Monday, April 30, 2012

Fifty Shades of Redneck Recap

In the past I've given you folks my redneck recap of some fashion dos and don'ts on various red carpet events, so today I thought I would branch out and give you my redneck opinion of the book EVERYBODY and their SISTA is talkin' about. WHEW, if you have not read it people, I suggest gettin' yourself a copy, either lockin' yourself in your bedroom with a fully charged vibrator, or preparing your significant other for some head bangin', mind blowin' sex about five times a day until you are finished with the book. Oh yeah, and there are two sequels. That means take a brief respite and go at it again!!!!

Now seriously, the book is about the beautiful, innocent, soon to be college graduate Anastasia Steele, who meets and falls in love with the insanely handsome, billionaire Christian Grey who just happens to have a penchant for some wildly kinky sex. Not just your regular run of the mill kinky sex, but all out S&M, dominant/submissive (BDSM) kind of shit. Ya know the kind where he's the boss, she does whatever he says, she can't look him in the eye, and she has to call him "Sir". If she messes up, he beats her ass- HARD!!!! And she's supposed to like it 'cause it's ALL for her pleasure for God's sake!!!


What I immediately found interesting was the fact that Anastasia was this 22 year old virgin who rarely, if ever, even kissed a boy, and the first time she gives Christian a blow job he gives her an "A" on her performance???? DAMN, I know her character was highly intelligent and she probably read "Fellatio For Dummies", but holy shit an "A" on her first ever blow job???? No gag reflex???? No throwing up on her first taste of salty semen???? I sure could have used some pointers from Anastasia in college while one of my friends taught me the art of giving a good BJ using a carrot in a local watering hole. Somehow that carrot really didn't prepare me for the real deal.

I did find the terminology of Ana's vagina quite distracting. No one refers to that body part as "their sex". Nope, call it a pussy, Susie Q, a vajayjay, whatever, just not "your sex". And I gotta keep it real for ya here folks. References to Ana's pubic hair must be inaccurate. Unless she is a member of some quirky "save the bush brigade", isn't everybody in the 20'something age group waxed and/or lasered as smooth as a baby's bottom????? But now Ana must be Wonder Woman 'cause when she loses her virginity, there was no mention of how much it hurt, given the fact that Mr. Grey is so well endowed. And Christian is surely Superman,  'cause he magically gives Ana 2 or 3 orgasms on her first time. GEEZ!!!!! It took me YEARS and several sexual partners later to have my very first orgasm. When I finally had my first glorious climax I shouted out to the world, "Damn, this guy's a keeper". And folks, it's been almost 26 years later and I've managed to keep my Magic Man.

Now admittedly Christian is a bit of a control freak and can be quite the stalker, and I can understand why Ana gets pissed off at those parts of his personality. But hell, the guy buys her a set of first edition books, a new computer, designer clothes, a blackberry, a new Audi and first class airfare and she still has the audacity to feel like a ho. GET OVER YOURSELF CHICK!!!!! Every woman dreams about being Christian's ho and you want to complain???? Shit, with that kinda swag, Christian could blind fold me, tie me to the bed post, and beat my wrinkly ass with one of his riding crops and I would gladly say "Thank You Sir", and sincerely mean those three precious words.

Now there is a contract that Christian wants Ana to sign filled with all kinds of gobbledy gook about what types of sexual activities they will perform with each other and what types of "accessories" Christian is allowed to use on Ana for her pleasure. But my favorite part of the contract was the clause dealing with her personal health. Ana was allowed no between meal snacking except fruit, she had to have 8 hours of sleep per night, and 4 days of workouts a week with a personal trainer at Christian's expense. This would require serious negotiations on my part as it did for Ana. The best line in the entire book is when Ana says, "He can dictate the way I fuck, but not what I eat". AMEN SISTA!!!!!! That is a hard limit. A girl's gotta draw the line somewhere!!! First of all, I need at least 9-10 hours of sleep per night, and I eat 4 small meals a day, and I rarely snack on fruit 'cause that doesn't fill me up. I need protein baby, especially if I was to keep up my stamina for the likes of Christian Grey. Yeppers, meals are my own domain. That dom wouldn't be able to tell me how or when to eat. Plus, I need chocolate after every meal. I got no problem melting it and puttin' it all over him if he wants a tongue lickin' for dessert, but you deprive me of my chocolate and you gonna be the one tied up and gettin' your sorry ass whipped til you can't sit down for a week mister!!!!!

So whether you are into BDSM or not, one thing is for sure. I imagine stores like True Value Hardware have seen an increase in their sales on ropes, chains, and pulleys since this book has swept the nation. Who knew kinky sex could have such a positive effect on this economy????

There are still 3 days left to enter the raffle for TNS Line Refine, the awesome product that helped diminish the wrinkles around my eyes. Click Here for details.

