and pray she out lives them….

A day in Capt’n Carl’s Cat Diary:

Sunday Dec 19th:

2:15am - “The brown one” is yowling for her brother again. I reach down and throw a shoe. I hope to god I hit her in the head.

6:30am -“The white one” is puking somewhere. It sounds distant, but could be anywhere.7:00am – Found the puke, on the floor on my side of the bed still warm and squishy between my toes.

9:00am – It’s quiet, too quiet. Something must be up.

1:00pm- Still no sign of puke monsters

3:30pm - “The white one” is puking in the closet. I’m saving that one for Miss Yvonne too clean up.

4:04pm- The fuckers are laying on top of the laundry I just took out of the dryer, I wish I could put them in the washer when I re-wash these clothes

4:45- “The brown one” just tried to trip me on the stairs.

5:45- Miss Yvonne is home and both cats can’t wait to show off today’s ass ribbons. “The brown one” decided on a lovely shiny green string, while “The white one” went with a blue ribbon to match his white fur. It’s like the Macy’s parade without the parade part.

6:45-“The brown one” is staring at me, waiting. I ask Miss Yvonne if I look like I’m about to have a seizure.

7:17pm-“The white one” just puked on the bed – awesome.

8:30pm-“The brown one” is chewing on a present. I throw a book; I hope to god I hit her in the head.

9:45pm- “The white one” just took a dump and we can smell it out in the living room.

9:50pm-“The brown one” not to be outdone did the same. As usual she makes no attempt to cover her mess in any way. Mmmmm, cat odor.

10:30pm-“The brown one” just walked across my crotch as I was almost asleep. I threw her off the bed, I hope to god she hits her head.

Monday Dec 20th:

3:40am - “The brown one” is yowling for her brother. I reach down and throw a shoe. I hope to god I hit her in the head…..

In addition to this daily circus that is my life; Miss Yvonne wants to adopt some Basset Weiner that found its way into our garage. The only way in hell that Carlos Spicy Weiner comes home with us is if he agrees to solve my cat problem once and for all. Oral sex be damned!

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

UPDATED: Short, Fat & Carlos

This adorable guy showed up in our garage the other night.

He ran in when we opened the door and cowered behind the car, whining and trying to make his big old self as small as possible. I managed to lure him out with a little food and once he ate, he decided I was his new forever friend and promptly rolled over on his back to get his belly scratched.

Damn it, I was in love.

Lucky for Captain Carl, some folks from down the street noticed him earlier in the night and had decided to track him down and take him to the city shelter. Because otherwise? That dog would have been ours. No way could I have kept him overnight and then turned him over to the animal shelter. I mean, look at that face!

After they left with him, I begged and begged to adopt him and when that didn't work, I gave the Captain my best frowny face. That didn't work either.

Captain: No dogs.
Me: But he chose us!
Captain: No he didn't.
Me: He did so! He came right into our garage.
Captain: No dogs. Not right now.
Me: You're just a big jerk face.
Captain: Okay, fine. I'm a jerk face.
Me: First Regina, now Carlos.
Captain: Carlos?
Me: That's his name.
Captain: Stop naming every stray dog you see!
Me: I can't help it. Their names just come to me.
Captain: Right.
Me: Tell me that dog didn't look like a Carlos. He's all short and fat and cool. Totally a Carlos.
Captain: I'm thinking he looked more like a Fred.
Me: Oh way to be original, Mr. Smokey and the Bandit.
Captain: *blank stare*
Me: His name is Carlos Spicy Weiner.
Captain: Carlos Spicy Weiner.
Me: Yep.
Captain: Where have I heard that before?
Me: Nowhere. Except here. Because I thought it up. Because I'm awesome.
Captain: Hmmmm...
Me: So once Christmas is over, I am totally adopting Carlos if he is still at the shelter.
Captain: Nope. No dogs.
Me: You'd rather Carlos get murdered?
Captain: Our city shelter is no-kill. Nice try.
Me: He's not gonna be euthanized. He's gonna get shanked.
Captain: *blank stare*
Me: Because he's in doggy prison and there are always about 15 pit bulls in doggy prison and pit bulls are like the shanky-ist prison dogs ever and they will totally pick on Carlos because he's got short legs.
Captain: Your logic really scares me sometimes.
Me: I'm putting my foot down. Carlos Spicy Weiner is ours on January 2.
Captain: Family Guy!
Me: What?
Captain: You stole that name from Family Guy.
Me: Yeah well....your mom.
Captain: No dogs.

UPDATE: Houston has started a "Free Carlos" campaign over at his blog. I sense the Captain is waivering.....I need more comments and maybe even copies of Houston's poster on your blog to convince him.

Monday, December 21, 2009

UPDATED: Happy Holidays From Cell Block B

Since y'all demanded to see the prison art, I have now included a photo of it at the bottom of the post. Consider it my Christmas gift to you. You're welcome.

The Kiddo came home from school on Friday with a drawing of a trumpet, his instrument of choice, from his girlfriend...

Me: What's that?
Kiddo: My Christmas present from Marilyn.
Captain: Oh yeah? Let's see it.
Kiddo: It's a drawing.
Me & Captain: Ooooh, nice!
Me: I didn't know Marilyn could draw like that.
Kiddo: She can't. Her mom did it.
Captain: Oh that's nice, she got her mom to make it for you?
Kiddo: Yep. Cool, right?
Me: Oh yeah, definitely cool. I especially like the airbrushed colors.
Captain: Very tattoo-ish.
Me: Did she draw the trumpet free-hand?
Kiddo: Yep, she didn't use a template or ruler or anything.
Captain: Impressive!
Me: Very intricate.
Kiddo: Yeah, I guess she has a lot of time in prison to do stuff like this.


Me: Excuse me?
Kiddo: Her mom's in prison.
Captain: Oh.
Me: Huh.


Me: What for?
Kiddo: Something to do with meth.
Captain: Hmmm, well....ummm...
Me: That sucks.
Kiddo: Yeah, pretty much.

*silence while we all stare at the drawing*

Me: Well, that is so nice of her mom to do that for you!
Captain: Totally! If I were in prison, I'd probably just make shanks and shivs and figure out how to make moonshine under my bunk.
Me: Drawing is way better than making shivs.
Captain: Probably not as lucrative though.
Me: But less stabby.
Captain: Good point.
Me: I know, right? Up top!
Kiddo: Okay, you guys aren't going to say that stuff when Marilyn comes over tonight, are you?
Captain: Of course we are. n't.
Kiddo: Wait. You are or you aren't?
Me: Right.
Kiddo: Right what??
Captain: We are. n't.
Kiddo: Knock it off!
Me: No need to raise your voice, son.
Kiddo: Just give me a straight answer!
Captain: I already did. We totally are or are not.
Me: One or the other.
Kiddo: This is exactly why I never bring girls over here. *stomps upstairs*


Me: Holy shit. Prison art.
Captain: Maybe you shouldn't blog about this.
Me: I never said anything about blogging about it.
Captain: *stares*
Me: Oh come on! Prison art!
Captain: He'll be so mad at you if he finds out.
Me: I won't tell him about it until he's in college. Then it'll be funny.
Captain: Maybe. Then again, maybe not.
Me: *giggle*
Captain: Stop it. You are going to hell for laughing about this poor girl's misfortune.
Me: I know, I should stop.


