Why Do I Drink?

To get drunk, of course.



If you need me I'll be in the bar.

S'okay? S'alright!

I've been thinking about my career options lately. They aren't so great.

Sure I can make scads of money right now just by shaking my naked ass and twirling around on a pole, but that won't last forever. In these uncertain economic times, a person needs job security. That's why I've decided it would be a good idea to branch out a bit a bit and learn a skill that will always be in demand.

I've decided to become a ventriloquist.

Now, I know it won't be easy and will require lots of time and effort but I think I can do this. My mom found an old book of ventriloquist tips for me at the thrift store, and I've been practicing throwing my voice for the past few weeks. It's not really all that hard, actually. The hardest part was finding an affordable dummy. They can be quite expensive, but luckily I came across a whole boxful of puppet parts at a garage sale and was able to cobble a few together and so far so good. I think I'm a natural.

Here, let me show you a bit of my act and you guys tell me what you think, okay?







PRU: Hi everyone, I'm The Amazing Prunella and this is my friend Mrs. Danvers. Say hello to the folks, Mrs. Danvers.

MRS. D: Sinners! The day of judgment is at hand. Ye shall be judged, oh yes! Hahahahaha!

PRU: Now, now Mrs. D, what makes you say that?


MRS. D: It was written...America shall become desolate; for she hath rebelled against her God. And they shall fall by the sword, the filthy heathens, one by one: their infants shall be dashed into pieces, their women stoned with bricks, their men castrated, their tongues ripped out, and their eyeballs gouged squishily. And no one whose testicles are crushed or whose male organ is cut shall enter the assembly of the Lord. For my god is a jealous god and those that curse his name shall have their heads chopped off and thrown into the river of blood and heads. BLOOD AND HEADS!


PRU: Whoa. That's a little bit...well, nevermind. Wanna hear a joke? Knock knock -

MRS. D: It is you who are the joke, young Jezebel! The BIBLE has much to say of you and your carnal sisters. I quote:

"Yet she increased her prostitution, remembering the days of her youth when she engaged in prostitution in the land of Egypt. She lusted after their genitals as large as those of donkeys, and their seminal emission was as strong as that of stallions."

PRU: Wait....stallions?

MRS. D: Lo, shall he punish the WHORES, sending an angel with a mighty sword. And he shall stabith thee in thy guts, and ripith out thy still beating whore heart, which shall be fed to demons and lizards. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.

PRU: Um....

MRS. D: Blood must be spilled! Yes, BLOOD - thick enough to swim in - for only then shall the TRUE believers be lifted from the kingdom of dragons --

PRU: OKAY! Thanks Mrs. Danvers, but now let's hear from some other friends, shall we? Everyone, I'd like you to meet my pal, Pete in the Box. How's it going, Pete?







PETE: Are you alone?

PRU: Yes, well I mean, it's just me and a few people from the internet.

PETE: The internet? Are you crazy? Don't even go there, I'm warning you. I wrote a letter to President Bush and told him about the super computer being built in Belgium in order to warn him, but instead he took that knowledge and used it to build a giant hurricane machine. You don't really believe Hurricane Katrina was a natural disaster, do you? Cause I can assure you, it wasn't.

PRU: Whatever, okay Pete. Why don't you sing a song while I drink this glass of water?

PETE: Take a Vitamin C while you're at it and wash your hands. The government is getting ready to release the really deadly Swine flu virus this month. That stuff in the Spring was just a test. They are already building FEMA camps to lock up all the people who refuse to get vaccinated. Don't take the shot, though! It's contaminated with AIDS. And leprosy. This is all part of Obama's plan to get everyone sickly enough so he can implement his death panel of doom.

PRU: Sigh.

Okay then, moving on. Let's talk to Johnny! Hi Johnny.




JOHNNY: Hel-lo.

PRU: How are you feeling today, Johnny?

JOHNNY: Vedy good. S'okay.

PRU: S'okay?

JOHNNY: S'okay. S'alright.

