Thursday, December 1, 2016

Black Friday Bitches

So I went Black Friday shopping and stopped at Victoria's Secret. Why? Well, I had to pick up a few things....for a friend.

Honestly, I hate going into that store. The "Bra Specialists" stalk you with talk of finding your perfect fit. Okay, number one, what schooling do you need to become a "Bra Specialist?" Is it a four year program? Can one eventually get their Masters in Tittology? All I can say is...bitch better have some sort of degree. And TWO, there is no damn thing as a 'perfect fit.' It's a goddamn bra! Bra's suck.


Plus, the staff hovers. Come on! My head is the same size as my boobs. So when I try the bras on my noggin in the middle of store, I don't really need a "specialist" looming over me, treating me like I'm some sort of sped. Shut up. It works for me and that's all that matters.


Red makes me feel sexy!


While slogging thru the throng of whiny bitches, I happened across a 'door busters' sign on gutichies that were pretty damn nice. And apparently, every other cheap gutchie loving bitch did too. The estrogen and Vickie's odoriferous perfume line were so thick I couldn't even get near the display.


Luckily, since I had my thinking-cap on,  *see above photo* I scurried out of the store and purchased a small cup of pretzel bites from Auntie Anne's Pretzels. Now, I'll admit, I was a bit hungry but I had other plans for those greasy little nuggets.


After munching on a few of them, I snuck the cup back into the store- in my purse- which is perpetually open because I'm too lazy to snap it shut.


I pushed my way through scary mother/daughter panty shoppers, the twelve-year-old baby hookers in training and the grandmas with fantastic body image to the round display of panties. Unfortunately for me, there were hands everywhere. Every time I'd grab for a sliver of silky fabric, another hand would pluck it from under my fingertips.

It was time to bring out the big guns or in this case, the bite sized guns. Acting as though I was picking something off the floor, I tiltled my purse so the pretzels precariously perched in my purse bounced and rolled all over the carpet.

The sight of those rogue pretzels co-mingling on the floor with all the lint, glitter and body dysmorphia birthed fear in those women's eyes. But there was one chick who pointed a manicured nail at the doughy buggers and really chummed the panty-lined waters.

In a thin, cartoonesque voice she screamed, "CARBS," causing the horde of gutchie glomming females to dart in all directions- while leaving me to the unfettered and attainable spoils.

Bwahahahahaha!

My Black Friday experience suddenly became...delightful!

I chose my cheap-ass panties in peace. Isn't that what the day after gorging yourself with great quantities of food is all about; peace and love and new panties?

Say what you want about my tactics but honestly, it was all Auntie Anne's doing. She's the real bitch here.


Monday, October 24, 2016

The Christmas Hippo



Ahhh...the Christmas Hippo. It's a little known fact that there was a 4th wise man, who was Not-So -Wise, and 3 days late to the birthday bash. He asked the Christmas Hippo for directions to Baby Jesuses crib.

Unfortunately, the hippo smelled the gift the Not-So-Wise Man was bringing--which was weed. And everybody knows hippos dig weed. And when the Not-So-Wise-Man refused to share his stash the hippo ate him....and eventually smoked all the weed.

We celebrate the Christmas Hippo because if it weren't for him, we'd be decorating our homes with ganja instead of poinsettia which a 5th wise man sent by FTD.

Another little known Christmas fact by me....and TJ Maxx department store.


Thursday, September 1, 2016

19 Common Phrases and Discussions at Home that Involve My Pets

It's a known fact that we pet owners talk and sometimes have full discussions with our pets. But what you don't realize is that our pets actually understand what we are saying. They just don't give a shit. I thought I'd open the bathroom door to my home so you could experience the conversations my husband, Ed and I have with our pets.


In case you were wondering, (because you haven't read any of the Christmas letters from the critters. Really, it's your loss because they are hilarious) we have 3 dogs; Quincy, Igor and Yeti.
And 9 cats; Moby, Poe, Fathead, Mama, Petunia, Beepers, Lily, Splave & Shocky.

Moby


Please remember them all. There will be a quiz afterwards.


1. Said, by ME, as Ed and I leave the house for the evening,
"No parties tonight. And don't make a mess. Also, I'll remind you again, I don't care what the cats tell you, it's not alright to watch porn so be good."
I did find a used bottle of Shea Butter hand lotion and tissues shoved underneath the couch cushions one time. They tried to blame Ed. But I knew better. Ed doesn't use Shea Butter.