Me: Hey honey...
Captain: Yeah?
Me: *whispering* Prison art!

Friday, December 18, 2009

People Love Me. I'm Kind Of A Big Deal.

So Wednesday night was a pretty bad night for me. Marian the Librarian moved out in the early morning hours Wednesday and she asked Captain Carl if he wouldn't mind getting rid of some garbage for her. Just some stuff she didn't want anymore but didn't have time to dispose of. I suppose he thought she meant maybe four or five bags of junk and maybe a few boxes because he said yes.

Dudes. That crazy bitch left about 25 garbage bags of junk, 20 empty boxes and 15 pieces of furniture. I am not even shitting you. How she got all that crap in one little bedroom in the first place is beyond me. Turns out we had one of those crazy hoarding people living in our house and didn't know it. And here's a little bonus....she left a dirty litter box in there. A DIRTY litter box, y'all. It smells like a fucking pet store in there. And not a nice pet store. The kind of pet store that you walk into with your kids because la la la look how we're making happy family memories by visiting cute little puppies and kittens! and then suddenly it's a horror show of feces and urine and hair and yucky smells and your kids are screaming and you're gagging from the fumes and blam! there's your family memory, only it ain't happy.

So yeah...bad night. And yesterday morning I drove to work thinking about how much cleaning and dumping we were going to be doing this weekend and I was all frowny and grumpy and I just knew this day was going to suck. Then I got to work and checked my blog for comments, because I'm an attention whore and also a really shitty employee.

Dudes! I don't know what I did to deserve this (that's a lie...I do know what I did and that is be super awesome and sexy), but three of my all-time favorite bloggers decided to make today "Miss Yvonne Appreciation Day". No shit. Turns out Vic, Becky and Kurt got together (dirty? maybe.) and decided they would each write a blog post about little ole me. And they are all awesome, kick-ass posts and I am (kind of) humbled and (totally) appreciative because I pretty much wish I could write like they do every single time I read their blogs. I'm also completely jealous of how many followers and comments they get, because as I said before (in my last paragraph...keep up, loser) I am an attention whore and everytime I check my followers I make that drumroll sound with my tongue. Your mom taught me how to do that because she's a whore too, but in the literal sense.


Now that Kurt has said I'm super awesome at your mom jokes, I can't come up with a single good one. I think he jinxed me, which was probably his secret plan all along because that's exactly the kind of blogger he is. He uses his ridiculously handsome looks and his run-on sentences and love of all things dinosaur and skittles to distract you before he goes in for the kill. And now that my your mom skills have been disabled he's going think he's the king of your mom. But he's totally not because only one person can be the king and that person is your dad.

That's right. I just replaced your mom with your dad. Your dad is the new your mom.

No? Not working for you?


Thanks a lot Kurt. I hope you and Beautiful Treasure and your dinosaurs are happy now.

Anyway, so I'm always checking Vic's blog to see if she has posted anything new because she is so cute and funny and I hate going weeks between new posts from her. Also she has a profile picture of herself wearing really huge sunglasses but when I first saw it I thought she had fly eyes. Go look at it...I'm telling you, fly eyes. Okay, I just went and looked again and really they look nothing like fly eyes and my mind probably just told me that because she's so damn cute and I was jealous of her non-double chin so I made up the fly eye thing to make myself feel better. My point is that I am honored that Vic took the time out of her very busy schedule to write about me and link to some of my own best posts. Vic, I heart you to infinity plus fly eyes.

And then there's Becky (remember the theme song to Maude? Classic). She has me literally laughing out loud (I know she loves that) with every post. I can't decide what I love most about her...she uses great swears, she's totally inappropriate, she makes fun of things other people are afraid to make fun of, she vlogs on days that she hasn't many awesome things. I've always loved Becky, but now I love her even more because she put boobies all over her blog for me today. Just because I left a comment once asking her to blog about me and to mention titties when she does it. And she did both. I think I'll ask her to send me money and vibrators next. You need to visit her blog today, just so you can see the man boobs picture.








BSGLAPHFF (Best Super Good Looking And Possibly Homosexual Friends Forever)

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

It's Not Stalking If It's True Love

Dear Harry Connick Jr,

I haven't received your confirmation on my RSVP to lunch next week while I'm in New Orleans. I'm going to assume you haven't had time to open it or maybe it got lost in the mail. The US Postal Service is so unreliable, right? I haven't received any of your replies to my other letters either...weird. I am FedExing this one to be sure you receive it.

So you probably remember from my first five letters that I am flying to New Orleans on Christmas day. Are you as excited as I am to finally be meeting in person??? I mean, letters are great and all but nothing compares to a face to face conversation. And really Harry, your last three concerts don't really count as a "face to face conversation". Because even though I yelled "Harry!" and "I love you!" and "I want to have your babies!" and "I will totally punch Jill in the face to get to you!" and then you kind of turned my direction in the stadium and smiled so that I would know you heard me, there were just too many other people there to go any further with it. Which is probably why you sang "It Had To Be You" next. You know, as a signal to me that you love me just as much as I do you and also that you are okay with me beating up your wife. Message received, lover.

I just found out that a girl I work with went to elementary school with one of your cousins. As you can imagine, this news made me all jumpy and clappy and a little bug-eyed. I tried to friend your cousin, but she ignored me so I sent her another friend request after I changed my profile picture to the one I sent to you last month. Remember? The one with you where I photoshopped my face over Jill's face? So far she hasn't accepted my request, but she's probably just busy working or something. We'll probably end up being bff's and next Christmas we'll all laugh and laugh at how funny the world is and how awesome and not at all creepy I am.

Guess what? I made your Christmas present yesterday. I had a hard time deciding between knitting a scarf and making a collage made from my hair and fingernail clippings. I went with the collage. I figure you have plenty of scarves already. Plus everyone always tells me how soft and pretty my hair is, so really it would be mean to not give it to you.

Well, I better run...time to write my annual Christmas letter to all the friends and family. I hope you don't mind, but I decided to tell everyone about our secret engagement. You can go ahead and deny it though....I understand. We don't need the press hounding you. I know that's why you got that restraining order against me too. Because you totally knew I was kidding when I left that message on your website that said "I don't want to hurt you, but sometimes you give me no choice, Harry." Haahahaaa, I'm hilarious!

I'll meet you outside your house for lunch when I get into town next week, okay? I'll be the one wearing reindeer antlers and climbing your security fence.

Love Forever and Always Until Death or Possibly Prison Parts Us,
Miss Yvonne

P.S. I had to get a new username on your fanclub website because somehow I accidentally got blocked again. Just an fyi, in case you are wondering who "iwouldkillforyou" is.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

I'll Take "Things That Should Never Ever Happen" For 500, Alex.

Yesterday Marian was packing up her things in preparation for her move to Ireland.

Yesterday Emo came over to help her pack.

Yesterday Marian asked Emo to do some laundry for her.

Yesterday Emo had to take my laundry out of the dryer so that he could put Marian's laundry in it.

Yesterday Emo touched my granny panties. A lot.

The End.

Monday, December 14, 2009

I Was Almost A Witness To A Puppy Massacre

Yesterday Captain Carl and I saw a guy on the side of the highway holding a puppy straight up over his head.