Images via Google Images

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Weekend Wisecrack

Is that one dude wearing a wrestling singlet???? Please say it isn't so!!!!
Image: Here


There are 4 more days to enter to win TNS Line Refine, the fantabulous anti-wrinkle potion that has helped to reduce the crow's feet on this old hag. Click Here for details about this amazing product and to enter the raffle.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Wrinkles Be Gone


OK folks, I know we are all destined to look like this little cutie one of these days, but I ain't goin' down without a fight. Are you tired of lookin' in the mirror and seeing your destiny? If so, then I have GREAT news to share with you. As some of you know, I enjoy spreading the good word whenever I learn about something that I think is worth sharin' the love. That just gives me joy to see other people experience things that I find so amazing.


Well lemme tell ya folks, TNS Line Refine by Skin Medica is some good shizz!!!! If it can help diminish fine lines and wrinkles on an old hag like me, then it is liquid gold baby. I started using this product around my eyes back in October when I was freaking out about my 30th high school class reunion. In about two weeks, my crow's feet started lookin' like little humming bird kisses. Now I ain't gonna lie to ya. Yes, I get Botox, but I've been doin' that for over a decade, and I know which products work to help diminish the lines in between gettin' shot up with that delicious poison, and which products you may as well wipe your butt with 'cause they ain't doin' your face no good. And this shizz WORKS!!!!

The beauty of TNS Line Refine is that you can use it around your eyes, mouth or anywhere on your face you see lines or wrinkles. And ladies, (and men if you are so inclined), you can wear makeup right over top of this product. I have used plenty of anti-wrinkle eye creams in my day that were so greasy that I could never put makeup on over top of that slimy mess. With Line Refine you can dab it on, slap on your makeup, and you are good to go.

Now this is my first EVAH product review and let me give you this disclaimer right now. I received NO compensation whatsoever for writing this review. However, if the fine folks at Skin Medica would like to hire me to test and/or review any of their products I'm available. I can even be a good girl and clean up my potty mouth for ya like I did in this review. Do ya here that Skin Medica????? I'm just  a redneck chick who tried this product, LOVED it, wants to spread the love, and thought one lucky blog visitor might enjoy it too. Heck, I even contacted the Skin Medica sales rep in my area all on my own and got down on my knees and begged for one free tube of this fantabulous stuff to be given away to one of my discriminating readers. This shizz has a retail value of $75, so we ain't talkin' trash here folks. As the old sayin' goes "ya gotta play to win". Good luck and have fun kickin' those nasty wrinkles to the curb!!!!   

Also, please click on over to the hilariously funny Vanessa at 5 Things About Nothing Important where I'm honored to be the guest blogger today giving my redneck opinion of Brad and Angelina's engagement. I sure hope I met Vanessa's high standard of humor 'cause that girl always makes me laugh out loud and sometimes she even makes me pee my pants a little.

Image via Google Images

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Mel's Meltdown

For today's Wacky Wednesday, I thought I would give my redneck opinion of a man clearly on the edge of a severe meltdown. Poor Mel Gibson obviously needs some anger management classes and some sort of cocktail mixed with the likes of Xanax, Valium and Prozac.






Following is a transcript of a rant by Mel Gibson to screenwriter Joe Eszterhas in Costa Rica. It was recorded by Eszterhas' son Nick in December and obtained by The Wrap.
(Editor's Note: This transcript contains highly offensive language)


Mel – (screaming the whole time)
Why don’t I have a first draft of "The "Maccabees"?
What the fuck have you been doing?
I’ll type it!
— mumbling inaudible —
It’s her!
— mumbling inaudible —
I go to work, you’re getting paid, I’m not! Shit!
I am earning money for a filthy little cocksucker who takes advantage of me!
Just like every motherfucker!
So hurry the fuck up!
(Throwing things, knocking down the totem pole)
Fuck! God!
(Coming up from the billiard room and approaching the table and screaming at the top of his lungs in the face of his guests)
Who wants to eat?! Who the fuck wants to eat?! Go have something to eat! Hurrrrraaaaayyyyyy!
(Screaming)
Fuck!
Fuck!
Fuck!
Fuckin' hate!
Fucking cunt cocksucker whore!
(Very hoarse)
 Fuck!
(Screaming as he runs toward the driveway, gets into his car and drives away)


WHOO WEE, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed now didn't they? But folks, ya gotta give Mel credit for using the "f bomb" in the most creative fashion possible. I believe he uses the "f bomb" as pretty much every part of speech, except as an adverb in his meltdown. Guess it would be pretty difficult to use the word "fuckly", or "fuckingly" in a tantrum of that sort. Maybe if it wasn't so off the cuff, he would have enlightened us with an imaginative adverb or two.




