All up in my gimp grill

All up in my gimp grill

Did you see Oprah today? Did you?
I did. I watched it while talking to my beloved Sissy.
I wanna be Bernadette from Starbucks. Know why?
'cause Bernadette from Starbucks, who has nine kids (3 being her brother's kids, because he is on heroin and dead or something similar) and lives in the shit projects of Chicago, just got her kids a shopping spree of $15 K at Toys R Us. And oh yea, and also, Oprah got her that cute guy who does all of Oprah's redecorating, she got him too. Well, not him, but for him to redo ALL of her shitty half broken furniture. Well, not to REDO it, but to REPLACE IT. And then, Oprah also got her, a NEW HOUSE TO PUT ALL THE NEW STUFF IN.

I told Sissy... I was gonna go and hang up the phone, because I was now going to go gimp myself all up, and then write Oprah a letter, and show her how I gimped myself up real real bad, and how all my kids walk barefoot in the snow to and from school while they get pelted with stones by people and squirrels and how they have pelting wounds from it. Also because we eat food out of donut store dumpsters, because we need to eat. And how we need our very own new house, with new appliances that people didn't donate to me second handedly.

Well, all of that except the last part is false. I don't own a house yet, Oprah, but I would like to. And throw one of them cars you were giving away like fucking CANDY, too. Please Opie? I will suck your left tit. Well, not really, but I will brush it with the back of my hand if you want me to.

Some Things to Do Before the Inaugural:

Some Things to Do Before the Inaugural:

1. Get that abortion you've always wanted.

2. Drink a nice clean glass of water.

3. Cash your social security check.

4. See a doctor of your own choosing.

5. Spend quality time with your draft age child/grandchild.

6. Visit Syria, or any foreign country for that matter.

7. Get that gas mask you've been putting off buying.

8. Hoard gasoline.

10. Borrow books from library before they're banned - Constitutional law books, Catcher in the Rye, Harry Potter, Tropic of Cancer, etc.

11. If you have an idea for an art piece involving a crucifix -- do it now.

12. Come out -- then go back in -- HURRY!

13. Jam in all the Alzheimer's stem cell research you can.

14. Stay out late before the curfews start.

16. Go see Bruce Springsteen before he has his "accident."

17. Go see Mount Rushmore before the Reagan addition.

18. Use the phrase -- "you can't do that -- this is America."

19. If you're white -- marry a black person, if you're black -- marry a white person.

21. Take a walk in Yosemite, without being hit by a snowmobile or a base-jumper.

22. Enroll your kid in an accelerated art or music class.

23. Start your school day without a prayer.

24. Pass on the secrets of evolution to future generations.

26. Learn French.

28. Attend a commitment ceremony with your gay friends.

29. Take a factory tour anywhere in the US.

30. Try to take photographs of animals on the endangered species list.

31. Visit Florida before the polar ice caps melt.

32. Visit Nevada before it becomes radioactive.

33. Visit Alaska before "The Big Spill."

34. Visit Massachusetts while it is still a State


"THEY MISUNDERESTIMATED ME... I KNOW HOW HARD IT IS FOR YOU TO PUT FOOD ON YOUR FAMILY."

posted @ 1:17 P.M.

I am

Here. Thanks for following me! I hope I can transfer all of this without it being a PITA.

The Bee Gees live at WALMART!

The Bee Gees live at WALMART!

I saw a live Bee Gee. And he was at Walmart!

I went with my Sissy as she helped me escape all that is insane and hellacious in my household. She wisked me away for some shoppin' at the Walfart.

We were walking up to the entrance we saw the back of someone's head. In silence, we questioned to ourselves "is that a man? is that a woman? is that a human?" It was all mullet-like, yet very teased and swept around in a forward motion. Very stiff. Very 80's. The mulletness was not so mullet like, though. We could not, for the life of us, put into words what we had before our eyes. I didn't even have to look at Sissy, she said it for the both of us. "Whah-- what the fuck is that?"

I giggled. She turned her head sideways, and we both followed it as it walked into the customer service area while holding a toddler.

I, could not take my eyes off of it, until I found closure. I kept walking, passed the happy cart lady and the people around me, oblivious I was even in the store. I was not going to stop looking. In fact, I could NOT stop looking, it had me in a trance. "Is it man? Is it woman? I am not sure!" I gasped.

Then we saw the side of it's face, and it had facial hair. It was... it was a Bee Gee. We were not aware of this until later on.