Me: Did you see that?
Captain: Was he holding a puppy??
Me: Yes!
Captain: Weird.
Me: He's either trying to sell it or deciding which car to throw it at.
Captain: What's the matter with you?
Me: What?
Captain: Seriously? That's where your mind went with that? He's going to throw a puppy into traffic?
Me: Well, he's definitely not wearing a trench coat and playing "In Your Eyes" from it. What else would he being doing with a puppy over his head?
Captain: Nice John Cusack reference.
Me: Thank you.

*5 minutes of silence*

Captain: I'm so glad he didn't throw that puppy at us.
Me: I know! I mean, we just got the car detailed.

*another minute of silence*

Me: And also because I don't want that puppy to be killed.
Captain: Of course.
Me: I mean, I didn't say that first because it's just implied.
Captain: Right.
Me: Unless you are some sicko who likes to see cute little animals splattered on the road. Which I'm totally not.
Captain: Are you done?
Me: I love animals. So much.
Captain: Mmmm hmmmm
Me: I would totally adopt that highway puppy, but you wouldn't let me.
Captain: Nope, no puppies.
Me: Because you hate dogs and would rather see them hit be a car than living in your house.
Captain: Look, I am not driving back there to buy that puppy.
Me: I know that. Because you could care less that little Regina is about to be roadkill.
Captain: Regina?
Me: That's the puppy's name. Regina Phalange.
Captain: *sigh*
Me: *in tears* Poor Regina! He'll probably take her to pound when no one buys her from him and she'll just sit there in her cage, staring out at all the happy families who pick different dogs to take home for Christmas and then on December 26 they will euthanize her because NO ONE WANTED THE HIGHWAY PUPPY!
Captain: This is why I won't let you volunteer at the animal shelter.
Me: *sobbing*

*another minute of silence*

Captain: Look! Sonic! Who wants a holiday ice cream blast???
Me: Oooh, me!!! Me!!! Ohmygod, I am sooo happy right now!

What? I'm easily distracted. Shut up.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

C is for Awesome

You ever have one of those days where most everything seems to be a struggle and you know that big vein in your forehead is going to burst at any second? Yeah, me too. Only mine is one of those years, not days. I made up my mind this morning to write a really whiny blog just because I felt like it. And also maybe because I have the menstrual cramps. But then something really amazing and unexpected happened. I just reached into my paperclip bowl at work and guess what I pulled out? Not a paperclip or a binder clip or even a severed finger. A blue plastic ring with a picture of Cookie Monster on it.

For reals.

Dudes, I have no idea how it got in there. I've been using this paperclip bowl for years and never saw it. It appeared as if from nowhere! It's like Jim Henson was watching me from heaven and saw how frowny I've been lately and so he reached down from the clouds and blam! Cookie Monster ring.

I think you will all agree that that is probably the most awesome thing ever to find in a paperclip bowl. In fact, it could maybe be the most awesome thing ever to find in anything. Except for maybe a three dollar bill. Because if you found one of those, you could be all "That guy is as queer as this" to your friend and then you could hand the three dollar bill to them and they would be all "OMG that is the most awesome thing you've ever said and handed to me!" and then you would nod and be all "Yes, I know. Now give me back my three dollar bill, hooker" and then the end.

P.S. I gave my paperclip Cookie Monster ring to the loud bitch that sits in the office behind me. Because this is the season for giving and also because I left early yesterday and she saw me so I needed a bribe. Thank you, Jim Henson.

Monday, December 7, 2009

Emo, Enchiladas & The Suicide Girls

Captain Carl and I decided to splurge a few weekends ago and went out for dinner. We don't do that much these days because of this new thing we've got called The Budget. I hate The Budget. The Budget is an asshole. The Budget insists that we capitalize his name because he's soooo important. The Budget is always saying stupid shit like "I don't think you need to buy that shirt" and "Chick-fil-a is not a necessity" and "Making the car payment is more important than driving to Shreveport to gamble". When Captain Carl gets a job, the first thing I'm going to do is punch The Budget right in the face and I'm gonna be holding a credit card in my fist because irony is painful and awesome.

So we invited the Kiddo and his best friend, Emo, to come with us to dinner because I really wanted to piss off The Budget that day. The boys were out "looking for jobs" aka "driving aimlessly while looking for hot babes", so they agreed to meet us at the restaurant. We chose the Mexican place that has the most awesome salsa and the Captain and I settled down to a couple of frosty margaritas and a basket of chips. An hour later, I'm half in the bag and the moron twins have still not arrived.

We were about to give up and order when they sauntered in, looking all Outsider-ish with their black t-shirts and rolled-up jeans and when they sat down, I was all "Stay golden, Ponyboy" and they just stared at me like I was an alien so I shrugged and chugged the rest of my 3rd margarita. Also, they might not have looked anything like the Outsiders, but when they walked in I was thinking "I wonder what Ralph Macchio is up to these days?" and that's where my mind went with things. Shut up.

So the boys are there and we're there and we're all talking and eating enchiladas and I'm laughing my ass off because the boys are there and Emo's too loud and too obnoxious and all pimply and I just want to hug him but I know he'd freak out and say something dumb like "I'm not into old chicks" or "Ohmygod your stepmom's boob just touched my arm" so I don't.

The conversation naturally turned to girls, as it always does with teenage boys. Emo is having a problem getting over a girl, and by "having a problem" I mean "sits outside her house at night in his car" and "follows her around at school" and "calls her 20 times a day". He's basically stalking this girl and I would feel sorry for her, except that she clearly loves it because the minute he starts leaving her alone, she starts calling him. It's exactly something I would have done in high school and yes okay, I actually did do it but only for a few months and only because the guy was losing his hair in the 11th grade so he was totally asking for it.

Anyway, the Captain was trying to teach Emo how to meet new girls because he's a big social retard and he's made the unfortunate mistake of picking my son as his best friend. The Kiddo has an ego the size of Canada (big ups to my Canadian blog friends, yo!) and honestly believes he can get any girl he wants. He's inherited his father's charm and he has no fear when it comes to girls, so I guess the Captain thinks he can help poor Emo with this too.

One of the hostesses at the restaurant goes to their school and according to the Kiddo, is totally hot. So the Captain suggested to Emo that he go up to her and say hi. Emo got all googly-eyed and jerky and said no way. So the Kiddo, our little Rico Suave wannabe, is all "Let me show you how it's done" and walked over to her. Let me tell y'all, watching your kid smile and flirt and fling his hair out of his eyes while the girl he's talking to bats her eyelashes is about the most fun a parent can have. Especially when you're on your 4th margarita.

The Kiddo came back to the table with a big smile and a new phone number, and Emo kept saying "How do you do that??". I suspect this is partly why the Kiddo hangs out with Emo. I imagine the constant ego strokes are addictive. The Kiddo just shrugs his shoulders and is all "Meh, I just do it. It's a gift." and Emo is all "Dude, you are the master!" and the Kiddo is all "Heh heh, you said master" and Emo is all "Yeah! MasterBATOR" and they just sit there laughing hysterically at their awesome joke and then I banged their heads together like in The Three Stooges only without Moe, which worked out just fine because everyone knows Moe was a total asshole.

