Sunday, December 30, 2007

From Fabulous to Fucked Up in Two Days

My parents left on Friday morning. By noon on Sunday, my life has been spun around. It's nothing serious, but it IS irritating that you can write someone out of your life completely and then turn around and have them pop up, out of the blue, and throw a bagful of wrenches at you.

My Incubator (AKA the hyena who gave birth to me) sent a message to me through one of my sisters. God this is such a convoluted mess, but please bear with me.

1. Incubator and my dad marry and have two children: ADW and Tree
2. Incubator pulls a preying mantis and they split up.
3. Incubator gets custody (AKA child support) of ADW and Tree.
4. Incubator remarries
5. Incubator and StepTard have three children: Jay, L and III

I also have two sisters from my dad and mom, but that is another story.

The only sibling that I speak with from step 5 is my sister L. We are fairly close and I usually see her 3 or 4 times a year.

L called me up today with a fantastic tale, but to understand the new saga, you have to get a little backstory. About 6 months ago, Tree and I went to visit L. Apparently the incubator had approached L with some paperwork that she wanted us all to sign off on. This paperwork was for a deed to some property that was placed in our names.... sort of a place where you have memberships and the elected of the owners govern the rest of the owners kind of thing. How my name, as a minor, ever got placed on that piece of paper is beyond me. I suspect that there was some kind of tax break or clause (Incubator is crazy, but wicked smart and a huge schemer) and that is why all five of us were placed on the paper as property owners. Anyway, The Bator asked L to please have Tree and I sign off on the deed so that she could then sign it over to Jay and her new husband.

Answer? Anybody? Bueller?

Yeah. Fuck off cuntface. Tree and I both laughed. Poor L was stuck in the middle, since these are the only parents that she has and she still tries to maintain a relationship with them even though they are complete cockwads to her.

So the signing off on the deed was a no go.

Fast forward to today.

L calls me with yet another request for Tree and I to sign off on the deed. Of course the Bator couldn't call us herself. I have not uttered one word to her since my grandmother's funeral and I do not have anymore words for her that aren't of the curse variety. She knows this. In fact, if I could have, I would have had her sent to prison on manslaughter charges of neglect. I even contacted the local Sheriff's department and State Police to see if there was anything that I could do. To even have moved forward on the issues would have been next to impossible, so I just focused on grieving and my family. I should have made the bitch rot in prison.

Anyway, this time the story is that she wants my brother III off of the deed and in order to do that, Tree and I have to sign some paperwork in the next six days and have it notarized. M'kay, follow along:

1. I do not sign random paperwork..
2. Especially not from crooked asshatchets like the bitch that birthed me.
3. The previous paperwork was, I GUARANTEE, written by her in some gobbledygook legalese that she probably made up. I laughed when I read it sitting in L's kitchen the first time.
4. No way in hell is that cracked out Ogre getting access to my signature. Ever.
5. How come this time the deed needs to be signed off on for a different reason? In another 6 months, what's the reasoning going to be? Someone is dying of typhoid fever and they need our signatures to save them?
6. 487 other reasons not to trust this person

L told them all of this. My brother called her up and told her she was a "stupid bitch." Yeah, abusing the ONLY member of your family that Tree and I have anything to do with in order to get us to do what you want is not really the greatest idea you moron.

Anyway, I told L my answer. Period. No go.

An hour later my phone rings. Guess who? That's right ladies and gentlemen..... dummmmmm, dum, dummmmmm....... The Incubator.

My husband answered the phone and brought it upstairs all excited by the drama. He proceeded to tell me that "Now you can tell her what you think of her." I responded by saying, with the mouthpiece and receiver wide open, that I had already said everything that I needed to say and had nothing further to discuss. Then I pressed the end button on my cordless phone.

Fifteen minutes later, my phone rings again. I let it ring. I checked the message about an hour later and the gist was that if we didn't want to sign off on the deed that we could start paying the dues and she would assume that we would want to start taking responsibility, etc, etc, etc.

Can anyone say bluff? I NEVER signed a document as an adult giving anyone permission to place my name on anything but my mortgage. If she wants to have a pissing contest, we can go right ahead because I drink Captain and Diet and I can outpiss a fucking camel.

In fact, I NEVER signed any documents for this deed now that I think about it. Interesting.

I will keep you appraised of the drama, but I have one thing to say:

Bring it on Bitch!!!

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Where to Begin?