2. "All of you. Cats and dogs included--stop shitting in the living room! The house is not your damn toilet." To which they flip me off behind my back. Where do they learn this disrespect from? Assholes.


3. "Why do you insist on stopping right in front of me when I walk? Are you trying to kill your mom/dad?" This is said on a weekly basis.


4. "Igor, get that turd out of your mouth! Ed, don't let him kiss you. He's got shit lips."

Igor aka Shit Lips




5. Said as I'm going to work in the morning,
"I'll be back later. Mom has to make puppy and kitty food money. How about you go to work for me and I'll stay home and sleep, eat and fart all day."


6. Me:  "Ed, I found a pile of cat shit in the kitchen covered up under the throw rug."
    Ed:   "Whose is it?"
    Me:  "I asked but no one spoke up. There wasn't a note either so I don't know who it was."


7. Said after I come home after work as the dogs sit in the kitchen waiting for treats,
"Dammit, you didn't do the dishes... again and you expect a treat? I gave you a list of chores and could you complete at least one while I'm slaving away at work?  Nooooooooo."


8. Said after I have just cleaned up two blobs of puke, a puddle of pee, a pile of creamy poop that I accidently stepped in and smeared throughout the house.
"F**k, f**k, fuck, F*****************K. I take you into my home and this is what you do to your mother..." This is followed by crying and drinking. Me, not them.


9. While getting a sloppy kiss from one of the pups (usually Quincy).
"Don't French your mother."
Quincy P.- Thinks he's French


10. Said to any one of the animals on any given day,
"Stop fighting with your brother! He's going to kick your ass and I'm not going to yell at him because I told you to leave him alone."


11. "Quit trying to nurse off your mother. You've been in this house for over 10 years! How old are you, 57?" Said to Petunia who is the kitten to the mother cat, Mama, and still attempts to nurse from her....and Mama lets her.


12. "Quincy, I let you sleep on my bed and you wake me up by farting in my face? That is so damn rude. I dreamt I was in Auschwitz!"
Ed slept right through the stench.


13. "Igor, quit trying to steal your brother's treats. You're being a greedy hog. Just because you horsed down your Dreambone, you don't get another one."


14. "Yeti, what do you have in your fur? Is that cat food? Stay the hell out of the cat food. You're not a kitty. Don't you give me that look. Ed, the damn dog gave me 'the look' again."
Yeti- Giving me 'the look'


15. Said at LEAST 10 times a day,
"Lily, stop cleaning up the pee pads you're making a mess."
Lily "cleans" the pee pads when they have anything on them by piling them in a big ball which rolls rogue turds all over the room and causes the dogs to pee on the piles which drips into the carpet. And I drink, why?
She thinks she's Hazel



16. "Ed, don't sit there on the couch just yet. Don't ask me why.....just....don't."


17. "Awww...come on! Did I just step on a turd? (looks at foot) Yep, it's a turd."


18. "Yeti, why does your face smell like puke. Never mind, I don't want to know."


19. "You all drive me fucking crazy... but I love you."


I'm a sucker for a happy ending.....






Sunday, August 14, 2016

Change BAD

My husband Ed cannot handle change. Even the littlest things spaz him out. And lately, I have been doing some crazy things to him that are shaking him to the core.

For example, last week, I bought him different apples. They were out of Jazz apples so I bought these Envy apples.  You'd have thought tried to sell his left nut.

Our guitar player got us a gig in Ligonier which is MAYBE 25 minutes from our house. Ed's response, "In Ligonier? Why all the way out there???"  My response? Did they fucking move Ligonier??? OMG!  Right nut....gone.

Today, I picked up battery powered toothbrushes. Well, these things AND I must be in league with the devil. He says, "Woman, (when he uses WOMAN, I know I'm a totally horrible wife who uses his man parts for soups and stews), Woman, you are pushing me! Pushing me!!!"  Annnnd now I am in possession of his penis.

So change, in Ed- World  is BAD. And I am in possession of all his wrinkly scrotal kibbles N bits.  And I have no damn use for em....I wonder if Ed will want to donate them to the less fortunate. Yeah...I doubt it too.  Change is BAD.

Guess what kind of meat is in the bowl??

Beef ya sick buggers.

Monday, July 25, 2016

When Penises Attack!!