So Emo recovers after a few minutes with "She's not my type anyway" and I asked him what is his type. Captain Carl pipes up with "Girls who wear a lot of eyeliner and hoodies" which both of us found hilarious but the boys didn't seem to get the joke. Maybe because they weren't on their 5th margarita like I was. Emo said he's not sure what his type is and I figured I knew exactly what his type was, so I'm all "I bet you like the Suicide Girls, right?" and Emo is all "What's that?" and then the Kiddo laughed and was all "Dude, don't pretend you don't know! Like you haven't spanked it to the Suicide Girls about a thousand times!". And then we all looked expectantly at Emo, who actually blushed and then was all "okay yeah" and then "I can't believe you said 'spanked it' in front of your parents!" and the Kiddo was all "Meh, I've said worse" and I was all "This is true" and then I ordered my 6th margarita.

And this is why the Captain and I should win a parenting award. It's okay, you can say it....we're awesome. We're like the Jon & Kate of Texas. Except with less divorce and spiky hair.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

This weekend we put up the Christmas tree.


I am sooo not feeling it this year. If it weren't for the Kiddo, I wouldn't have bothered with it. But I don't want him to remember his last Christmas before college as "the one without a tree and also the one with the really bitchy stepmother". So I made Captain Carl drag the damn thing out of the garage and I set about clearing the the furniture from the front window and pulling all the fucking ornaments from the very back of the closet and damn it! why did I put all this fucking shit in front of the Christmas decorations?? Who needs three extra comforters and five suitcases anyway???

And right about then Renty walked in with a big box and an even bigger grin. Turns out he had a crap ton of his own ornaments and garland and he bought the whole thing at Sam's and it's called "Christmas in a Box" or "A zillion tiny glass ornaments that will take you forever to put up on the tree Box" or something like that. Renty was super excited and looked about 8 years old when he told me he'd love to help us decorate the tree.

well shit!

Let me explain something before I go any further with this story. I have major control issues when it comes to the Christmas tree. I like all the ornaments to be just so and that angel on top better be fucking straight as an arrow or there will be hell to pay. In short, it's perfect or it's not done. I relented a bit last year when, in exchange for their help, I agreed to keep my hands off of the ornaments that Captain Carl and the Kiddo placed on the tree. And I kept my word, even though there were about 15 ornaments that were clearly too close to other ornaments and there was a huge gap near the bottom where no one hung anything and honestly, who hangs two identical angels right next to each other???

Fast forward to today and our lives are very different than they were last year. We've had almost a full year of renters in the house and I've had to let a lot of things go so that I wouldn't drive myself and my family crazy. As I stared at Renty's face, I knew right then that the Christmas tree was going to be another on of those things. I mean, the guy's ex-wife just got remarried (I didn't tell y'all about was a surprise to him and I felt kind of bad blogging about his misfortune), he was alone on Thanksgiving and will be alone again on Christmas. There was no way I was gonna be that big of an asshole and tell him "thanks but no thanks".

So Renty, Captain Carl and myself spent an hour decorating the tree. The Kiddo was at a band function, so it was just the three of us. I even used Renty's tree skirt, which was a huge deal because my tree skirt is the shit. We started drinking about half way through the process and the Captain was blaring Christmas music and Renty was so happy that he looked like he could have burst apart into tiny divorced 40-year old man bits at any moment.

And guess what, y'all? It was really fun. And my tree looks great and I didn't move any of the ornaments and Renty watched Christmas Vacation with us afterwards and we all agreed to make gingerbread houses next weekend when his kids are here and I know that will be awesome too.

Okay, so I moved one ornament. Big deal. It was one of the vintage ones my dead Grandma gave me and the Captain put it on the back of the tree and those always go on the front. So that didn't count.

Okay, I moved three ornaments. Don't judge me.

Fine. I moved four. But that's all. And I totally did it when they weren't looking. I'm like the stealth bomber of tree decorating.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

I Live Under An Equality Rainbow. Kind Of.

Captain Carl: (reading Meredith Baxter is gay?
Me: What?
Captain Carl: She just came out.
Me: Huh. I wonder why she's coming out now.
Captain Carl: Everyone wants to be on the gay wagon.
Me: I guess so.
Captain Carl: Hell, I'm gay. For lesbians.
Me: I don't think that's how it works.
Captain Carl: I'm extra gay if it involves lesbian twins.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Yes, I'm Still Alive And Sexy As Ever. Thanks For Asking.

I suck at blogging. And at dieting. Because I haven't been here in almost a week and still can't think of anything awesome to blog about. And because it's been 3 weeks and I haven't lost a single pound.

Failure, thy name is Miss Yvonne.

Also? Suck it Chick fil A. You and your delicious chicken sandwiches can go to hell. And take that "limited time only" peppermint chocolate chip shake with you. You asshole.

Also? I just read on a fashion blog today that those shrug sweaters with ties in the front are ridiculously outdated. Guess what I'm wearing today after finding it at the back of my closet and getting all clappy and jumpy because I forgot I had it and look how cute it still is? Damn it.

Also? In 3 weeks I'm going to NOLA for 4 days and just realized I have to share a suitcase with Captain Carl because we don't want to pay for two checked bags and there is no way I can take 4 pairs of shoes and 5 pairs of pants and 8 shirts if I have to make room for his shit too. Screw you, budget.

Also? I have to find some holiday spirit somewhere. Anyone have some extra they can email me or something? Because I have zero. We're putting the tree up this weekend and all I can do when I think about it is sigh heavily. Deck the halls with boughs of blah blah.

Also? It's December 1. The mortgage is due today.

Also? Marian is moving out in 15 days and we have to find a new renter.

Also? My kid lost his winter coat and needs a haircut and isn't studying for the ACT and is probably right this very minute skipping class to have sex with his girlfriend.

Also? Captain Carl bought me flowers yesterday. Just because.


Life is pretty good, now that I think about it.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

I Am Officially The World's Greatest Role Model....UPDATED To Include Photographic Proof

A few weekends ago I was out of town on a photo shoot with a couple of friends. The job was to photograph the buildings on the campus of the college they had attended. I spent the day taking photographs and seeing the sights. Then it got dark and we went to dinner at a place all the locals love.

I had one drink. Okay, it was a huge drink. Okay, it was a huge drink with 5 different liquors in it. Okay, I had two of them. Whatever. My point is that I might have been somewhat tipsy when I decided that it would be a great idea to head back to campus and take some night photos. So that was how three grown women ended up dancing around in front of a camera on the square of a major university at 11pm at night. My 17 year old niece is considering attending this same college. This was something I thought of in the middle of our night shoot and decided to text her....

Me: Dude guess what???? I'm on the ___ campuus and I'm a tiny bit drunks!!
Her: Quit drunk dialing me you ho.
Me: Haaahaa! Uur hilaarous!!
Her: Go sleep it off loser!
Me: Im just gettingg started! All aboard the party train! Cchoo choo!
Her: B careful. Don't drink anything from strange guys & get date raped.
Me: Will du. Play on playa.

10 minutes later I texted her again.

Me: Hey Im gonna askk 4 the best place to hit a kegger. I let u know for next yr, k?
Her: Tell me ur kidding
Me: OMG some guy jst walked by w a bong in his hand!
Her: No way
Me: For reals! He prob knows where I can hit a ragin kegger
Her: Srsly, I'm concerned for ur safety
Me: Nah its alll good. Word to ur mom who is also my sister. Ha up top!

I'm pretty much the best and most responsible aunt ever, right? I should get an award for being such a great role model.