We went on our merry little Walmart way. I bought shoes for Miss Attitude aka my six year old's Xmas show. I bought a new bottle for Munson baby, and we stared at things that we thought were only available at malls. We then realized that Walmart was indeed the antichrist of stores.

After she treated me at Starbucks, another soon to be antichrist of things that were once good and wholesome, we were on our way home.

Our bellies full of coffee and marble loaf and seven layered pretty Opera cakes later, we discussed the Hairy Manthing:
"I can't believe we saw that strange hair thing..." I said.
"Yea what the fuck was that!" said Sissy.
"It was like a strange puffed mullet thing..." I said.
"Yea, like a Bee Gee! it was a BeeGullet!" she laughed.

It looked like this:
Bee Gee Mullet BeeGullet

Scary, right?

Not as fucking scary as this, this is his brother... Scary bee gee.

I am now going to go to sleep and have nightmares. Good night.

Oh yea, and I was the one that got the marble loaf. Call me granny why dontcha?

Happy Fucksgiving.

Happy Fucksgiving.
(warning: run on sloppy assed sentencing ahead)

My holiday sucked. I got drunker than shit the night before. But before I got drunker than shit, my mother dropped my WHOLE SPECIAL CASSEROLE on the floor, while trying to put it in the oven for me. She started crying. I started laughing.

But, then when I woke up, the next day, all pissy and moany and dry cotton mouthed and feeling like drunken whore slop, I realized I wanted that special casserole. And I wanted to make another one. But my husband was being a pecker snot about taking me to the store because "THERE WILL BE A MILLION PEOPLEEEEE" he whined. So as he put his clothes on, I shouted "FUCK IT! FUCK THE CASSEROLE!" making my mom feel all weird about the casserole again, and then my husband to stand there dressed for the store and me stomping off crying to the bathroom.

I love being post partum and celebrating holidays. Drinking the night before until you pass out makes it all so much more lovelier.


The name...

I was gonna name the blog the pink taco, and i even worked on a site layout and all... with a pink taco and all. and it was clever and I will show you how it looked: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v309/SahMari/htmlviewblog.jpg

But I changed my mind.

Something about having a blog site named after pink genitalia, doesn't make me think people will want to even read about it. And those that DO want to read about it, will be sittin there with their pecker in their hands, going off to a one man rodeo.

Auntie is that you!?

Auntie is that you!?

I think I got my period. Not the stuff after you have the baby. The period. You know... Good Ol' Aunt Flo?

Dearest Aunt Flo,

Hello. How not nice to see you. You and your horrid little self made it at the six week mark. Always were on time, never late, unless a baby was made.

Seems like you can't wait to spend the rest of my natural, womanly life with me. Now that I am done making babies, that is. You are planning on making my life miserable, aren't you? Yes, I know you are.

It doesn't matter that the doctor tied, fried and layed to the side the good ol' fallopian tubes, you STILL make your way here every goddamn month. You bring along Uncle Cramps, and the Bloat twins. You make me crave bad things that are bad for my skin and my ass. You literally constipate me. You make me insane and lash out at my kids and husband and my cat. You make me double over in pain and overdose on Ibuprofin.

Listen here, Missy, I have been living with you for 20 years. TWENTY FUCKING YEARS. Longer than I have lived with anyone. Cut me some slack, will ya? Don't fuck me over as bad as I have had it. Just because the tubes are tied, don't get all spazzy on me and fuck me over to the point where I am incapacitated in bed all day writhing in cramping pain, while holding a chocolate bar in one hand and a bottle of Motrin in the other. Don't do that to me.

I gave you nice long vacations. Three of them. Each of them lasting nine months. So please, remember that as the holidays approach, ok?

Sincerely,
your niece

Penis O'Reilly

Penis O'Reilly

I read that Bill O'Reilly allegedly said the following to that chick that is claiming he sexually bothered her- That she could "use a vibrator to help ease her stress" and that he "owned a penis shaped vibrator himself..."

Why? Why Bill? Why do you own a vibrator? Let alone a PENIS SHAPED vibrator Do you like anal massage? Are you a strap on kinda guy?

For some reason, this bugs the shit out of me. I guess, because all in all, Bill just looks like a big old penis as it is, so for him to own a vibrating penis bugs me to no end.

Thanks for the visuals Miss Mackris. I am fucking scarred for life.