A zombie penis with homicidal tendencies?  Yes please. This 31 page novelette will keep you laughing and gross you out a little at the same time.  It's only 2.99 on Amazon & Barnes and Nobel and it's on Smashwords for even cheaper!  If you dig it, please leave a review. If you don't dig it.....keep it to yourself.  I have enough disappointment in my life......


I think you might like this book – "Bone Sai" by Ruschelle Dillon. Start reading it for free: http://amzn.to/2a7d3iu

Friday, May 27, 2016

Warning: Graphic Photo

WARNING photo is graphic.
Left by the side of the road unwashed and unloved.  Forensics have determined he was tossed from a moving car. Although, the cause of death was drug related, possibly heroin.  Narcan was not administered.

 Eyewitnesses say he may have been in the car with an unidentified family member. Possibly a twin.

Please repost this on your page so we can  bring justice to another lost sole.


Thursday, May 12, 2016

WOMAN!!!!

art by Phillie                                                                                                     Cheesie

Intimate discussions between spouses should not be posted all over the internet for the world to see...unless the discussions are hilarious. And lucky for me, my husband offers up some hilarious interaction.

First off, I should be more respectful of my husband Ed’s anonymity. So from here on out he’ll be known as Clive.

So…one evening, I was sitting on the couch, minding my own business, scrolling through cat videos on Facebook, (They crack me the hell up) when Clive strolled out of the bathroom naked, gently cradling a stack of comic books (He does his best reading in the bathroom) and muttering to himself.

As I stared at his nakedness rifling through comic book stacks on the coffee table, I couldn’t help but giggle. He ignored me but continued grumbling to no one in particular.

I thought, “I’ll bite.”

So I asked in my sweet concerned wife voice, “Hey Babe what cha bitchin about? And why are you airing out your balls?”

Clive gave me the LOOK as he does when I ask him things he deems inappropriate- but surprisingly, he answered my question. Although he never did tell me why he was naked.

“I’m having… issues. Bathroom issues.”

Knowing he was in some sort of distress, I took an interest in helping him out in some way. I am compassionate…sometimes. Okay, so I might not be delicate in my approach but after years of marriage-- why beat around the bush?

“So you can’t poop?”

Again I got the LOOK. Clive is not a man to discuss bodily functions. He finds them distasteful and crude. I, on the other hand, find them highly amusing. He rolled his eyes and headed back towards the bathroom.

I dug my heels in.

“I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

He doubled back into the living room, voice raised and testicles a-flapping.

“No. I can’t.”

I offered what I thought, was helpful advice.

“Did you drink enough water today? Did you eat any fiber?”

He nodded.

“Did you eat too much cheese or hold your poop in too long? Maybe you sat on something hateful and it lodged deep in your ass?”

Ignoring my smart-assed remark, which he does quite often, he simply shook his head no.

“Do you want a laxative?”

“No. I do not want a laxative.” He snorted.

I was running out of ideas. “I may have an old suppository that may or may not work. But I’m not inserting it for you.”

Glaring at me now, he roared, “No, I don’t want you to shove a suppository up my ass.”

“Good cause it ain’t happening.” I snapped back but I wasn’t finished being ‘helpful.’

 “Did you try grabbing each cheek, spreading them out as far apart as possible and just let the poop fall out? I heard lubing up with Crisco helps. I think ours in butter flavored…”

Sufficiently pissed off at me, he bellowed his most famous line to date, “Woman, don’t tell me how to poop!” And he trudged back to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Did he just scream, “Woman, don’t tell me how to poop??” 
Oh... my... God, that is hysterical. My husband is a damn comedian and he doesn’t even know it!

I may have that line carved on his tombstone when he croaks.

To this day, when I’m baking cookies or see a naked man reading comic books, I can’t help but smile and fight the urge to offer the dude what may-or-may-not be a suppository.

Sunday, April 17, 2016

Beware of Grocery Store Bathrooms

Grocery Store Bathrooms; Where People Take Shits....Rings and Pennies


It was my mom's birthday and WE, my mom, dad, husband and myself, decided to take a road trip to State College PA for some shopping. It was a beautiful spring day and the car ride from the hell hole of Johnstown to Nittany Lion Country was enjoyable; with great conversations and coffee fueled pit stops.


One of the stops we enjoy making is Wegman's. For those of you who aren't "in the know," Wegman's is a large grocery store which has everything.