P.S. At some point in the evening some college kid drove up to us and asked if I wanted to take his picture and supposedly I said "You know it, hot stuff." and then I allegedly said "Hey, my friend here is 45 and single and ready to mingle. Awwww yeah" and possibly "Seriously dude, she can totally buy you beer. Call it trade." I have no recollection of any of this, but my friends swear that I did. Lying bitches.

See? I should be a guidance counselor or something.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Justifiable Homicide

The Captain and I have been on the same diet for 3 weeks.

He has lost five pounds.
I have gained one.


It's like he wants me to hurt him.


Friday, November 20, 2009

Nothing Gets Me Hotter Than A Hairy Man Wearing A Cravat

I read the sex scenes in romance novels at the public library to determine which one I'm going to check out.

True story.

Right now I'm reading a dirty version of Pride and Prejudice. For reals.

I'm having a hard time deciding which Mr. Darcy I want to picture while reading the naughty parts....

The original....very Firthy.

Or the latest version...very yummy and hairy and Englishy.

Hot, right??? Like the grown-up woman's version of Edward and Jacob. I mean, all I need is to see one of them with vampire fangs and I'll orgasm all over this computer.

Hmmm. Which takes longer to rip off...a cravat or high-waisted man pants??

Psssst, Captain Carl....since I'm out of town for a few days, could you maybe grow your hair out a little and pick up an overcoat and a beseeching look by the time I get home? Just wonderin' reason, really.


Monday, November 16, 2009

The One Where Emo Offers To Kiss My Son

We scheduled a college campus visit for the Kiddo last Saturday at one of his top choices. A few days earlier, Captain Carl asked me if we should invite Emo along. I laughed hysterically and was all "Bwahahahaa! You are hilarious!" and he was all "I'm serious" and I was all "Hoot! Stop stop! You're killing me here!" and he was all "I'm totally serious" and I was all "Hilarity! Hil. Ar. Ity." and then I wiped away my tears of laughter and realized that the Captain had fallen silent and was now staring into space with his exasperated husband face on.

(He made me black bar his protect his secret nerd identity.)

I was all "Wait, you're SERIOUS???".

So yeah, apparently the Captain thought it would be nice to bring Emo along since Emo's parents don't seem to be in hurry to help him get into a college (or at least try to get in) and since the Captain was raised by hippies and all that peace love and happiness and a little bit of weed stuff (okay a lot), he wanted to help Emo. I, on the other hand, wanted a quiet six hour drive.

Guess what?

Yeah, Emo totally came along.

So instead of quiet, the day involved amazing amounts of loudness, gross smells and many many Emo-isms.....

Emo on what he wanted for lunch:
"I need me a big ole' side of woman!"

Emo on the English language:
"I make up words all the time that should totally be in the dictionary. Like spagstonstic. Doesn't that sound like a real word?"

Emo on his lunch at Dairy Queen:
"I'm gonna run a train on these curly fries."

Emo on the Kiddo seeing two men kiss in person for the first time:
"Dude, I will kiss you right now if it makes you feel less uncomfortable." (The Kiddo declined)

Emo on the on-campus "talent":
"I've only seen, like, two girls I would get with here. I can't go to college here, everyone is too normal."

Emo on the student leading the campus tour:
"Check out that huge stick she's carrying. That's what I'm talking about!" (what?)

Emo on his figure:
"I should NOT be eating this ice cream. It will go straight to my thighs."

Emo on being a legend in his own mind:
"Ugh! If one more chick texts me today, I'm turning off my phone!"

Emo on the contents of the gift bags the college gave out:
"I hope they put laser pointers in here. That would be the epitome of sweet."

Emo on getting a free t-shirt from the college:
"Do I look like the kind of person who wears a college t-shirt? Scratch that. Do I look like the kind of person who wears ANY kind of t-shirt?" (Answer: Not unless it is see-through)

Emo on the scenery on the drive home:
"I see cows!!!"

The boy can seriously test my patience. At one point, I had to shush him like a toddler in church while we were in a financial aid meeting because he couldn't find his inside voice and Captain Carl kept flicking him on the back of the head during our tour so he would shut up. Seriously, I should have brought a bag of cheerios to keep him busy.

But we got to see his whole person light up when the Captain took him to the cinematography department. He also called me Mom all day, asked how he could ever repay us for taking him along and told us he hopes he will be friends with the Kiddo forever because then we will always be in his life.


Dang that kid for making me love his annoying ass.

This is our country's future, America.
You might consider moving to Canada.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Questions For The Ages. Or Google. Either One.

Everything is fine on the home front today...thanks for the well wishes. Sorry I can't say more, but I've decided not to blog about it as I like keeping this place fun and stupid and awesome and not know...frowny. But I could totally change my mind enjoy the hilarity while it lasts.

Questions for the Ages...brought to you by Miss Yvonne

What is the purpose of pubic hair? I mean, there must have been some function it was necessary for back in the caveman days or something. But I can't figure out why we haven't evolved by now and stopped growing it? It's just in the way and ugly and gross. You agree with me, right? Unless you're one of those weirdos who has a pubic hair fetish and watches old 70's pornos all day long to get your fix. In which case, stop following my blog, Mr. Masturbates Too Much.

And while we're on the subject, am I the only ridiculously beautiful woman on the planet who doesn't wax all their pubes off? Because I feel like I am. I'm a trimmer and shaver. I know Captain Carl would love if I waxed it all off but I just can't bring myself to do it. It sounds ouchy and once I let the Captain shave it all off and I was so red and irritated for days afterwards that I never let him do it again. It might have had something to do with the fact that I went for a long walk immediately after the shaving, but I guess we'll never know because I am not gonna chance it. Because a good bush is a terrible thing to waste. Or something like that.

Am I also the only amazingly gorgeous person on the planet who doesn't have an iphone and doesn't have internet access on their cell? I'll be all "I wonder how many calories are in this Big Mac?" when I'm out to eat at a fancy restaurant with my friend and they are all "Let me look it up" and they get all typey on their cell and they are all "2300 calories!" and they shove their awesome interwebs phone in my face and I'm all "Oh yeah? Well my phone has a picture of an adorable puppy on it. Top that!" and they are all "My phone can translate English to Japanese" and I'm all "Psshh, who the hell needs that?" and they are all "Me. On my trip to Japan next week" and I'm all "I hear they eat adorable puppies over there so I would never go there with my phone" and they are all "Are you drunk?" and I'm all "A little. Why do you ask?" and they are all "It's 11:30am" and I'm all "Way to tell time, McFly!" and they are all "Huh?" and I'm all "Oh, YOU know!" and then I bat my eyelashes at them for awhile and then they are all "Yeah, ummm....I gotta run". Which leads me to my next question....

Does anyone have an idea as to why I don't have many friends and the ones I do have tell me I am "Socially awkward and kind of weird"? Because I have it on good authority by a person known as Your Mom that I am super awesome and very hip and with it. I mean, if you want to call taking 15 straws at Wendy's and blowing the wrappers off of them at your face one at a time while singing a Debbie Gibson medley "weird", well then you have major problems of your own and I just can't respect your opinion.

What?? I'm on my third glass of wine on a Wednesday night and I never said these questions were for the intelligent ages. I did not specify that, no sir I did not. I mean, my blog has pictures of Pee Wee Herman and a stainy dog anus on it. What did you expect?