Here is a recent picture of Mel at his latest movie premiere. Is it just me, or does Mel have the crazed look in his eyes? Ya know that look people get right before the tirade that ends up with the men in the white suits comin' at ya with the big hypodermic needle and a straight jacket? Whether it's a rant about race, Jews, or his ex girlfriend Oksana Grigorieva, it's becoming clear that Mel might need a little time away for "personal issues or exhaustion" as the publicists like to say. I'm thinkin' his BFF Jodie Foster might want to schedule an intervention before ol' Mel hurts somebody. Seriously, if one of my good friends was actin' like that, I would bitch slap her and tell her what an asshole she's being. If there was still danger, it's intervention time with Dr. Drew baby, and I get first dibs on that hottie!!!!!


It just doesn't seem like the guy who was once hailed as "The Sexiest Man Alive" is gonna win any popularity contests anytime soon. Maybe what Mel needs is just a good ol' fashioned ass whoopin'. How about puttin' him in a rubber room with wacko Charlie Sheen when that "winner" goes on a bender and see who comes out still standin'? Charlie's got youth and tiger blood on his side, but Mel's got experience and some kick ass moves from his action flick days. Pretty fair fight I would think.


Images: Here

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Jorts- An American Original

Hey, does my tat match the bling on my jorts?


Got your attention didn't I??? Well, if you want to continue reading about jorts, the fashion faux pas, please click on over to the lovely and talented Random Girl  where I have the distinct honor of guest posting for her today while she is off enjoying some fun in the sun. It's a quality read you won't want to miss!!!

Monday, April 23, 2012

Muffler Diving

Hey guys, does the sight of that shiny, silver muffler give you a rock hard boner? Well apparently it is a definite turn on to at least one dude in my local community 'cause he was found shagging a car muffler in one of our local parks. Yeppers, I heard it straight from an esteemed member of an elite crime fighting task force who took a solemn oath to support and defend the constitution of the United States. Believe me, when this man tells ya something, you stand up straight and listen 'cause ya don't want him EVAH knockin on your door!!!!!!

So yea, some wacko was actually fucking a car muffler. I've heard of muff diving before, but never muffler diving. Folks he's truly takin' the phrase "layin' some pipe" literally!!! Now I'm thinkin' the dude must be seriously well endowed to actually get his rocks off on a muffler. DAMN, I know girth is more important than length in the grand scheme of things, but that's just takin' width to an entirely different level. That guy must have the Midas Touch fo' sho. Can you even imagine the circumference of the guy's dick who would think it was pleasurable to screw something of that nature??? Whew, after a lay like that, he must have been EXHAUSTed.


Perhaps the muffler was a tighter fit like this one. Almost virginal don't ya think? And MY GAWD, I certainly hope the car had been turned off for awhile, before Mr. Sicko started bumpin' uglies 'cause a third degree burn on his pecker just ain't gonna be purty no matter how ya look at it. Now what about the poor car? It has no legal recourse for rape. It can't testify against the guy in court. I suppose if the car had super powers like Herbie the Love Bug or Kitt from Knight Rider it could have shifted into reverse and run over the wack job. Talk about coitus interruptus!!!! 

Holy shit, if that crazy bastard ever saw a vehicle like this, his dick would be bustin' outta his pants 'cause ya know he's thinkin' foursome baby!!!!!! TOTAL ORGY!!!!!! WHOO HOO!!!!!! LAWD, I just hope this dude practices safe sex 'cause we sure don't need our parking lots in little ol' Wilmington crawlin' with STD's.

Images via Google Images

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Weekend Wisecrack

Either the Partridge Family is making a resurgence, or someone in this Asheville, NC neighborhood was tripping on the local psychedelic mushrooms.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Lunch on the Go


Have you ever gone grocery shopping and found yourself sharing the aisles with the same person over and over again? Such was the case with me the other day as I was doing my big Sam's Club shopping.  I kept seeing this one particular family. They were an imposing bunch in the amount of space they were taking up in each aisle because they had 2 shopping carts. One shopping cart held 2 toddlers in the very front, much like the picture above except they were facing outward, or backwards so I could see their tiny faces at every turn. The main compartment of that cart was taken up by a baby locked in a baby carrier. The other shopping cart held all of their items they were going to purchase. There were 2 women accompanying these 3 children.

Now as I made my way around the store it seemed as if I kept running into this particular family. They always seemed to stop at every food sample station and I had to navigate my cart around their 2 carts. All fine and dandy. I had my list and I was on a mission. I never really thought much about it until I was directly behind them in the check out line.

As they are placing their items from the one cart onto the check out belt, they open up their $4.99 rotisserie chicken and just start chowin' down right there in line. Each toddler gets a leg and is just happy as a clam. The women are rippin' into the chicken, lickin' their fingers, all the while just placing their industrial sized package of toilet paper, frozen raviolis and tampons onto the belt. I'm lookin' around wondering if no one else is thinkin' this is a bit strange except me.