I really don't know where to start in describing the wonderful Christmas/birthday that I had this year. Abstract Jenn sent me some wonderful artwork (Thank you so much I love it and have to find THE MOST PERFECTEST SPOT for it) and even thought I didn't know gorillas had access to the Internet, one sent me a box of my favorite chocolates along with the following message:

"Happy birthday bitchcakes. You're old now. Time to let yourself go!"

One more truffle, and my ass is going to burst the seam in my stretchy pants.

Here are some bullet points from the past few days:

  • My brother-in-law told us all about how he shit his pants on the way home from a Japanese steakhouse. The smell of crap made my sister, who was driving and is pregnant, puke her guts up all over the dash of the car. Afterwards, he figured since he already crapped himself that "fuck it" he was gonna piss too. When they got home, they stripped down in their back yard and hosed themselves off. My husband laughed so hard he started crying.
  • Someone accused my mom of being a little "tipsy" last night. She said the we would know when she was drunk because her clothes would start coming off. I didn't have the heart to point out that she took her shirt off in exchange for one of my tank tops because she got a little warm...
  • We played Apples to Apples on Christmas Eve. If you have never played the game, it is a cockful of fun. We came to the conclusion that Schindler's List trumps any other card played.
  • Somehow, this morphed into our naming of the Turkey ceremony where my dad and I decided to name the Turkey Oscar Schindler. My mom and sister were horrified. I pointed out that we were just honoring a man that saved thousands of Jews during the Holocaust..... Then my mom pointed out that we were ROASTING the turkey in an oven. OK. Not my greatest moment of triumph, but the name stuck.
  • We then decided to name the Ham. Actually I decided that. I named him Saffron Longshanks.
  • In two days, I made the following items: 20 lb turkey, 10 lb ham, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes, asparagus, butternut squash casserole, green bean casserole, more fucking cookies, salad, rolls, blah, blah, blah.
  • I received a knife set from my husband for Christmas. I have wanted a really good set of knives for a long time. I sliced a finger open before they were completely out of the packaging. Dumbass me.
  • My short attention span contributed to my picking up the turkey lid that I sat on top of the stove while checking the turkey, with my bare fingers, burning my thumb and three of my fingers.
  • My mom and I snuck out into our garage about an hour before dinner prep and polished off two bottles of champagne.
  • I got a sot's pint of Captain Morgans in my stocking. My husband is such a funny man.
  • It was a wonderful Christmas and even the in-laws coming over later that evening did not ruin it. Our friends, who live next door, came over with their daughter and ate dinner with us. It was fun and peaceful at the same time.
  • I won $2 on a scratch off ticket.
  • My mom and I spent all day today shopping out little hearts out.

I have been offline for most of this week and probably won't have much time to spend online until next week.

I hope that you all had a wonderful Christmas and that you have an even better New Years. Stay safe and enjoy the people you love.


Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Pissed Off

My three year old told his sister that she was "pissing him off" the other day. My husband and I had to walk away so he wouldn't see us laugh. The kid looks like an angel, but can come up with some doozies.

I came home last night to the family straightening up the house. When I walked in, the little one was hiding behind his dad. My husband nudged him forward and told him to tell me what he did. He hemmed and hawed, but wouldn't say it outright. Finally, the hubs told me to look in the bathroom. Apparently, Peanut Butter was supposed to be "cleaning" the bathroom. Instead he decided to put band aids all over this Indian Elephant that I have sitting on top of the shitter. He knocked the statue over, so when I walked in, I saw the elephant missing the top of his head, but he was covered in band aids. It was so absurd that I started laughing. I just couldn't help myself.

I am so up and down these days. I get a little despondent every time Christmas rolls around. I miss my grandmother all of the time, but especially during the holidays. She was the only one who made them special for me growing up, so I recognize my feelings for what they are: normal.

I also feel so blessed to have so many wonderful readers and friends that I have met while blogging this past year. I can honestly say that when I started writing it was more for me to have an outlet than anything else. Now, after nine short months, I am amazed at the love that I have seen in the blogging world. Through the comedy and tragedy, the laughter, tears and terrors, one thing stands true. There ARE people out there who truly care. I have received Christmas cards from quite a few of you and you have no idea what that means to me. In this information and technology age where IRL stands for "in real life", I don't know that that is true when describing us. Whether it is someone posting about abuse, the loss of a loved one, or just driving down the road singing to old pop songs, we all recognize a little bit of ourselves in others.