Monday, November 9, 2009

Things Are Not Funny Over Here Today...So Go Read This Instead

I've got family drama going on at my house this week. I'm not going into it right now, except to say it involves the Kiddo and I just don't know if I want to share. Because of all this drama, I am not feeling very funny. But I know someone who is, right this very minute, extremely hilarious. You have to go read Happy Meals & Happy Hour's post about what happens when your child walks in on you bumping uglies with your husband.

Good stuff.

P.S. I'll be back soon...probably with more awesome stories and lots of swears. Until then, I'm off to contemplate why this shit keeps happening to me. Because I'm just that self-centered.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

'Tis The Season To Be Sexy

Guess what y'all? Less than two months until Baby Jesus' birthday! I am only bringing this up because I saw my first Christmas commercial yesterday. And because we all tend to get wrapped up in our shopping and baking and planning, most of us forget the true reason for the season. So I thought I'd remind y'all.

Okay, that had nothing to do with Jesus. I'm sure (capitalized) He's like, totally happy about that too. Because I doubt Jesus wants to be associated with me pinching a giant nutcracker's nipple or Captain Carl's cousin grabbing his balls or my sister positioned on the floor in front of him like she's about to give him the best blow job of his wooden life. Probably because it's not very, you know, churchy and also because (capitalized) He totally wished he'd thought of it first because hello? hilarious!

Yep, I'm definitely going to hell.

P.S. I'm starting to think the black bars I put over everyone's faces aren't fooling anyone. Like, I'm pretty sure if my sister found my blog, she'd totally know that was herself in that picture. Maybe I should write something over them??

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

We're Already Fighting And It Hasn't Even Been A Week

I decided on Monday to start a diet. There are a group of fat ladies at my office that organized a weight loss challenge. You have to pay $5 a week for 8 weeks and at the end, whoever loses the most gets the money. Now, I am most definitely a lard ass who most definitely needs to lose weight. I am also most definitely broke. And on top of being broke, Captain Carl's parents are taking us to New Orleans for Christmas this year which is totally awesome of them because our flight and hotel is free, but we still need to come up with our own spending money. So I decided to totally win this weight loss challenge.

Here's the problem. I have absolutely no will power. I lack motivation. I hate exercise and vegetables. I love bread and fried things. I have a non-function bitch of a thyroid. Okay, I have many problems.

There's no way I'm going to win.


So I told the Captain on Monday night that I was on a diet and so therefore he is on a diet. He was very agreeable and we went for our first official "diet" walk that night. Then last night he cooked our first official "diet" dinner. This is what was on my plate:

1 piece of chicken

That's it. No bread (gasp!), no starch (choke!), no butter (ack!!!).

I ate it in about 2 minutes.

Me: I'm starving.
The Captain: Have another piece of chicken, but just a small one.
Me: Can you bread it and fry it first?
The Captain: You're already whining?
Me: *whiny voice* I'm not whining! I'm just asking! Geesh.
The Captain: So we need to talk about you eating more vegetables.
Me: Gross.
The Captain: You have to eat more vegetables.
Me: Why? Is there some kind of new law that Obama enacted about mandatory vegetable intake?
The Captain: Look, we aren't eating potatoes and rice for dinner while you are on this diet, so you need to have something else besides meat.
Me: I like corn.
The Captain: Corn is full of sugar. You need healthier vegetables.
Me: Carrots then.
The Captain: Okay, what else?
Me: Salad?
The Captain: What about vegetables for side dishes?
Me: Spinach salad?
The Captain: Something besides salad. You'll get tired of it if that is all you have.
Me: Peas. I like peas in salad.
The Captain: How about cooked peas.
Me: Blech! I only like them cold and in things.
The Captain: So far we have cooked carrots and salad. We need more variety.
Me: Wait, not cooked carrots. Only raw carrots. With ranch dressing.
The Captain: That defeats the purpose.
Me: I hate cooked vegetables.
The Captain: I knew you were going to be like this.
Me: Like what??
The Captain: I'm trying to help you!
Me: You're treating me like a baby!
The Captain: No I'm not. I'm trying to help you.
Me: Yeah, help me into an early grave by forcing me to gag on crappy vegetables!
The Captain: I don't think you can die from vegetable consumption.
Me: You totally can. I'm telling my sister to check my throat for broccoli if I die prematurely.
Kiddo: (yeah he was sitting there during this conversation...we are the best parents ever) What about bell peppers?
Me: Yes! I love bell peppers!
The Captain: Okay, I'll make those ground turkey things that are baked inside a pepper.
Me: Nasty! No, I mean raw bell pepper. And green onions! They are awesome in a...
The Captain: Salad, yes I know.
Me: Look, this isn't going to work if you insist on treating me like a child. List more vegetables and I'll pick some.
The Captain: Cauliflower?
Me: Are you serious???
The Captain: Okra?
Me: Not in this lifetime.
The Captain: Green beans?
Me: *making vomit noises*
The Captain: Yeah, you are so not acting like a child.

This diet is going to be awesome, y'all.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

The Sexiest Man Alive Is Apparently 17 Years Old

Well, another Halloween has come and gone. I'm always sad when November 1 comes around because October is my favorite month. Weather gets cooler...if you are lucky enough to live in a cold enough place, the leaves turn beautiful colors...people start making stews and soups...I stop getting the boob sweats just from walking outside to get the mail. You know, it's basically just awesome.

We had no trick or treaters last night at our house. That really pissed me off. I mean, I put out the light up pumpkins and the scary sounds doormat and everything. Not one little shit rang our doorbell. I went outside around 9pm to see what the problem was and none of our neighbors had their lights on. Jerks. Of course kids won't come down our street if only one house is lit's bad Halloween policy to waste time on that street.

The Kiddo is too old for trick or of course he told us he wanted to go with his friends. A pack of 17 year old boys out wandering the streets at night. Yeah, not a good idea. He had a Halloween party to go to anyway, so it worked out. His girlfriend came over and got dressed up as Marilyn Monroe. I asked the Kiddo if he was going to go as Joe Dimaggio and he was all "Who?" and I was all "The baseball player" and he was all "Huh?" and I was all "He was married to Marilyn" and he was all "So?" and I was all "See, because they were married so if you went as Joe, you would be like....oh nevermind" and he was all "I'm going as The Sexiest Man Alive" and then he put his hands on his hips and stared confidently into space.

For reals, this was his "costume".

So I told y'all that I was dressed like a pirate at work on Friday. And for those of you who don't believe I was really drinking on the job, I submit to you my proof.

Picture taken at 8am

Picture taken at 1pm

Told ya.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Mr. Dr. Professor Sexy - Now With More Drunk Comments!

I'm sitting at my desk right now dressed as a pirate. My division at work spent 4 days decorating our office to look like a pirate ship. Now I'm wearing a scarf on my head and a gun and dagger on my hips. I look so hot it's ridiculous. I'm like the sexiest overweight pirate lady ever. I'll probably be drunk by noon because I brought a bottle of "fake" rum as a prop. It's filled with "ginger ale" and I've already drank a third of it and it's only 8am. I'm totally getting a raise after today.

Last night the Captain and I were talking to the Kiddo about college. Time is fast approaching for him to submit applications to his favorite places and I was telling him stories about all the things I wished I had done and not done while I was in college. Like more drinking, less driving two hours home every weekend to see my loser boyfriend who was cheating on me and also less worrying about him showing up at my dorm room drunk and screaming and less of him threatening to beat the shit out of me and less of him pretending to be suicidal when I tried to break up with him. You know, the things everyone regrets basically.