But then it clicked. These women are fucking geniuses!!!!! They just fed their kids and themselves for under 5 bucks, got a bunch of free appetizers, didn't have to take the kids out of the cart, got all of their shopping done while filling up their tummies and they are on their merry way. Talk about the queens of multi-tasking. Brilliant idea!!!!

Now I have 2 growing teenage boys so I'm going to adopt their method to suit my own personal style. I hear the free samples are better on the weekends, so I'm takin' my kids to Sam's around dinner time tomorrow to stock up on all the free appetizers. Then I'm thinkin' we will "borrow" one of their nice shiny grills to fire up our juicy steaks we just purchased in the meat department. No sense puttin' the wear and tear on my grill at home when they got 'em right there in the center section. Plus, they got all the comforts of home at Sam's. Hell, I can try out a folding chair, a lounge chair, or even a desk chair while my steak is grillin'. My boys can toss around a football or a Frisbee 'cause they got those too in the toy section. Seriously, may as well make a night out of it. I can grab a DVD or two, pop it into one of their DVD players and watch a movie. They even have microwave popcorn and microwaves so I'm set for the entire evening. Oh and let's not forget their awesome selection of beer and wine. I'm tellin' ya folks, those ladies who lunched on the go taught me a lesson I can certainly use.

The only thing Sam's Club is lacking is an after hours activity department. I'm reading "Fifty Shades of Grey" right now and if Uncle Jeffy and I want to act out any of the scenes, we need a fully stocked hardware section. I guess I'll have to talk to management about that.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Who's Got Big Balls?

It's another edition of Wacky Wednesday folks, and since I wrote about cooters yesterday, I thought it was only fair that I talk about some male genitalia today. I sure don't want the guys who visit my site to feel slighted in any way. So dudes, does summer time conjure up visions of the beach, sand, surf, bikinis and suntan lotion? OH YEA, how about some beach balls?????? Check out the story below that my friend Erin shared with me:

Now that gives beach balls a whole new meaning huh? First of all, is it really comfortable to sit on a deckchair with your nuts hanging between two slats, regardless of the fact that they have a shrinkage issue? HHHHHMMMMM that would be like us women folk laying face down with our tits wedged between two slabs of wood. Most chicks would not be diggin' that. So then when his love spuds started expanding back to "NORMAL" size, ya mean to tell me he didn't feel any pressure from the slats and try to rearrange his entire package? That's just not typical male behavior folks. Guys never seem to have a problem reachin' down, scratchin' or movin' things around. So I'm thinkin' this dude LIKED IT!!!! UH HUH, he got off on it like some sort of testicle clamp. Talk about a ball buster!!!! He got more than he bargained for outta his little S&M activity. 


BUT DAMN, Mr. Visnjic must have some giant fucking "normal" sized cojones for them to get stuck between the slats of a deckchair. I can see why he was swimming naked 'cause there ain't no way he's gonna be able to stuff his gargantuan gonads into a teeny weeny speedo. He would have a nasty case of man-toe or camel foot if he EVAH tried sportin' any type of bathing suit. Now the dude is really missin' his claim to fame, 'cause he needs to be listed in The Guinness Book of World Records for the world's biggest live beach balls. MY GAWD, when he slaps his salami think of the geyser that must shoot out when he reaches his happy ending. Run for cover folks 'cause you sure as hell don't want to get caught up in that tsunami!!! 

And LAWD, some people are SOOOOOOOOO dramatic!!!  Calling beach maintenance on your cell phone to have them cut the deckchair in half to free your family jewels?????? "Security, Security, please send help. My nuts are stuck and I can't get up". Why cause such a scene??? Has Mr. Visnjic never heard that you can use your chair as a flotation device? Just pick up the chair, get back in the cold water, have yourself a good ol' time splashin' around on your own personally attached floatie, and when your beach balls shrink from the cold water, VOILA, the chair will magically drift out to sea and your manjigglies are free at last.

Either way you look at the situation, I truly can not think of a more appropriate way to end this post other than with some AC/DC "Who's Got Big Balls". ROCK ON!!!


As always, thanks so much Erin for the scoop!
Images  Here and Google Images

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Cold Hard Cooter Cash

Ladies, do you value yourself? I mean have you ever REALLY thought about placing a number value on your body. Well, I'm here to tell ya that your cooter alone is costin' ya some cold hard cash so ya better increase your worth real damn quick!!! My friend Kristen sent me this article from Jezebel about how much it costs yearly to maintain a vagina, and the number is staggering folks!!!! Yeppers it costs over $2,600 a year for birth control, feminine hygiene products, PMS relief, pelvic exams, feminine itching and yeast infection products, urinary tract infection remedies, pubic hair removal and toilet paper. Now that's just for the very basic bearded clam. You add in laser hair removal, prescriptions for serious head spinnin' during PMS, or any other female complications or surgeries, and the price rises dramatically.