MRS. DANVERS: (interrupting) FOOLS! Behold, I will corrupt your seed, and spread dung upon your faces, even the dung of your solemn feasts; and one shall take you away with it...Malachi 2:3.


JOHNNY: Oh, oh! S'notokay! S'notalright!

PRU: Please Mrs. Danver --

MRS. DANVERS: Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, wig for a WIG!




JOHNNY: AHHHHHHH!! NOOOOOOOO!


Ba-dah-dah! The End.



Well, that's it so far. Do you love it?

These dummies are a trip. It's almost like they have a mind of their own, or something. But I think with a few tweaks, we'll be ready to debut the act at my nephew's fourth birthday party this weekend. Kids love talking puppets so I'm sure we'll be a big hit.

OMG!

OMG!

I may have just accidentally swallowed a bug that landed in my tea.

I think it was just a gnat, but what if it wasn't?

What if it was something far worse?

What if it was some kind of flying, parasitic, mosquito-like thingee?

What if its laying it's filthy, squirming eggs in my esophagus right now?!

It probably is!

Parasitic, flying mosquito worm eggs that will hatch within days and make their way up my throat, and through my nasal passages into my cerebellum and burrow deep into my frontal brainial cavity!

And then the worms will settle in, feasting on what few smarticles I have left, growing fatter and fatter on my diminishing thoughts, until they are poking out of my ears like linguine and I am left a drooling idiot.

Then I'll spend my days twiddling my thumbs and nodding my head along to Jonas Brothers songs until I am hauled before Obama's newly reformed government health care's dreaded "Death Panel."

Fox News said that the Death Panel will be staffed by Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Dr. Kevorlian, and Dick Cheney. What if that's true?

They'll kill me for sure!

After harvesting my salvageable organs, of course, to sell to the highest bidder.

And then they'll grind up whatever is left of me and add it to cow feed for the extra protein.

And then...OMG!

When the cows are slaughtered and ground into meat patties and sold to grocery stores around the country, some of you will eat them.

Hamburgers containing me and my brainial cavity worm eggs.

Which will hatch in your intestines and start to multiply...

Even if you are a vegetarian you'll still get them because the wormy cow shit will be used as fertilizer to grow your soybeans and veggies, and also seep into the ground water.

OMG, I've just killed us all!!! Humanity is doomed! DOOMED! We will all be dead by 2012 because of me!

I'm so sorry.


Does anyone have a Valium? I need to go lie down for a while.

Snaps

Sweet Zombie Jeebus but my mom is driving me crazy today! She's tearing up the house in a cleaning and organizing frenzy and it's really harshing my mellow. So in order to get her to shut her yap and leave me in peace, I agreed to go through a few boxes of stuff in the closet. It was mostly junk but I did find a few pictures to share with you guys.





Here's one of me as a precious newborn with Grandpa. My mom said I cried constantly throughout the first few months of my life, and looking at this picture I can see why. I didn't want HUGS! Geez.










Hard as it may be to believe, I wasn't always supermodel gorgeous. Like many kids, I definitely went through an awkward stage. Oh well, at least my jazz hands were always fierce!








Ah memories. This one's from high school when I won the Miss Inland Empire Poultry Princess pageant. Check out the bitch in pink, you can tell she's choking with jealousy over losing to me. The very next day she tried to steal my boyfriend, but I fixed her good. I started a rumor that she was born with balls and a teeny peen and soon everyone was calling her Tammy the Tranny. Ha ha ha! After that, she got knocked up by this crazy homeless vet named Gimpy who lived behind the roller rink, and then she dropped out of school. I wonder what she's up to now?






That's Grandmaw Jones at Christmas. She's so easy to buy presents for.








Here I am as a rebellious young teen hanging out with my Uncle Frank at his trailer in Hemet. God, just look at that picture! It's so crazy! I mean, can you believe I actually used to drink Bud Light? Eww!