We may be white, black, Asian, hairy, skinny, chubby, Republican, Democrat, Green, Independent, Atheists, Christians, Muslims, Agnostics, single, married, with kids, without kids, cat lovers, dog lovers, ice cream lovers, gorillas or monkeys, but we have all connected. I have never had a bad day and not been able to read some hilarious post, or get an e-mail or IM from a buddy that didn't make that day a little more tolerable. That is the best gift of all. An open heart and a willingness to listen to my tyrannic bullshit blathering. My long-winded diatribes filled with every combination of cuss word known to man where people not only understand and are sympathetic, but they applaud my moxie. Yeah, I said moxie... you wanna make something of it?

So to all of you out there, thank you so very much. To the bloggers I have gotten to know well, I really do adore you. To those I am just getting to connect with, I am excited to learn more about you. And to the lurkers, leave a comment. I may be a stone cold bitch, but I have ALWAYS been nice to my first time commenters. It's the sophomore comments that can get a little hairy. To those of you who read and think that you can't blog, go ahead and give it a try. There's nothing to lose and a whole world of friendships and perspectives to gain.

I guess I am in a reminiscent mood and not at all like my title up there. I truly believe in the Christmas spirit. I think that there is so much that we can do for others out there and all it takes is a kind word. So here is what I want you all to do. Go off to a blog site that you haven't been to before, preferably one that is newer. Leave a comment for them. Now, now children, you have to be nice. Tell them that they are doing a good job and encourage them to blog more. It will make someones day and is just a little something nice that we can do.

Now I am off to bake more cookies and sing Silent Freakin' Night at the top of my lungs. My kids and the pets will most likely hit the ground and army crawl away quicker that you can say Tango Charlie, but ask me if I care.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Lady of the Manor

Well Lah-di-fucking-dah!! I have gone and done it now. Yes folks, I have taken your advice. *GASP* You read me correctly. I have hired someone to come and muck out the stall that is my house. We have a kick-ass new cleaner at our office and I will be the fourth person to have her come clean my residence. After the last few weeks, I have had more than a few people tell me that I am a dumb ass jizz stain if I don't get someone to come help me out. So there you are. Happy now?

But what, oh what, will you bitch about now ADW, you ask? Well, these are the following things left to bitch about:

- Inlaws
- My vagina
- Waxing
- Idiots
- Dickweed drivers
- Snow
- Ohio sports teams guaranteed to choke even if they make the playoffs
- My husband
- My kids
- My pets
- My neighbors
- People who should be there when you need them, but aren't
- Small Penises
- Speaking of the above: SPAMMERS
- Russians and why they never visit me
- Tom Cruise
- Dildos
- Cooking
- Anal Bleaching
- Hooters
- Mastubation
- Camel Toes

Need I go on?

The list is endless. And it's not me, it's them.

Oh and over the course of 36 hours I baked 35 dozen cookies. And I am not done. Here is my cookie list:

1. Chocolate Chip
2. Double Mint Chocolate
3. Pecan Tassies
4. Kolaczkis
5. Cinnamon Chip Cookies
6. Sugar Cookies
7. Gingerbread Men
8. Peanut Butter Cookies
9. Peanut Butter Blossoms

What I have left to make:

1. Buckeyes
2. Russian Tea Cakes
3. Oatmeal Raisin Cookies
4. Andes Mint Cookies
5. More of the ones I already made.

See!!! I cook. Suck on that one.

Friday, December 14, 2007

The Comforts of Childhood

Sitting here, I am thinking back to some of my fondest childhood memories. While there are some fairly (more than) shitty ones filtered in there, my grandmother (who is now a freaking SAINT now) gave me some of the best ones.

There was that time that she was making these cookies that had like every chip known to man in them plus molasses and peanut butter and nuts and shit, when she got a phone call. My sister and I managed to snag the batter bowl off of the table and proceeded to eat every last drop of batter by the time she returned. Boy did we get our asses beat for that one. Good times.

Then there was the time my cousin's mom called be a nasty name for beating the shit out of her pansy-assed little boy and I made a rotten concoction out of flour and water and some other shit and dumped it over her head. She chased me around the campground for like an hour, but as I was not yet a smoker (I think I was about 12 at the time) I managed to elude capture. The entire time she was swearing at me in Spanish, being from Mexico, I taunted and laughed at her until she finally gave up to go home and make tacos.