Then we moved on to his graduation stuff. The Kiddo brought home a packet of crap from school filled with things to buy "for your special graduate". Yeah, my kid is special but he ain't "$80 deluxe graduation package" special. Seriously? $80 for a cap and gown and "souvenir" tassel and 25 invitations that look exactly like the ones I gave out in 1992? No thanks. Captain Carl told the Kiddo that we just don't love him enough to buy him a souvenir tassel. He seemed okay with that.

There was also a letter in his packet that detailed his diploma options. Now, when I graduated from high school, the only option we had was "get one" or "not get one because you aren't graduating". The Kiddo can get just a plain old diploma like I had, or he could get the upgraded diploma, which has drawings of puppies and kittens on it or some shit like that. OR he could get the upgraded diploma in a "special memories" wooden shadow box. For reals, yo.

The Captain: It says here you can have your name on your diploma however you want it.
The Kiddo: What does that mean?
Me: It means you can put just your first name and last name, or add your middle name or whatever.
The Captain: I think you should put Danger for your middle name.
The Kiddo: That would be awesome!
Me: I don't think that is a good idea.
The Captain: You're isn't a good idea. It's an AMAZING idea.
The Kiddo: Or how about Dr. Daniel Danger Jones? (not his real name, of course).
Me: Umm, great except you're not a doctor.
The Kiddo: They don't know that.
The Captain: He has a point.
The Kiddo: Wait! Dr. Professor Daniel Danger Jones!
Me: *sigh*
The Captain: Even better.
The Kiddo: MR. Dr. Professor Daniel Danger Jones!!!
The Captain: Too long, maybe.
The Kiddo: Right. Okay, then I'll just do Mr. Dr. Professor Sexy.
The Captain: That's my boy. *sniffle* I'm so proud.

Seriously, I'm totally outnumbered.

UPDATE: It is now 3:08pm and my boob popped out of my shirt at lunch, but only once and it was totally hilarious. Our division won best group contest and I made about 50 jokes about my ship's porthole. Yep, totally getting that raise.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

UPDATED: I See A Trip To The ER In My Very Near Future

Captain Carl has been out of town for a few days and Emo has been here all weekend. He told me this morning he doesn't want to go home...I couldn't get a reason out of him, as usual. So all day I've been force feeding him (because he pretends he isn't hungry and doesn't want to eat all our food) and listening to him and the Kiddo laughing hysterically upstairs at whatever they are watching on the computer. I don't want to know.

I finally sent them outside to do some chores because the Kiddo is broke and I won't give him money for gas or dates unless he does something for me. Emo volunteered to help, so they headed out a couple hours ago to pull weeds. For awhile, I could hear them right outside the front window...laughing and flinging dirt at each other.

Then it got quiet. Anyone who has children knows that nothing good can be happening when it's quiet. This is especially true when it's teenage boys.

I was right to be worried. At one point, Emo walked in and asked me for a saw.


Me: I'm afraid to ask....
Emo: We chopped down a huge tree in the backyard!
Me: What????
Kiddo: Don't worry, it was a weed...a really really big weed.
Me: And you need a saw because???
Emo: To saw it up into little pieces so we can throw it over the fence.
Me: You guys are throwing weeds over the fence instead of bagging them?
Kiddo: Yeah. It's easier.
Me: No saw. Ever. Never ever.
Emo: Awww, come on.
Me: Nothing sharp and pointy.
Emo: So, you probably don't want me using this then.

And he pulled out from behind his back some kind of huge hacking saw thing with a handle that he dug out of the garage at some point. Then I had a heart attack. Then I told him to pull weeds with his hands only please.

A couple of minutes ago, they came back inside and said they were done.

Me: You weren't out there very long. What did you do?
Kiddo: Not much.
Me: I'm not paying you for "not much".
Emo: But I did trim your hedges.
Kiddo: That's what she said.
Me: Eeew.
Emo & Kiddo: *hysterical laughter*
Emo: Seriously though. I trimmed them with that saw thing.
Me: The thing I told you not to use?
Emo: Yeah. I just kind of swung wildly at them.
Me: *horrified look* How are my hedges?
Kiddo: They're fine. I almost got cut but...
Me: Oh great!
Kiddo: Chill...I said ALMOST.
Me: Oh well then. I guess I can buy y'all a pizza as a reward for not chopping off a finger.
Emo: Sweet!


Come home soon, Captain Carl. I miss you and I don't know the way to the hospital.

UPDATE: The Captain just read this post and called to tell me he's pretty sure the hand saw thingy Emo was using was his $60 woodworking saw. Awesome.

And for those who were asking, the hedges look as though a wild animal mangled the tops of them. Good thing I hate those hedges.

And for the person who asked when they should expect their son to start playing with sharp objects from the garage...that pretty much starts the moment they can walk. Just because you haven't caught him doing it doesn't mean he isn't. Boys are so much fun, right? Because you never know when they'll be bleeding or broken or on fire. It's like you're on a game show where the prizes are moments of absolute terror followed by hours of anger and huge medical bills.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Rhymes With Mock Ding

It's Friday night, the lights are down and my wine glass is full. That's right, it's time for another sexy time review with Miss Yvonne. Wives, grab your husbands and husbands, give your wives your credit's on like Donkey Kong.

So Drew over at Eden Fantasys and I have been keeping in touch these last few months. He's all "Hey, your first review was so awesome" and I'm all "Tell me something I don't know" and he's all "How about I send you another toy to review?" and I'm all "How about I karate chop your mom in the throat?" and he's all "Excuse me?" and I'm all "You heard me, Walker" and he's all "Ummm...pardon?" and I'm all "See, you're Walker and I'm Texas Ranger. It's funny. Like in that Tallahassee Nights movie" and he's all "Okay so, the sex toy" and I'm all "What kind are you sending me this time, Medicine Woman??" and he's all "Are you on something?" and I'm all "Yeah, your mom's face" and I guess by then he figured out I was hilarious (yes) and totally kidding (no) so he's all "LOL. What would you like me to send?" and I'm all "Something that Captain Carl and I can use together".

And he totally listened to me and a month later this came in the mail.

A cock ring.

Drew sent me a cock ring. I was terrified of it. I held the package in my hand for about 10 minutes and giggled. Then I opened the box and started sweating when I realized I had no idea how to work it. I mean, I basically knew how it works...I figured the Captain's junk went through the hole and all that. But this thing had TWO holes. So the Captain and I spent another 10 minutes examining and trying to figure out what goes into which hole. We were not successful. But still geniuses.

Later that night after the Kiddo and the renters were safely tucked away upstairs, we retreated to the bedroom to try out our new ring du cock. Captain Carl grabbed the little guy from my sweaty grip and was all "Turn around" and I was all "Why?" and he was all "I don't want you to watch me put it on" and I was all "Why not?" and he was all "It's embarrassing" and I was all "No it's sexy" and he was all "I don't know how it works...nothing about this part will be sexy". So I turned around and listened to him mutter to himself....

"Okay, ummm...maybe through here first. Ouch! Damn it! Should have shaved my balls first....okay, maybe...maybe....shit!"

At this point he had begun panting from the effort and I was trying very very hard not to laugh...