Oh yeah, this one's from my wedding. Did I tell you I got married once? Probably not, it's a really sad story. You see, immediately after we exchanged vows, my new husband was abducted by a UFO. It was incredibly traumatic, as the aliens beamed up all the champagne along with him. And it was the spendy stuff too, not cheap swill! We got a discount because his cousin owned a liquor store. I was utterly heartbroken and still am.

Damn you, aliens, for taking away the only man I'll ever love!!! Oh Sam, I'll never forget you,... ur...shit, I mean Stan. That's right, Stan. The best 45 minutes of my life was the time I spent as Mrs. Stan....um...I think it started with a B. I'll ask my mom, she'll know.










Hmmmm, I think this pic is from the 2008 Gathering of the Juggalos festival. Or maybe 2007...anyway, good times. Woo woo, Riverside 'Lo's representin', y'all!








Hey, this one is pretty recent too. LOL, I don't even know who these people are. I was just shopping for rugs one day after visiting the wig store, and noticed this group of hipsters getting photographed, so of course I jumped in.










My shades are definitely the hawtest, don't you agree?

There Can Be Only One!

Let's get one thing straight. I, Prunella Jones, AM the star dancer and main attraction at Classy Earl's House of Class and Tits. Everybody knows this.

It took me the last few months to claw my way back to primo headlining status after being forced to leave The Boobie Barn (in order to avoid getting my ass kicked), and I don't take kindly to impudent little jailbait upstarts trying to knock me off my pole. I am not going anywhere!

Right now I am making top bank with my Sarah Palin impersonation. Have I told you guys about it? It's really sweet and so totally easy. All I have to do is pile my hair into a big bun (with a little help from Bump-It hair volumnizer, I just know she uses this product), slip into a slutty stewardess looking suit with some thigh-high stockings, and plop my purple schoolmarm glasses - seen in the pic below - on to my nose.



The better to see you naughty little mavericks with, oh yes!


Then when the DJ says, "Everybody make some noise for the sexy Saraaaaah!" I come out, winking and mugging, and slowly peal my clothes off to the song "Barracuda" by Heart while everyone goes wild.

After I get naked, I just have to toss out a few, "you betchas" and "doncha knows" and "quit staring at my Trig-feeders, you dirty libs!" and the cash money flies towards me. I can't keep up with all the lap dance requests. Even the die-hard Republican's love it.

This is as it should be, of course. I was put on this earth to be a superstar.

That's why the new dancer at work better watch herself.



Puh-leaze. Who wants to see her shake it? Besides Pedo-Bear I mean.




Just look at this boring little hillbilly. Who is she trying to kid? Get this, she calls herself, "MileyCyrus" - what kind of stripper name is that I ask you? And honey, the skanky, Lindsay Lohanesque, kinderwhore shorts wearing, grinding-on-an-ice cream-cart while lipsincing to "Sugarwalls" has been done to death. It's so 2002.

Besides, it attracts all the pedophiles and everyone knows they are terrible tippers. Not to mention being really, really creepy.

As opposed to the run-of-the-mill, only slightly creepy horndogs we usually attract, I mean.

Look little girl, I'm thinking it's about time for you to pack up your zit cream and leave the ass shaking to the pros, mmkay. Classy Earl's may be a big place but I'm afraid it's not big enough for the both of us. Remember what happened to Britney Sue Spears when she tried to horn in on my popularity?

Oh, that's right. You were probably still in diapers then.

Well, let me let you in on a little secret, sweet 'ems. You know that douchenozzle she married and reproduced with, KFed? Who do you think introduced her to him? Hmmmm?

That's right, it was me. I'm ruthless, honey. I'll do anything it takes to stay at the top of this business. If you continue trying to (finger quotes) "out-sexy" me on the stripper pole, then you may as well consider yourself served.

It will be so on!

Morons for Moronica! Hoo-ray!

My fellow Americans, I have a dream.

Yes I do, shall I tell you about it? It's for all those non-moneyed, conservative Americans out there too stupid to vote for their own interests.

Not sure who I'm talking about? Let me clarify.