I be whorish and borish

I be whorish and borish

First off, can I stick my tongue out and say nah nah nah and show off to the fact that I- of all boring ass bloggers that take up space in the internet world- got a note from the Sarcastic Journalist herself? She rocks. (Check her out at SheNuts.Com)
I thank her for reading my lonely little boring assed blog, and for commenting at that! I thank you SJ! I feel humbled and honored, and not so boring anymore!
I am such a needy whore, that I need acceptance from people. Acceptance is like candy to me.

Munson Baby is no longer that sick. Notice I said "that sick", he has a little raspy voice, kinda like he is hoarse, and a tiny small cough. But nothing that bad :::knocks on wood:::.

Can I tell you that my son pee's on me more than any child known to man? Yes, he does. I changed his diaper earlier today, I swear to you he cooed and he smiled as big as the ocean is wide, and he then pissed on me. He does this at least once a day. My older son, never did it like this. He pissed on me like 2 times as an infant.
Ryan will either be into peeing on people, or design fountains for a living. Or just be a really silly person. I swear he thinks it's funny.

And with that... I share with you cute Munson photos....


"Hey baby... lemme give you some Munson lovin'"



how cute is this face?


I think his eyes might be blue, which means for once in my life, my genes let something other than shit brown take over my offspring's eyecolor... keep your fingers crossed they stay this way, it's like a trophy to me that my hispanicness was shoved aside enough to let a gringo take over the eyeball genes.


This face is so elfen I could eat it!


"My mom is irritating me with this camera bullshit."


"Ok mom, that's enough. PLEASE"


Here is me looking all pale and whatnot. My friend Sissy said I looked "exotic" or some horseshit like that... ok, yea, whatever Sissy. Try pale. If you look to the right of me you can see the angel of death in the background! Just kidding. But I guess, for almost dying of blood loss and having pneumonia and whatnot, I don't look so bad. I have "homemade shitty hair kit" cranberry streaks in my hair. Do not adjust your TV sets.
By golly gee, kids, I would say, that I am almost back to my old whorish self! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I give up

I give up.

The baby is now sick.

I had to take him into the pediatrician today. He has a fever, and a cough. The doctor said that since he is eating, and the fever is staying low, that he should be over it in a couple more days. He said to monitor the fever, and to just monitor him.

I give up. I give up on everything. I knew that after having this baby was going to be rough, but I had no idea that it would be like this. I had no idea I would be so sick afterwards, that I would have fucking pneumonia, that everyone in the house would be taking turns being fucking sick, that this poor little newborn would be sick.

I feel like I have not been well in over a month. I am sick of this shit. I am sick of being sick, and dealing with people being sick.
I haven't even had a chance to really enjoy this baby. Or enjoy life after the baby. Or enjoy life. or breathing. Or normalcy. I haven't enjoyed one godamned thing since October 7th. Nothing has been easy enough for me to enjoy since October 7th.
If I die in 10 minutes, it would not surprise me. If a bolt of fucking lightening were to strike me from the skies and hit me as I sit on this chair, I would not be surprised.

I am beginning to feel that old monster creeping up again. I hate everyone. And I don't care.

le boiling le waters

le boiling le waters

I am boiling water. I am so tired. But, I am boiling water. I am making formula, because I was too lazy earlier to make formula. My days are insane. I am still sick, but the rest of the household and life, continues to be insane.

Am I insane?
I think so. I had three kids all before hitting 31. Since I was 23 I have been concieving and spewing children from my loins. Somehow, I thought the idea of tying tubes was such a final act. But the thing is, it is final to keep you from having the insanity you already have in your life. Not to control the insanity in your life. You can not control children. Children are my insanity.

To answer myself above.... YES YOU ARE INSANE, BITCH.

I think the pneumonia is going away. See, I said think... I don't know. I hope, and I think, but have no idea if it is indeedy going on it's ugly fucking way. I still hack. I still feel shitty. But not all at once. And I don't feel the need to be contained in a deathbed and stare at the wall all day long. I actually sat on the couch and watched Judge Joe Brown and his other fellow Judges, and some Maury "I need ratings like a mofo" Povich. My three year old actually gave me a break today and played by himself. He was out of my buttcheeks and gave me a much deserved break. He was good today. Ohhh... today. But tomorrow, see, tomorrow, shall be interesting. He will be devil child tomorrow. I can just feel it in my sickly bones.