But today my little lovelies, I want to talk about my favorite thing from childhood: Grape Dimetapp. Holy fuckballs did that shit make everything all better. As I sit here, wracked with chills from the latest viral infection to invade my holy temple of awesomeness, I am reminded of the many times that I was ill and my grandma said to me: "Baby, just get down some of that medicine from the cabinet and we'll make you all better." She would give me a healthy swig of the divine nectar and cuddle with me until I slipped off into the netherworld of waving colors and disco music. I never realized that Grape Dimetapp was addictive. All I knew was that when I was sick it made me feel better and DID NOT taste like the inside of a hippo's cooter like that shitty ass other medicine. So in reality, my grandma was the first person to get me high, but it made me feel better. I can't remember what the original ingredients in that medicine were, but I remember hearing that they eventually had to redesign the recipe and it soon lost all potency. If my imagination serves me correctly, I do believe that it was made up of equal parts rum, speedball, Blue #17, cacao beans eaten and then defecated by rhesus monkeys, and water. I could be wrong though. Whatever it was, I sure wish I had some now since what I thought was a three day long hangover from red wine, was in actuality the bubonic plague.

Now if I could only garner up the energy to clean my cunting dirty house. Stupid fucking thing. I am sooooo sick of cleaning. I hate it. I would rather give myself a brillo pad douche than have to clean the mess that is my house before my family gets here. I am fairly certain that my laundry loads are going to beat my last record of 22. I am positive that I am going to have to scrub my floors. And by scrub I mean get down on my hands and knees with hot, Clorox water for the first go round and regular hot water for the rinsing. In my opinion, floors aren't clean unless they are cleaned with Clorox. Then for my wood floors, I will repeat, but replace the Clorox with vinegar. Plus I have about 478 dozen cookies to make with my kids this weekend, food shopping for the holiday meals, more cleaning, three soccer games, homework with SuperDiva, Christmas Card addressing, present wrapping, gift shipping and a whole cocksucking load of other shit to get finished. Arghhhhh!!!!

And let's not forget my new project: THE MANCARD GAME. Avi and I came up with the basic premise, but I need to think about it some more before we put it out there. Sounds like fun doesn't it? I am sure I will get to that about the same time I finish up my perverted Pinocchio story that is way past due.

Oh and I am pissed at RWA. How dare he post about a radio interview regarding HOOTERS and not even think about inviting me. Me? ME????? Seriously? Does he not know what I did for a living for three years? Don't worry though, I called him out on it. Now I am busting his balls here as well.

Happy Weekend Dear Ones!!!

Thursday, December 13, 2007

This Can't Be Good

I took a test.

The results are not what I would deem good.


100% Free at JustSayHi

That said, I was a bartender for many, many years....

And, go check out the T-Shirt the Zen Wizard created for me. What a lovely stocking stuffer that would make. Thanks buddy!!!

12 days until I turn 30. Fuck it, I am going to enjoy this. No I'm not. Yes I am. No. Yes. We shall see.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Cocksuckers Everyone of Them

I just felt like putting cocksuckers in the title. The truth is, I am at that "don't care about anything, lie down on the couch, while life passes me by" phase of my emotional cycle. I have a huge amount of stress at work. There is a project that I know I am not going to win and several more on the line. I was recently told that only 5% of the sophomore sales people (that would be me) make it to their third year. I am going from an amateur to a professional with a HUGE increase in my quota. HUGE. Things are just going sideways and it's making me crazy. There is NO control in that aspect of my life right now and I am in a difficult and demanding profession.

Then there is the personal life. This last year has been extremely hard on my marriage. If the things that happened this year had occurred at an earlier time I would have already walked away. Instead I am trying. And trying and trying and trying. The one good thing in all of this is that my husband seems to be the only person in my life that actually gets me. He knows how fucking crazy I am. He accepts, or tries to accept, that side of me. That is part of the problem. Sometimes I want someone who just tells me that everything will be all right. Just because I am not very romantic does not mean that I don't appreciate the gesture every once in a while. And like a blogging friend of mine, I want him to want to do the dishes and pick up the slack when I am depressed and having a bad time of it. I don't want to have to ask every single time. Plus I am still mad at him because he made me cry. In over seven years, this is the first time that something he did made me cry. Sure I have cried OVER things that have happened in the past, but his actual actions and words upset me so much that I cried. I NEVER FUCKING CRY. It is not in my job description.

By the way, apparently three bottles of wine is one too many. Could someone please put that on a T-shirt and send it to me so I can remember that the next time. And when you puke red wine out of the passenger window of a black vehicle while driving on the highway, it leaves a big pink streak down the side.

On an even lower note, my bestest friend BBS has 6 ulcers. Six acid-producing, gut clenching, painful ulcers. This is not good. At 25, one should not have that much stress. Her life, is personal, but since you have all come to know her somewhat, please keep her in your thoughts and if you pray, your prayers.