I am talking about the teabaggers, the birthers, the Rush Limbaugh worshipers, the gun-loving, mouth-breathing, cousin-fucking, "Real Americans" who are storming Town Hall meetings across the land, threatening violence so that they can be allowed to have their healthcare rationed and denied by the CEOs of insurance companies, rather than have any sort of option from the horribly incompetent and evil gub'mint. 'Cos that's dirty, dirty socialism, doncha know?

The people who say "OMG they're going to make the insurance companies actually compete with a low cost alternative partially paid for by people with too much money. ZOMG HITLER!!! Where's my gun, Cletus?!!

The hearty, true patriot, Joe Sixpack/Fake Plumbers of the land, I have a dream for you.

I have a dream for all of those who love unregulated markets, Glen Beck, and Jeebus. For those with IQs slightly lower than Sarah Palin but just above dishwater. For those who worry that their children will turn to witchcraft because they read a Harry Potter book.

I have a dream, all right.

My dream is that the people I've described will rise up and form their very own country. Possibly in Texas.

Now Friends, if this describes you, I implore you to seriously consider this idea.

Think about it. Why would you want to stay here with the rest of us secular humanists types and fancy mustard lovin' libs, paying taxes to a President (who wasn't even born here!) who wants to kill old people and steal your money so he can abort retarded babies and harvest their stem cells for a bunch of damn elitist scientists? I've also heard that he plans to make sex changes mandatory for all those who refuse to be vaccinated with the ghey. Bill O'Reilly told me so, so you know it's true.

Secede, my friends! Secede and make your own country. This is the only way!

Secede and do it now, before that Kenyan takes your guns away! You know he wants to. Hurry up, secede! Take Texas! Turn it into a country just for you and those who think like you do. A country that you can be proud of. It could be called "Moronica" or "Real 'Merica" and Sarah Palin can be your queen.

Wouldn't she be a lovely queen? All the pansy libs would die from jealousy over her beauty and smartness. And anyone who made fun of her or questioned the things she said could be shot immediately.

Just think of it. Close your eyes and imagine. Dream. Can't you see it? A place of your very own where no one has to pay taxes ever! A place completely independent! A place with good Christian family values.

A place with no polysyllabic words.

In short, I'm talking about a Republican utopia.

In Moronica there will be no abortion EVER. Nope, not even if your wife is dying or your 12-year-old daughter gets raped. God has sayeth unto Fox News that a fetus is way more important then the uterus what holds it, therefore it must be so. You won't have to worry about that anyway 'cause these things won't happen as long as them womens keep their slut legs together anyhow.

No homo-fairy-fag gheys allowed in your country. (Men with a wide stance are okay, though 'cause that's not ghey.) Ditto for them welfare-lovin' dark people and funny talkin' furiners. Everyone in Real 'Merica will be good ol' bootstrappin' rugged individualists and mavericks what speak English just like Jesus.

Nobody, but nobody will get a free ride in your republican paradise, this I'll personally guarantee. Because there won't be any of that nightmarish Social Security crap for you. No, old people, the retarded, and disabled will strap on their boots and get to work everyday if they want to eat just the way the good lord intended, dadgubit.

Luckily health care won't be a problem because everyone knows that prayer cures cancer and abstinence cures everything else.

In Real 'Merica there will be a church on every corner and no schools to infect your children with librul ideas like evolution and putting g's on the end of words. No libraries neither. That's socialist. Anyway, readin's a waste of time and not very bootstrappy.

And think how handy it will be when The Rapture begins. All of you good Christians will be right there in one place, making it that much easier for the angels to lift you up to Heaven.

Nope, nothing in Real "Merica (or Moronica) except good ol' bootstrappin' rugged individualists and mavericks. Yep, yep. How wonderful it would be! What a dream!

Except....hold on. I just realized something.

Now that I think about it, Real 'Merica already exists as a nation. Duh! How have we not noticed this before? It's called Somalia.

No need to form a whole new country when that one meets all your requirements.