WHO KNEW????????? You take that number and multiply it by the number of years you have been using these products and you got yourself some SERIOUS value!!!! Hell at my age my pussy is worth over 6 figures. I've got a six figure pussy folks and I'm damn proud of it!!!!! (Yea, I actually calculated the exact number and it's frightening)

Now all you single ladies, I'm thinkin' you need to get yourself a big ol' money jar and start asking your dates, boyfriends, significant others etc. to start contributing to the "Cooter Cash Stash". Seriously, guys just don't have the same expense, and let's face it, all they really want is to get laid. Well, if they want a piece of your highly valued pussy, they are gonna have to pay for it. I know, I know, the word "ho" comes to mind. Please don't think of it like you are selling your body. Au contraire!!!!!!!!! You have spent a shit load of money maintaining your vajayjay over the years, and why should some dude come along and get his rocks off for free???? Like the old saying goes, "there ain't no free lunch".  Seriously, if you had an expensive Ferrari would you allow some Joe Schmo to drive it for free? HELL NO, you would not. Think of your little prized Suzie Q the same way.  Married women, I'm not so sure we can charge for nookie anymore. After all, we did stand up before God and all of our friends and family and sort of promise that what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine. BUMMER!!!


However, I do think this issue can become a real advantage when it comes to salary negotiations for a job. Gone are the days when men make more money than women simply because they have a Y chromosome. Oh Yea, you heard it here first folks!!!! Women simply NEED to make more money to cover the cost of their beavers. At the interview it is now essential to have a print out of an itemized yearly list of related expenses for your cock holster, that must be included in your salary. Folks, this information is also crucial to anyone in line for a raise. Demand that your boss give you a raise equal to your annual cooter expenses, multiplied by the amount of years you have been with the company. Cooters cost cold hard cash to maintain and we women must fight for our rights in the workplace.


One thing is for damn sure. I'm gonna treat my 6 figure pussy like the highly valued goddess she is!!!!  After spendin' all that cold hard cash on her over the years, she certainly deserves some nice, new, lacy hankie pankies, and perhaps even a trip to Adam and Eve is in order so she can get a brand new shiny toy. That's what I'm talkin' about!!!

Thank you Kristen for the scoop on this cooter story.
Images via Google images

Monday, April 16, 2012

Smelling The Fear

Some of you know that I have a real, genuine fear of fish stemming from an incident about 27 years ago when I actually saw a fish jump out of a lake and bite my brother in law on his nipple. That big ol' redneck of a guy screamed like a girl, he had teeth marks rimming his nipple, and his nipple started bleeding. That is a visual that I will just NEVAH be able to erase from my mind. Since then, I rarely, if ever get in the ocean. However, on our recent trip to Grand Cayman, I made a deal with my boys that if they went horseback riding on the beach, (which they considered lame), then I would allow them to teach me to snorkel. There is a picture of me with my gear on ready to take the plunge.


Now my kids and Uncle Jeffy had been snorkeling for a few days right in front of our condo while I was perfectly happy sitting on my ass reading a trashy magazine sipping frozen alcoholic concoctions. But, a deal is a deal. The kids rode horses, so now it was my turn to snorkel. So there I am facing my fears head on with Ry Guy going out to the deep blue sea. All of the fish the guys were seeing over the past several days had been little colorful fish, so I thought, "Cool, I can do this". You see those white buoys WAY out there in the picture. UH HUH, Ry Guy and I swam out there, which was about 50 yards from shore. Everything was fine and dandy and the little fish were really pretty. I have to admit that I was gettin' the hang of this snorkeling thing and my confidence was building.

But then all of a sudden, without any warning, a HUGE, HULKIN', 4 foot, silver fish swims right underneath my belly. WWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! I screamed into my snorkel for all of the underworld to hear. Ry Guy sees it too, I put his arm in a death grip, and start swimming for shore like Jaws is chasing us. Believe me, I have NEVAH in my entire life wanted to be on the swim team before, but that day I sure as hell did!!! I swam with Ry Guy attached to me as fast as I could, and I'm a very weak swimmer at best. My adrenalin was beating so damn fast that I probably could have given Michael Phelps a run for his money!!!!

We made it back to shore safe and sound and I promptly self medicated with a frozen fruity drink with an extra shot of rum, and a 1/2 of a Xanax to calm down my nerves. I was literally shaking from head to toe. We described the fish to a scuba instructor who said, "Oh Yea that was a barracuda, they are out there all the time". Had I known that the silver fish that swam underneath my belly was a fucking barracuda, I would have surely had a heart attack and died on the spot, and poor Ry Guy would have had to witness his mother sinking to her watery grave.

A few hours later when the medication had cured me, Ry Guy wanted to go play tennis. AAAAAHHHHHH, something nice and easy. Hittin' a little yellow ball around. No problem. We go down to the tennis courts and have ourselves a good ol' time swattin' the ball back and forth for about 20 minutes. I hit Ry Guy a ball, he misses, turns to pick it up and I hear the most GAWD AWFUL scream I have EVAH heard come out of that boy's mouth.