My mom and I went to the restrooms on two separate occasions. Mom ran into the bathroom as soon as we got to the store. She has a small bladder, shut up.


Once finished, she came out of the stall and washed her hands. She had lathered them up with soap as ALL PEOPLE SHOULD BUT DON'T BECAUSE THEY ARE DISGUSTING CREATURES, and a little Asian woman starts a conversation with her about the wedding rings on my mom's hand.


The woman asks her if the diamonds were real. My mom, being a street smart like Jenny from the Block, tells her, 'No, they are Cubic Zirconia."


The little Lotus pod then proceeded to grab my mom's hand saying, "They no CZ's, I can tell. Those are real. Let me see," all the while attempting to pull them off her finger knowing they would come off easier when wet and soapy.


My mom, bends her fingers making it tougher for the rings to come off and stealthily pulls out a sword that she picked up from the sword and nunchuck section of Wegman's which was right outside the women's room (see I told you this store has everything) and hisses, at the stinky tofu woman, "back off bitch."


Suddenly, the woman does a back flip off one of the bathroom stalls and lands in one of the sinks. She reaches into her purse for her own weapon but pulls out a very nice looking eggplant instead. The allure of Wegman's fresh locally sourced produce enticed even a thieving ninja who passed up ninja shit!



The woman, knowing she had been bested, bowed to my mom and said, "your instrument is quite impressive." (You'll get this if you have watched Kill Bill. If you haven't, fuck it. Just keep reading.)


Okay. I may have EMBELLISHED the story a little.


Guess which part?


If you guessed 'fresh, locally sourced produce,' you may be correct. COME ON! Spring in PA sourcing EGGPLANTS? Please.


Wegman's bathroom story number two. Not...'number two'- as in poop. Number 2 as in numeric. Just so we're clear.


It was my turn to use said 'bathroom.' After I did my thang, I hiked up my jeans, which had shallow front pockets.


Well, a penny fell from a pocket and hit the floor with a resounding PING.


Now, I wasn't in too much of a hurry to pick up the single penny that happened to fall almost between the stalls YET... still on MY side. I was actually debating whether to pick it up at all.


So, as I turned around to flush the commode, a well manicured and be-jeweled hand reached over into MY STALL and picked up the penny. MY PENNY! The penny I had debating whether to retrieve or just leave. YES, THAT PENNY!


I know we have ALL picked up found change. I get that. We feel as if the good Lord smiles on us when we come face to presidential face with some shiny coins. But to pick up a worthless penny that you know DROPPED from the person in the stall next to you is a bit....I don't know....gross!


I mean, how certain was this woman that Abe Lincoln wasn't sporting a beard from a rogue short and curly?


What if the penny had been kissed by some 'hot chocolate rain?' I had a lot of coffee. Okay, so this story WAS a little about 'number two.'


OR what if I was carrying my spare change in my spam purse? (If you don't know what a 'spam purse' is ask anyone but your mom...)


I'll bet you're curious as to what I did when our stall doors opened at the same time and I came face to face with the Thieving Penny Whore.


Well let's just say....what happens in a Wegman's bathroom STAYS in a Wegman's bathroom.


Oh and, by the way, that is not my likeness in the BANNED FROM WEGMAN'S poster. The gorgeous blonde goddess in the poster is holding a flaccid eggplant. I would never be caught dead holding a flaccid eggplant. I much prefer the supple feel of a Daikon radish or unwashed rutabaga.

EWWWWWW............................
Add caption





Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Adopt my Uterus...please.

Soooo...they have successfully transplanted a uterus into a woman in the US.  Well, the medical scene is in luck because I have a 'gently used' uterus that would love a new home!

It's housebroken and will 'come when you call' it.... sometimes. It knows tricks too. Like....stay. I told it to stay over 40 years ago and never had to tell it again.

Could someone please give my uterus a good, kind home. I really need to free up the space for my car keys, cell phone and hockey equipment.

I tried to get a pix but it's a little camera shy....

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Cheese Stick Review from THE CLOWN


Review of the NEW Cheese Sticks from

The Uber Popular, ‘Money Grubbing Fast-Food-Chain Bastard’

The CLOWN



I wanted a quick, cheap snack to get me through the rest of my work day, so I pulled into the drive-thru. I was planning to walk through and make vroom-vroom noises just to keep those McBitches on their toes but I decided against it. With my luck, a car pregnant with a dude the size of *Mr. Creosote or *Fat Bastard would be crawling up my ass waiting to order. (*see: Monty Python, The meaning of Life movie or any one of the Austin Power abortions.)