Check it out. Somalia is a teabagger's paradise. There is no police, no government officials meddling in business. No regulation of anything. No TAXES! No LAWS! No public health system. Nothing but pure boot-strappiness! HEE HAW!

Of course, there are quite a few darkies, but hey you guys got plenty of guns. Run 'em off, send 'em to Kenya and the country is yours. Obama will be happy to give them Somalians some sort of handout once they get up there to his homeland.

Just think of it! Real 'Merica right there in Africa.

Once the rest of the continent gets a load of your fine democracy you know they'll be wantin' it for themselves for sure, and soon enough the land will be covered in WalMarts and McDonalds. Can't you see it? Brings a tear to the eye, doesn't it? John Wayne and Ronald Reagan would be so damn proud.

So what are you guys waiting for? Get to it! Off with you all of you to Somalia quickly! Have a good trip and don't forget to write. Oops! I forgot, there is no post office there either.

Oh well, no loss. I certainly won't miss you at all, that's for sure. Buh-bye!

Curses! I Was Trying To Keep This A Secret!

Damn you Birthers, and your relentless digging for the truth! Happy now? You'll pay for this, oh yes, when I call upon my father to bring up the zombie army and have them feast upon your brilliant brains! Ha ha ha!

does whatever a spider can

Last night I went to call my dog in and almost walked into a giant spiderweb right outside the door. An enormous spider sat smack in the middle of it sucking the juices out of some hapless bug.










None of these pics turned out very good. The spider just shows up as a flash. I assume this is because he's radioactive.







giant spider sits
waiting to jump on my face
suck the eyeballs out

Help!!

He Who Breaks The Law Goes Back To The House Of Pain

Okay, just so you know, I'm not much of an entertainer. I'd usually rather go out (that way I don't have to clean up my house!) but since Mr. Condescending tagged me with this post I guess I can shovel a clear path through the house so everyone can squeeze in. C'mon in!

I was just teasing about the house of pain thing. It is not in effect at this time.
Although, please don't open any closet doors, okay? You may get hurt in the resulting avalanche.






Say hi to my dog Shirley. She's a dopey beagle with skin problems and very bad breath but she loves people. If you pet her head she will happily jump in your lap and stare at you with big goony lovesick eyes all night.



I'm afraid my bookshelves aren't terribly impressive, even though I do have tons of books. It's just that most of them are scattered around the house or shoved under the bed. I'm not very organized and my shelves end up crowded with the weird stuff that I collect, like hands and pictures of KISS. Oh, and dust. Lots of dust. Hope you're not allergic. I'd rather not collect that, but you know...life is too short to worry about a little dust. We only have till December 23, 2012 after all. That's what it said on the History Channel anyway. Let's live, baby!

If you need a Kleenex they're on the counter top. Aaaa chooo!











When it comes to books, I definitely prefer non-fiction, especially trivia and history and biographies about weird people. If you like them, I've got a big stack of those Uncle John's Bathroom Readers you can browse through. They're on top of the toilet tank in that little bathroom to your left. Yeah, I keep meaning to get shelves in there.

As long as your in the bathroom you should check out the window ledge. See what's on it? Can you guess what that is?



That's right, it's a lady bug graveyard. Good guess!

I know it's weird (and a little morbid) that there are dead ladybugs in the window but let me explain. You see, for some reason ladybugs love that bathroom. They flock to it in swarms, especially in the colder months and then they die. Seriously, I'm forever sweeping up their tiny corpses. It puzzled me until I realized that my bathroom must be their version of Heaven or Nirvana or whatnot. Maybe they send their old and decrepit over here to die, sort of like when elderly Eskimos used to head out to the ice to kick the bucket. So that's why the graveyard stays. Who am I to mess with their great and ancient wisdom? Plus, cleaning is a bore.


Now, what's next? Oh yes, DVDs. I actually don't own a whole lot of DVDs. Usually I just rent them. Oh wait, I do own Season 1 of Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman. We can watch that if you'd like. Have you ever seen it? It's completely insane and therefore highly recommended.