Sitting about a foot away from his feet is a GIANT, green iguana. The thing is just sitting there, looking up at Ry Guy like he owns the tennis court. If you have never seen one of those dudes, they have got to be the ugliest things on the planet. UGH, so prehistoric lookin'!!!!! I'm screamin' at Ry Guy to jump the net, to come on over to my side so we can escape. We ran around like lunatics, gathering up our stuff, and left by the only gate, which was closed by the way. So, I'm thinkin', "How in the hell did that green monster get in those tennis courts when the gate was closed"???? Where did that fucker come from????

The only thing I know for sure about that crazy ass day is that the critters in Grand Cayman smelled our fear and came lookin' for us. The silver fish of the sea smelled my fear and swam right underneath me to show me he was the king and I was invading his castle. Then the iguana smelled fear on my boy and wanted to show him we were stepping on his territory. I'm tellin' ya folks, wear your deodorant, try not to sweat, and NEVAH let 'em smell the fear 'cause you will be in a heap of trouble!!!!

Images via Google Images

Friday, April 13, 2012

Finding My Funny!


As some of you know, when I started writing this blog 5 short months ago, I did so in response to many people who told me they thought my Facebook posts were really funny. Several friends then told me what a blog was, and that they thought I could expand upon "the funny" via the blogosphere. My goal has always been to spread joy to you folks through my warped and wacky sense of humor. Hopefully you found some gut busting laughs along the way.

Now I gotta keep it real for ya here people. I never really thought of myself as funny. In fact, there were times in my life when I was a mean, hateful bitch, times when I was a lost, depressed soul, and times when I felt no emotions whatsoever. But magically, as I'm approaching the BIG 5-0, with wrinkles on my face that can thankfully be minimized with the help of Botox every 3 months, gray hair that needs attention every 5 weeks, cellulite on my thighs that looks like a container of cottage cheese, and tits that fall down to my waist when I take off my bra, I found true, sustainable joy in the simple pleasures of everyday life. Along with that joy at my ripe old age, came the funny. Today, I thought I would share with you some of my tricks that helped me find real joy, just in case any of you are still searching.


Now before I begin, I am making this disclaimer right now: I have no formal training in the happiness business. I'm just a redneck chick who's been unhappy, had anger management problems and depression issues. Been there, done that, don't wanna do it again. I will give credit to people and quotes along the way, but basically ya gotta take any advice you receive and tailor it to your own individual circumstances. Life ain't a set of cookie cutters folks. That's why there's chocolate, vanilla and strawberry!!!!!

1.  YOU, and ONLY YOU, can make the decision to be happy. Yeppers, my awesome friend Grayson, who also happens to be a therapist, drilled this into my head many, many nights at local watering holes. You can allow other people or circumstances to dictate the way you feel, or you can put on your big boy or big girl panties and basically say, "Fuck it, I'M in control of my life and I CHOOSE to be happy". HAPPINESS IS A CHOICE FOLKS!!!!!!!!! It's not just for the lucky few who scored big on a scratch off happiness lottery ticket. Happiness is right there in front of your very own eyelashes. All ya gotta do is CHOOSE TO BE HAPPY!!!

2.  Learn to live by this declutter mantra: "Only surround yourself with people and things that bring you joy or add value to your life. Get rid of everything else". I read that in an issue of the Oprah magazine a couple of years ago, and believe me, when you start removing toxic people from your life, you will feel so incredibly free. Take stock of the people in your inner circle. Do they bring you real joy or add significant value to your life? If not, remove them from your life just like you would (hopefully) remove that pair of 1983 acid wash jeans from your closet. There is just no need to keep that junk in your life. And remember, the Facebook "defriend" button can become your new BEST friend!!!!!!! You don't have to read any of that toxic shit anymore. YEE HAH!!!!!! That garbage is dead and gone, just like you flipped on the garbage disposal.

3.  The V.I.P. party. I give my beautiful and amazing therapist (who I legitimately pay) credit for this gem. Think of your mind as having a V.I.P. party every single day, and you only have a certain number of coveted invitations to divvy out. Do you want to waste those invites on some jerk who pissed you off, or do you want to save those invites for people who bring you real joy? The point being, don't waste your precious mental energy thinking about people who just ain't worth your time like the fuckhead who cut you off in traffic this morning, or the ass wipe who ripped you off at the body shop. Save your gold plated invites for those people who really matter to you!!!!!