The baby is sleeping better. Either that or I am insane. Or I am just used to being sleep deprived. I dunno which.

Ok... um, I am tired. So, yea, goodnight.

jumbalyah mumble-ayah.

I am still sick. I am still a bit grumpy. And I am still wondering A. If I should be greatful someone in heaven is looking out for me, or B. What evil is out to get me.


I lost my voice yesterday. Oh joy of joys. So when people call for me, it really does sound as if I am on my deathbed. I hear : "Oh my God. You sound awful!" or I hear: "Oh man, you really sound like complete shit!". You get the picture. And I try to pronounce words as clearly as I can and sound like an idiot.

Everything tastes shitty. I either cook it with too much salt because I can't tell the difference, or I make it blander than shit. My tongue is like "I CANT TASTE! I AM DEAD! I AM PARALYZED!"

So, yea. I am ya know, just sick. And sick of being sick, and tired of being sick, and tired from being sick. Yea.

The Burning Bed is on T.V. right now. I am snickering at it. Not snickering at the fact that a woman gets beaten by her husband, because nothing about that is cool. But, snickering because Farrah Faucett is being beaten on T.V. .... and that is cool.


I find this man disturbingly sexy.

More whining

More whining

Hey all.

Yes, it is I, the sickly bitch, back again.

I went to the doc on Tuesday after voting. I was that dedicated to getting the pubic Bush hair out of office, so me and K went and then he took me to the ER.

They did Xrays and realized I had pneumonia. They wanted to keep me and I said Hell No. So they made me stay there until my breathing improved. They gave me some breathing treatments from some big hairy guy who smelled like cigar smoke. How ironic is that?

Anyway, he gave me some breathing treatments and once my airways cleared up, I was on my way home with a fever, prescriptions for an inhaler and two different meds, one being Zithromax.

I got home, took them and went into some sort of pneumonic shock, I was all cold and had chicken skin, then I would get hot, then I would get cold and so on. I would get lightheaded and wheeze and have lung spasms. Good times.

After the meds kicked in, I sat up with the baby for a little while, I feel bad, cause I haven't really spent real time with him. Being sick I have kinda been staying away from him. I watched the Election until about 1 a.m. and then passed out.

K's mom is taking Mya to school for me. Besides that, I am pretty much on my own with the boys. It sucks because if Keifer doesn't nap, I can't. Ryan naps all day, so it's nothing to take care of him. Keifer is the real trouble. He doesn't understand how sick I am, and can be a bit demanding.

I pretty much spend my nights hacking up the fluid that is in my lungs, and crying, because I am fucking sick of being sick. Once in a while it will subside and I can get a bit of sleep, but besides that, my back and chest hurt from coughing so much. I mean, they really hurt. And my incision is real sore, from my hacking up so much it tugs at my Csection area.

Today I freaked myself out. I was reading about how blood clots can be mistaken for pneumonia and how they can kill you if lodged deep enough in your lungs. A million things ran through my mind and I stared and Keifer and Ryan and a picture of Mya and began sobbing. I was crying, because I just knew I was going to die and was going to leave them motherless.
A million thanks to WebMD and the other fucking google sites that came up with scary assed reasons as to why I should be on my deathbed.

I know it sounds silly, but being through the shit that i have been through this passed month, dying is not something that seems so far fetched. And being in the state I am in right now, I am easy game for wild and crazy thoughts.

I just want to be me again. I thought I would be me by now, and being so sick and knocked so hard on my ass, it makes me wonder what the fuck I did to deserve such shitty assed luck.

bluaaaarguruck!

bluaaaarguruck!


That's what it sounds like all night as I hack chunks.

Lovely, isn't it?

Lovely how my fucking body has turned against me. I give birth to Ryan, and it turns against me like some freak. As if to say "you took all that is good and holy in this body, give that baby back, and the baby making tubes that came before it!" And then it reaked havic. It made my body try to croak. It made my body bleed endlessly, and when blood came to it, it sought other ways to fuck me up.

Poof, pnuemonia.

Thanks freakish fucking body. You can't let me just relax and heal from this Csection, you have to make me sicker than fuck, and have to deal with a newborn and a three year old and a whiney assed six year old who thinks her mother is on her death bed.

If I don't develope post partum depression after this, it will be a miracle.

not happy

not happy.


I am not happy.

Here is why:

I have pnuemonia.

And Bush the Pubic hair of the free world, will preside as president for another four years