"Oh wait! Like this! Hmmmm...motherfucker!!!"

And that's when I turned around and the poor Captain agreed to let me help. I suppose this part doesn't sound very sexy. But it kind of was. We were trying something new and different and that can be very sexy. It was also me. It was a little funny to the Captain at first, but like most situations we find ourselves in, it got less funny the more I laughed.

Luckily we figured it out and the cock ring was installed properly. Dudes, here's the best part. This thing has a vibrator. A little tiny vibrator...if you click the link above, it will be quite obvious to you that the spot the vibrator hits on the lucky lady is a very nice spot indeed.

This is the point in my review where I could get really graphic and even more inappropriate than I've already been. But I won't do that. Not because I have moral standards. Hell no. I won't only because I just spent 15 minutes writing it out and it ended up sounding like a really bad romance novel. There were lots of words like "pulsing" and "throbbing" and "lusty sighs of pleasure" and I'm sorry but if I'm going to write junk like that, I'm gonna be selling it to Harlequin and not wasting it on y'all.

So I certainly enjoyed the xtreme rabbit cock ring...oops sorry, I just realized they call it a "love ring" on the Eden Fantasys website. That's a way classier way to describe a "cock and balls device", don't you think?

Hey, do your partners a huge solid and head on over the Eden Fantasys. Order yourselves something nice. Maybe a nice cock and balls device. Or perhaps a Fulfill-a-fantasy flogger is more suited to your tastes. Or hell, it's almost about a naughty costume? Erotic nurse anyone??? Bonus points if you order anything from the Fall "blow out" sale. They have a plastic pussy that they call a "textured sleeve". Whatever helps you sleep at night, dude.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Just Go Ahead And Roll It In Chocolate, Already

So I'm trying to eat a little healthier these days. I've noticed that red meat isn't exactly, ummmm, agreeing with me lately. I think being "over 35" has fucked up my digestive system. I mean, I'm barely over 35...I'm not even 36 yet. But steak and hamburgers never bothered me before 35, so I'm thinking that must be the magical number when the body decides it's tired of your bullshit and starts demanding you take better care of it. So I've been trying to eat more chicken and fish (blech) and green, leafy vegetables and less pig and cow. Which sucks because pigs and cows are awesome and cute and totally delicious. And let me just put this out there...chicken and fish are ugly and boring and easily dry out. There are only so many ways to eat a fish before you just want to roll it in breadcrumbs and fry the little sons of bitches.

And then I went a little overboard with the green and leafy stuff a couple days ago and practically blew my colon right out of my body. Fucking spinach. I love spinach. I had no idea that eating spinach salad two days in a row would do that to me. What the hell, body? I'm being HEALTHY over here. Quit being a jerk! Thanks to you, I now break out in a sweat every time I see a vegetable. Asshole.

I also bought a bunch of healthier snacks on my last grocery run to keep in my cubicle at work. I'm a snacker. I could eat all day long if I let myself...and I do sometimes. But I figured almonds and dried cranberries and granola bars would be better for me than oh, say, Kit Kats and Doritos and Oreos. So I got these granola bars that say "Salty and Chewy" on the box and that sounded delish and also very very healthy because excuse me but hello? it says "granola" on the box. I completely blocked out the "salty" part...which is bad, considering that I already have a slight cholesterol problem and although I don't have it yet, high blood pressure does run in both sides of my family. But come on! Granola!

Yeah, these things are totally candy bars. I opened one today and the top is all cashew-y and caramel-y and I looked hard but barely saw any granolas in there and then the bottom is made of some kind of chewy and sweet substance that has absolutely no resemblance to anything made in nature. All it needs is a nougat center and I could call it a Salted Nut Roll. How the hell do they get away with calling these things granola bars and selling them in the cereal aisle?? They should be right next to the bags of mini-snickers and sour patch kids. Here I am, all trying to be healthy and shit and I totally got bamboozled by Nature Valley.

They were awesome, though. I ate two of them in 15 minutes.

Damn it.

Friday, October 16, 2009

UPDATED: The Elusive 150th

I've got 148 followers now. I told Captain Carl back in the spring that I wanted to hit 100 by the end of this year, so yea for me! However, I've been hovering around the mid-140's for weeks now and yes, I know it's probably partly somewhat kind of my own fault because I haven't been blogging and commenting much lately. But come on people, I'm still hilarious and awesome even if I'm around less.

So now I'm obsessed with hitting the 150 mark. I mean, Kim has more than 150 now. And Steamy and Vic and Kurt? Well hell, they've already gone way past 200....I'm choking on their follower dust. I'm just as funny and witty and good looking as all of them, right? Okay, maybe not quite as funny but I'm definitely as good looking and probably better in bed than all of them. Just sayin'.

I'm trying to figure out ways to boost my number. I'm pretty sure I need to get more sweary and sexy, which is an almost impossible task because I'm already damn sexy and very sweary. Very sweary. That should totally be a Hubba Bubba gum flavor. Do they still make Hubba Bubba? I chewed a lot of that shit in high school. Probably why I have the clicky jaw now. Thanks a lot Hubba Bubba. You suck. Unless you want to pay me for my soon-to-be-patented "Very Sweary" gum flavor. If you do, I'd like to consult on the wrapper design'll need a catchy phrase to draw the kid's eyes. Like "Now With More Fucks And Shits!" or something like that. I'm pretty much a marketing genius. I'm like the Ted Danson of marketing. I don't even know what that means, but I am.

So back to how I'm going to get my 150th follower. I need suggestions. More renter stories? More renter sex stories? More renter pissing-me-off stories? A picture of Captain Carl smelling his back scratcher?

Ooooh! What if I offer the 150th follower a special surprise? Like maybe they give me the code to their voicemail and I change their message to say something like "This is Miss Yvonne and so-and-so is not available to speak with you. Because he probably can't stand you and saw your number come up and was all 'Oh shit, not that asshole again' and let it go to voicemail. Or because he's busy having sex with your mom. Leave a message, bitch!".

Or I could promise to post a video of me singing "Don't Cha" on drunk karaoke night when I hit 150. Or maybe I could share Captain Carl's recipe for the absolutely best lemon ice box pie you will ever eat in the history of eating pie (that's what she said). Or I could send the lucky follower a present and when they open it, it will be something awesome like a post-it note with a chewed piece of gum stuck to it or a caricature of me drawn by the Captain with me doing something cool like riding a unicycle or using a vibrator and also I'll make sure the package is marked "This box contains really offensive porn and sexy toys".

All that sounds pretty awesome, right? I'm sure I won't have any trouble getting to 150 now. I'll probably hit 170 in no time. And then in a couple weeks when I hit 300, I can be all "Suck it Steamy!" and "In your face Kim!" and "Take that Vic!" and "Bend over Kurt!" which he probably hears all the time anyway. But still.

UPDATE: Well apparently all I have to do is whine enough and I'll get what I want because guess what, y'all?! 150 followers. Boo ya. And what's even more awesome is that my 150th follower is called "vagiunta" which probably stands for something beautiful and meaningful but I'm going to say it's the Spanish word for cooter. That's what you get for following me, vagiunta. Sorry. Not really.

So now I have to get drunk this weekend and have the Captain video me singing "Don'cha". Just to make all my long-time followers happy. So quit yer bitchin'.

Now I'm off to whine about wanting to win the lottery.