4.  The last one for today comes from my very dear elementary school friend Erin. She calls it the "Fuck You Bucket", and I think it's brilliant. When someone does you really wrong, instead of stewing about it, or plotting revenge (which can eat you up inside), imagine stuffing that person's sorry ass into a bucket labeled "Fuck You". Visualize them sitting in that stupid bucket, looking lame as hell, and you get to walk away. Just walk away. Fuck you and walk away. You are done with them. TOTALLY DONE. Finished!!!! Finito. Then you have the distinct pleasure of flushing that entire bucket down the toilet, and their ugly ass goes to sewer hell where it belongs with all of the other sloppy, stinky shit. Talk about lightening your load!!!! That one puts a spring in your step fo' sho!!!

Like I said, I obviously have no formal training in finding my funny or curing the world's ills. What I do know, is what worked for me, and I hope some of these tricks can be helpful to folks 'cause LAWD knows we all struggle with somethin'!!!!! If you find these tips interesting, I got more tidbits up my sleeve. I just wanna keep on keepin' it real for ya and hopefully puttin' a smile on your lovely faces. Now go share a laugh or two this weekend!!!

Images and Quotes Via Google Images

Thursday, April 12, 2012

The Weed At The Garden Party

It's Azalea Festival time again here in Wilmington and that means scads of people comin' to town to celebrate our beautiful azalea bushes for 5 fun filled days of activities. WHOO HOO!!!! Since I'm a transplanted Yankee livin' in this southern town, it took me quite awhile to get used to ALL things south of the Mason-Dixon Line, but most especially 5 full days dedicated to a flower.

The HIGHLIGHT of these 5 days is the annual Garden PAR-TAY tomorrow where anybody who IS anybody will be in attendance for a mere $150 per ticket to stand in line for a barbeque buffet and to fight your way through the crowd for a cocktail. Now when I first arrived in town 15 years ago, I was a working attorney. I was the only female attorney in the firm, and the guys told me about the PAR-TAY a few days before the big event. There was a strict rule at our firm that we were NEVAH allowed to drink alcohol at lunch with clients, regardless of whether the clients ordered a drink. The senior partner informed me that Garden PAR-TAY day was the one and only exception to that rule.


HHHHMMMMMMMM, I thought this must be some sort of special event huh? So, I put on my best herringbone patterned suit that day, nude hose, and navy close toed lawyerly like pumps. I think I even went all out and put a fancy pin on my lapel.

Imagine my surprise when I got to the PAR-TAY and all the women were dressed like that, and I looked like Susan Boyle before she was discovered by Simon Cowell. Deb, the lawyer, looked like a dried up, nasty, fucking weed, amongst beautiful, luscious, spring like flowers. Yeppers, I was the weed at the Garden PAR-TAY!! I truly wanted to hide in those damn azalea bushes and not come out until they were sweeping up the last barbeque residue. DAMN, that was one of the most embarrassing days of my life!!!!!

However, I rebounded quite nicely and that garden PAR-TAY became a highlight for many, many years. It was a drunk fest from 9am til 9pm. Hell, sometimes I even wore a fancy hat just like I was born and bred in these here parts. Our posse had a whole routine. We would go to this certain place for breakfast at 9am and load up with carbs (to soak up the inevitable alcohol) and share a few mimosas. Then we would be the first arrivals when the gates to the PAR-TAY opened at 10:30am and get first dibs on the cocktails. The guys would set up "base camp", meaning they would park their asses on folding chairs, while the ladies started workin' the crowd. If we got separated we always knew where base camp was located. All day in the sun drinking cocktails sure gives you a nice buzz. But when the gates close about 3'ish EVERYBODY who is ANYBODY goes to the after PAR-TAY down by the water. Now most people go to this certain establishment, but you are literally standing shoulder to shoulder, and I swear one of these days that dock is going to collapse with hundreds of people falling into the intracoastal waterway dressed in their Garden PAR-TAY finest. We always preferred to go to the less crowded joint next door where we could actually have a waitress, a seat, and a view of the water. We would stay partying our asses off until someone in the crowd had sense enough to say it was time to go home. Lights out, PAR-TAY over.

There is a picture of me and the gals at the last garden PAR-TAY I attended 3 years ago. That's me on the far right end (sans hat). Although I have fond memories of the PAR-TAY, as they say, all good things must come to an end. I feel as if I finally "aged out" of this tradition. Gettin' all dressed up, liquored up and peeing and fallin' down in the azalea bushes just doesn't hold the same appeal to me anymore. Now if I want to do those things, I prefer to do them either in the privacy of my chambers, or with a few good friends, rather than in front of the whole damn town.

Last year on Garden PAR-TAY day I had a small gathering at my house for like-minded individuals  who are also tired of the crowds and all the hoopla. There was still the famous garden PAR-TAY punch, barbeque, and a fancy hat or two. I even peed in my own azalea bushes just to keep the spirit of the real Garden PAR-TAY alive!!!!