Wanna do some crafts while we watch? Grab the hot glue gun and that bowl of fake eyes, I'll get the old magazines, collage scissors and barbie doll legs, and let's see what we come up with. Or if you'd rather paint, you can finish up this angel plaque.




I think some blood drops around the green one's mouth would look good. Also some evil eyebrows, but paint it however you want. Surprise me.

Are you getting hungry? Yeah, me too. I'm not much of a cook though. I only have two cookbooks. These two.




We could try that recipe for Cooter Stew I suppose. Maybe the Lima Bean Casserole? No? I know, how about an Elvis Sandwich? Had one before? They're great and really easy. Just slather peanut butter, bacon, and bananas between two pieces of bread and fry the whole thing in butter. Fabulous!

Or we could just order a pizza. Whatevs.

Sorry there's no alcohol in the house. Well, there might be a bottle of Grinder's Switch Sweet Table Wine that my mom brought back from Minnie Pearl's house, but believe me you won't like it. It tastes like warm Hawaiian Punch sweetened with an additional 50 cups of sugar. Ugh.

I don't usually keep alcohol around because I tend to guzzle it down immediately after purchase. Don't worry though, I just called my best friend Paula Abdul and she said she'll run by the wine store on her way over. Knowing Paula, she'll be bringing some Vicodin along too. If she does I'll make us up a little drink I like to call The Dr. House Cocktail. Here is the recipe:

First, chop up a Vicodin or 10 into very fine powder. Combine with diet Coke or juice or whatever. Stir. Add a cherry. Guzzle.

Cheers! Paula loves this one. I'm pretty fond of it too, altho I don't usually bother with the diet coke part.

Say, did I ever email you that article about Nutmeg? You know, the one that said eating Nutmeg can get you hella stoned? Click here if you want to read it.

I've actually made the recipe for "Space Paste" a couple of times now and you'll be pleased to know it actually works pretty good. Here have a bite. Tasty, huh? A couple of tablespoons is all you need to get nice and spacey. Careful not to eat too much. The first time I tried this I ate A LOT and got so stoned I could barely move for hours. It was fun though. Here's the recipe.

Space Paste

4 part*s nutmeg (ground from whole nutmeg)
4 parts almonds (soak overnight and rinse)
4 parts raw pistachios
2 parts cinnamon
1 part cumin
1 part tarragon
1 part oregano
1 part basil
1 part turmeric
1/2 part cayenne pepper
1/2 part black pepper
maple syrup (to taste)

*One "part" equals a tablespoon.

See, nothing illegal in there. But like I said, be careful with it. This stuff is powerful! Last time Paula and I got pasted, I woke up naked in the bathtub covered in gold glitter.

I'm not sure what happened exactly. It's not unusual for me to get naked and I seem to recall us placing a prank call to Simon Cowell, but that's about it. Where the glitter came into things I couldn't tell you. Most of the pictures I took from that night turned out blurry except for this one.




I dedicate this picture to Dr. Zibbs. Kiss, kiss.


You guys don't have to go already, do you? The night is young. I thought maybe we could watch some Cartoon Network, or have a yodeling contest. Or hey, how about let's get out the Ouija board and contact the dead?





Come on, don't be scared. It's not dangerous. I haven't been possessed in ages. Captain Howdy swears he won't do that again. Anyway, there's holy water in the cabinet if he does. Now put your fingers on the planchette so we can ask a question.

Ready? Okay, let me think....um...here's one. Oh Great and Mighty Spirits, will my internet friends ever want to come visit me again?

Sweet, it's moving....H...E...L...Wha?...L....N.............O.


D'oh!

Oh well, can't say I blame you. Next time we'll go out.

Bad Girls Go To Hell

Part 1

Sorry to have disappeared on you guys. Believe me, it wasn't intentional. It's just that I met this very mysterious millionaire who whisked me away to his private island last week, so I was busy basking in the sun, sipping fruity drinks, and having lots and lots of sex.