And he’d take one look at my fleshy frame, unhinge his jaw and munch the living shit out of me…with a side of nuggets and a large diet Coke.

But I digress…

I was hankering for French fries but was quickly swayed by the large photo of a brand new unclown-like menu item, CHEESE STICKS. Huzzah! My lactose loving self was excited. It’s not easy to get a good cheese stick in this town. The best ones are served in bars and take a good 15 minutes to prepare which is FOREVER when you are waiting to chase your alcohol with some deep fried breading and coagulated fat.

As I conveyed my order to the faceless chick who I apparently woke up from her nap- I couldn’t help but fantasize about wrapping my lips around the 'ooey gooey phallicy shaped' cheese snacks. Should I swathe them in their marinara dipping sauce or should I take them in my mouth as God intended them to be…naked? I felt a twinge in my groin. Nah, it was my stomach. I was hungry!

So I rolled up to the window, handed the female employee, who was not sleeping as I had originally surmised, my cash. (The chick just had all the personality and enthusiasm of a dead weasel and I was giving her some props with that description.) With my wallet a 1.25 lighter, I drove to the second window and snatched up my PRECIOUS.

As I sped off I knew I couldn’t wait until I got to the office to get my snack on- so dipped my hand in the bag. The box I palmed in my hand was so….tiny. Was this a new size? I didn’t see ‘McFetus-Size’ spelled out on the menu board?

Hummm….So I popped open the box and peered at the contents on my lap. I did a double take. Yes, there were three cheese sticks as depicted on the menu board but they were size of the Fry Guyz wangs. Not wings, WANGS. If they had wangs….


These are the Fry Guys from the Clown’s commercials from the 80’s if you’re too damn young to remember who they are. The stupid bird eventually became the mascot for their chicken nuggets. Well, parts of her did….


In other words, these cheese sticks were friggin miniscule!

Once I shook off the bitter disappointment and quit cursing God the question that was first and foremost in my brain was—would it taste delicious?

I picked up one of the breaded little bastards and sniffed it. It didn’t smell terrible. It didn’t smell like fried cheese either. The scent was reminiscent of a shriveled Polish woman: greasy, poverty stricken and untouched by love or a penis….same thing.

I bit into the semi-crunchy breading. It was tender and gave way to my teeth but left behind a powdery finish. It was as if the outside of the cheese had been sprinkled with flour or rat poisoning or both.

Sinking my chompers into the cheese I began to chew. The breading and milk fats danced over my tongue. I swished it all through my mouth as if I was tasting wine, breathing air in through my nose to enhance the 'full-cheese-bouquet.'  While waiting at a red light it slid down my gullet. I smacked my lips together and used my tongue to floss any bits and hangers-on from my not-so-pearly-whites.

As the light turned green so did my face.

The cheese stick tasted like Shit. Oh excuse me, McShit!

Okay, maybe I had gotten a bad stick. It happens. So with all the enthusiasm of a dead weasel (yep, same dead weasel as a few sentences ago) I consumed another one.

And dammit, it sucked as bad as the first one.

I had been McFucked!

I wanted to spit out the disgusting remnant but since my momma taught me that 'spitting food out my face was wasteful unless it was into a baby bird’s mouth'- I ‘swallowed’ like an old porn star after a proper fluffing.

With one orphan cheese stick left, I debated if it would be worth slathering it in the cup of COLD marinara sauce. Maybe THAT would somehow change the "flavor profile".  Honestly, I didn’t want to eat the last one. But to provide you with a proper review I knew I would have to put my fat-ass girl panties on and try it. 

You bastards owe me.

Sooo....I dunked the disgusting cheese stick in the marinara sauce and shoved it in my hole. (I meant my mouth, ya perv.)
And guess what?  It STILL sucked. The marinara was awful. AWFUL!

I wasted 200 calories on that shit. When will I ever learn?

I give the goddamn Clown--- 0 Noms out of 5.
You can do better Clown.
Guess who ain't 'LOVING IT?'





The Horror Tree interview with THE Liz Butcher

https://horrortree.com/the-horror-tree-presents-an-interview-with-liz-butcher/