Monday, April 9, 2012

Still On Island Time

Hey folks, I wanted to thank all of you dedicated blogging friends for commenting on my prefabbed posts last week while I was on VACAY!!! You guys ROCK, and I truly felt like part of a community. You kept my blog alive, even though you probably thought I was MIA. A HUGE thanks to Pickleope for being my guest blogger on Monday. That "Am I Ugly" post was a hit!!!! And how about The Blue Orchid , Wily Guy, Vanessa, and Monkey Butt for actually playing along with my twisted game of "Would You Rather" on Wacky Wednesday? They all had such witty responses to all 10 crazy questions. I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!!!! So my goal this week is to play catch-up with all of you and find out what you have been doing. I will be back in full comment mode fo' sho!!!!

Vacation on Grand Cayman was AWESOME!!!! The picture above was the view from our balcony. Pretty sweet huh? As amazing as the island was, you know how I like to keep it real for ya though. After spending $5 for a gallon of milk, $8 for a gallon of gas, and $300 most nights for standard dinner fare, Uncle Jeffy's wallet needed a break back in the good ol' USA. That $3.86 at the gas pump here in North Cackalacky didn't seem so bad after all!!!!!

So folks, after I put down my frozen, fruity, alcoholic concoction, wash the sand off my feet, and get off island time, I will be right back with ya. Thanks so much again for indulging me with your comments. I promise to pay it forward.

Friday, April 6, 2012

Here Comes Peter Cottontail

As Easter approaches I can't help but recall some of my favorite Easter memories as a child. Painting Easter eggs, going on thrilling egg huts, waking up early on Easter morning to see what the Easter bunny left me in my basket, and then putting on a fancy new dress for church. But my all time favorite Easter memories are those of my college years. Easter always fell over spring break, and all of my friends were home from college. A group of us would get together every year and go bunny huntin'. Now this was an annual event folks, and something not for the faint of heart.

We would drive around town at night in search of tacky Easter decorations much like the house pictured above. Then we would park the car up the street, get into full stealth mode, creep into the yard or onto the porch, and steal the plastic Easter bunnies. Of course we would then laugh until we peed our pants. Off we would go in search of more Griswold decor. Why would we do such a stupid ass thing you ask????? Because we were fucking idiot college kids who thought we were bad asses really getting away with something. THANK GAWD, the statue of limitations has long since expired on larceny, theft, trespassing and any other related crimes.

Now my strict Pennsylvania Dutch father did not really find the humor in this little stunt, especially since we stored all of the bunnies in my parents' basement. So, our little hellraiser gang decided that over summer break we would all get together and return the bunnies to their rightful owners with a little twist. We taped crazy notes on the rabbits before we returned them such as, "I'm sorry I was gone for so long, but I had to hop on over to my one true love". Or something like, "Peter Cottontail's gang kidnapped me and I couldn't hop my way back to you". Yeah, I know it was lame ass, but it still felt like we had the upper hand since we had to return the damn plastic Easter bunnies.

I gotta be straight up with ya though folks. Whenever I see somethin' that looks like that photo above, my hands start to sweat, my heart beats a little faster, and my mind goes back to those criminal days of old. It's just like an alcoholic walkin' into a bar. I fall off the wagon. I wanna reach out and grab one of those plastic suckers just 'cause I can, and laugh my ass off all the way down the bunny trail.

Images: Google Images

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Would You Rather?

It's Wacky Wednesday time again folks!!!!! Sure hope you enjoyed Pickleope as my guest blogger the other day. Funny shit lemme tell ya!!!!! I still don't know Pickleope's gender and that is part of the allure, but please pop on over to Pickleope's Blog and check it out for some hilarious, side splitting laughter. 

Today I thought I would engage you in an absolutely absurd  game of Would You Rather? So, put on your thinking caps, get your vomit pails ready just in case, and for God's sake do NOT for one moment think this game is G rated. (That means remove all children under the age of 21 from the room as some material may be sensitive and/or offensive). And heeeeeeeeeeere we go:







1.     Would you rather have sex with a midget or an obese person?

2.     Would you rather poke a flaming stick in your eye or lick a dirty toilet bowl?

3.     Would you rather be sentenced to eternal diarrhea or perpetual vomiting?










4.     Would you rather be stuck on a desert island with a Richard Simmons' Sweatin' to the Oldies DVD or a Barry Manilow CD (assuming you had the capability to watch and/or listen)?   

5.     Would you rather swallow a dozen thumbtacks or cut off your right arm with a rusty saw?

6.     Would you rather find pubic hairs at the bottom of your salad in a restaurant or find live maggots in your Chinese food after you've eaten half of it?

7.      Would you rather have your eyes and ears trade places or have your nose and genitalia trade places?

8.     Would you rather be hung in center square or stoned to death by an angry mob?

9.     Would you rather pop a zit with your mouth or sit on an airplane next to a person with horrendous BO?

And now for the most absurd question of all, which will certainly cause serious nightmares, if not the need for intense therapy:



10.     Would you rather watch porn with your parents or watch porn starring your parents?

Yea, you can thank me for that visual!!!!


Images: Google Images