I meant to do a post about my whereabouts (and describe the hawt sex in detail) but right around then I found out that the millionaire had this weird, creepy hobby of hunting humans for sport right there on his island. Things got kinda awkward after that and I had a bit of a hard time leaving. He didn't want to let me go so I was eventually forced to escape with the help of a mutant flying squirrel woman and her sidekick, a gossipy Komoda dragon named Jimmy. It wasn't easy at all, but I won't bore you with the details. Suffice to say that I was very happy to get home!

Of course, no sooner did I get home then my mom started bugging me to get ready for the family reunion in Atlanta, Georgia. Ugh. Apparently I had agreed to accompany her there. She must have asked me when I was high, otherwise there's no way I would've said yes. Not that I don't love her family and all, it's just that they are a very conservative bunch of Fox News-watching Republican churchies with that smarmy holier-than-thou attitude, and spending time with them makes me want to gouge holes in my skull with an icepick.

See, this is why I prefer hanging out with my dad's family. Since most of them are alcoholics and mental patients, they are usually too busy throwing up in the sink and constructing tin foil hats to judge me. Plus, they often have good drugs and don't mind sharing - or at least don't notice when I filch them out of their bathroom cabinets.

Anyway, I knew this was going to suck, but a promise is a promise so I packed up my least slutty dress and went.


Part II


You know, I consider myself kind of a skeptical person. I don't believe in prophesy or astrology or any of that crap but I do enjoy reading books about it and love getting my palm read. Go figure.

Like I said, I don't really buy into this stuff but something happened the other day that gave me pause. I was leafing through a book of Nostradomus predictions when one of the quatrains caught my eye.

The year 2009, seventh month
a great guilting from she who bore you
summoned thusly to the foul city
to suffer there greatly of tedium and vexation.


Wow, talk about things that make you go hmmmm! These lines seemed meant just for me. Reading on, I found more quatrains that related to the family reunion. This one described the hotel we stayed at perfectly.


The place of slumber is a lie
one bed alone, stoney and unwielding
three pillows with all the cushion of a brick
the fourth, squishy as a deflated beach ball.


so true! Me and Mom had to share one crappy bed at The La Quinta Inn. But it was this one that really made the hairs on the back of my neck rise up.


The elders gather round
exchanging tales of an evil Kenyan
their fearful cries echo the chambers
"Oh my God, there's a darkie in the White House!"



Whoa, it's like Nostradomus was in the room with us or something.



Part III


"Please go easy on the drinking tonight, honey," my mom squawked at me as we pulled up to her sister's house. "In fact, why don't you stick to iced tea while we're there?"

"Let me get this straight," I snapped. "After making me drive four hours through fucking Georgia (I hate the state of Georgia) listening to your hideous Trisha Yearwood CDs, and finding out that our hotel sucks and I will have to sleep on a bed that feels like a slab of marble, you won't let me have a glass or two of champagne?"

She sighed. "One glass would be fine, I suppose, but no more. You know how you get when you drink."

"How?"

"Embarrassing! And loud. And you do those cartwheels." She threw me a nervous look. "Please, please don't embarrass me at this party. Just one drink, okay?"

I was insulted of course, but grudgingly agreed. "Fine, but you owe me a Valium when this is over."

I'm wildly jealous of my mom's Valium scrip. She's tight with them too, and keeps them all for herself.

"Deal," she said. "And, you are wearing panties, right?"

"Duh!" I said.

If you'll note, that was my clever way of not answering the question.



PART IV


"Can you believe the horrible things the media says about poor Sarah Palin?"

An old lady named Marjorie is talking to me as we sip our bubbly. The party tonight is for my aunt and uncle's 50th wedding anniversary so tons of their friends are there - average age 116. None of my fun cousins are attending, just the dull ones. I'm bored.

"I couldn't believe that David Letterman saying she dresses like a slutty stewardess. She always looks marvelous and so classy. Now that one - the Kenyan's wife, she wears clothes that look straight from a rummage sale. Even to meet with world leaders! She wore this one dress with dreadful stripes that blah, blah, blah...."

Listening to Marjorie is making me feel crazy. We've been here for two hours and I've already downed four glasses of champagne. I can't help it. Fake smiling can only be sustained for so long without constant reinforcement from alcoholic beverages. I try to ditch ol' Marge by walking over to bar, but she sticks to me like glue, still blathering on about the sufferings of Sarah Palin.

As you may know, I cannot stand Sarah Palin. Listening to someone sing her praises is sort of like taunting a dog by waving a piece of bacon in it's face. It's like inviting a demon to take over your body.

At that moment Satan enters my body and takes over.

"Well, you know that darned liberal media and their gotcha journalism!" I say. "Sarah Palin is the one true hope this country has. I can only pray that she runs in 2012."

"Isn't that the truth1" she nods, smiling. A couple of others drift over and chime in agreement.

"If only Sarah had run for the top spot instead of McCain, she would have won for sure and we wouldn't be stuck with that socialist Kenyan!"

My audience nods vigorously and someone starts to add something about Obama's refusal to show his birth certificate but I have warmed up to my subject now and will be pretty much unstoppable.

"What was America thinking?" I crow. "I mean, Sarah was certified witchcraft-free! I really admire her rejection of fancy book learnin' and such. The only book anyone needs is the bible, after all. It should be obvious that God doesn't want us knowing stuff. Just look at the way He kicks Adam and Eve out of the garden for eating from the tree of knowledge. Let me tell you, Sarah would never have been that stupid. She'd have shot that snake between his beady little eyes and skinned it and made it into a fashionable pair of four inch heels."

"I have a confession," I say. "It's my dream to run in 2012 with Sarah as her vice-presidential candidate. Oh, I know there are many others more qualified then me, but hey, Obama didn't have any experience and he got elected...and besides, wouldn't Sarah and I be hawt together? Having two sexy ladies like us in charge of things would surely convert the gays back to God fearing, vagina-lovers in no time."

Now, I know I'm not a pit bull in lipstick or anything. Don't I wish! Actually, I'm more like the female version of Bugs Bunny when he puts on the wig and tight sweater, but I'd be a great vice president. I can wink like a champ! And also have experience at quitting many jobs. Many, many jobs. And I have read the bible several times and often have conversations with Jesus in my head."

By now I have gotten kinda loud I guess. Everyone is staring at me. Including my mom. Taken with my own brilliance, I rush on knowing she will make me shut up in a minute.

"Jesus actually gave me some good ideas for slogans for our White House run." I say. Tell me, how do these sound?

Palin/Jones 2012: Because W. Was Not Ignorant Enough!

Palin/Jones 2012: Drill Us Baby Drill Us!

Palin/Jones 2012: We Know We're Going To Heaven. Can The Libs Say That?"


After that my mom makes me go sit in the TV room with the kids and watch Twilight.


The End

Question: What The Hell Is This?

Answer: Why it's a great big bowl of grease, of course! Yummy, delicious, room temperature grease. My mom's been pouring her bacon and ground beef drippings into this bowl for at least a year.

If you guessed correctly, then today is your lucky day because it's all yours! Yup, the whole thing including spoon.

Come pick up your prize soon, okay? As I just spilled some on my toe and it's making me want to hurl.

My Pussy Is So Hawt

It's hard to believe that it's been one whole year since I adopted my sweet little gingerbread man, Jackie Waffles. Look how he's grown.


July 2008

Hiya guys, I'm new!



July2009

Bring me Solo and the Wookiee. They will all suffer for this outrage. Hoo, hoo.


Jackie has gotten a bit large, hmmm? He now weighs 17 pounds. Of course, it's not fat he's just big-boned.....well, okay he is fat. I don't mind though, there's just more of him to love. That's why his nickname is Big Fun.

Jackie's hobbies include:


Loafing,





Snoozing,




Tolerating Land Gator attacks,




Napping,




Flying through the air,

(BTW, don't those clouds look like asses? How cool is that?)





and chilling with the ladies while working his bling-bling.









I really like this cat. He's got personality.