I am thinking about telling her that the ulcers will be good for her weight loss regimen and offer to take a couple of them off her hands, but I think I will wait a few days first.

Oh and my in-laws can suck my dick. Seriously. Fuck off with all of the nonsense. I am taking my dad's advice and not letting anyone ruin my Christmas. The only person who can get in the way of my happiness is me.

Fuck I am good. The above sentence should also be on a T-shirt. Or maybe a fortune cookie.

Anyway, peace out fuckers.

Sunday, December 9, 2007



First of all, we would like to thank you for the lovely and hilarious comments about OUR turning 29 +1 in a few short weeks. WE have also decided that WE will be regal and royal with OUR advancing age and will, in turn, treat ourself as royalty demands. This means new shoes and referring to ourself in the third person. Don't worry too much, since WE should be taking English as a second language and WE will fuck up the references often enough to lose interest in this undertaking.

WE are very pissed off today. OUR Holiday plans are not going well and the blame lies solidly in the corner of the In-Law area of OUR life. WE are sick and tired of always being away from OUR family every ever-loving holiday and special event in OUR life. So WE have been planning an amazing Christmas celebration with OUR family flying in from down south to enjoy it with US. However, the in-laws are not cooperating. WE are certain that you know all about the Thanksgiving fiasco since you read US every day and you already know where WE are going with this.

To be short and precise about it, WE shall say that when things don't go OUR way, WE tend toward the desire to lop off someone's head. WE are sharpening OUR lopping knife this evening.

Sick and tired, tired and sick. Can WE have this one thing go right this time? Just this one?

WE called the rents last night to tell them of the horrid happenings that are occurring in OUR life, and the father person was bouncing off of the walls. The mother person should really stop giving him caffeine after 4:00 PM. He did give US some good advice to ignore the others and just enjoy OUR holiday time with OUR family. WE shall strive to fulfill that wish and if anyone else has a problem with that, then can go bugger themselves.

This week is going to be very, very hectic for US. WE have a bid response due on Thursday and just received the request this past Friday. Working weekends is so much fun. WE will attempt to keep up with OUR blog reading, but can make no promises about that. In addition there are two Christmas plays to attend, decorations to put up and a room to finish painting. If WE were really royalty, WE would have servants to take care of the more mundane tasks, but alas, WE are only royal in OUR own mind, so WE shall scrub floors in a tiara this week. WE have one in the basement. And a feather boa.

WE shall leave you with two of our father person's quotes:

"You deserve what you tolerate."

"Pain is vastly underestimated as a positive motivator."

Have a great week and please send Xanax!!!!

Love you,

Queen ADW

aka Empress of the Universe and Beyond

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Point 1 - To clarify my last post, it was my 100h post, but a few were lost in the shuffle, so it looks like I am only on ninety-something if you look at my archives. Which you all should because there is some early blogging gold in there.

Do you all LOVE Christmas?????????


The whole time I was growing up I loathed Christmas. For several reasons. First off, growing up with and living with the "Incubator" until I left home at seventeen was not the best of times. There was constant fighting and bickering at Christmastime. My sister Tree and I quite often felt left out because it seemed that the half-siblings got better, more, yadda, yadda, presents than we did. Those memories are so far past that I can't really remember if that was the case or not, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was. I ALWAYS ended up getting into trouble over the holidays and was grounded (that was getting off lucky) for some made up infraction of THE RULES.

I always envisioned this lovely dinner with the family, singing carols and opening up presents. The reality of the affair was that we opened up our gifts on Christmas Eve, not because we had anywhere else to go, but most likely so we wouldn't wake Cruella and her minion up at the ass crack of dawn. We were also not allowed to believe in Santa Claus. What, you say? That is correct. As I child, I missed out on the pleasures of the story of Saint Nick and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy and leprechauns and unicorns and all of that other awesome kid shit. I was also not allowed to play with barbie doll and it wasn't because the witch was a feminazi or anything. Come to think of it, I am really not sure why I wasn't allowed to play with them, but one Christmas, my stepfather's sister gave us barbie dolls and La Bruja threw them away as soon as we left the step-aunt's house. What a cunt.

I am rambling, which is normal, so I no longer worry whether my readers will stick it out.

Christmasses were never filled with the happy family times that I kept praying for, but sometimes, I think that prayers go unanswered for good reason. Now, I am making memories and traditions with my family that I hope are passed down to their children and so on. And these memories are even more special because they help to erase the trying times of my childhood. Don't get me wrong, there were good times, but they were always (in my memories) due to my grandmother or my siblings. I don't have many fond memories of the hyena who gave birth to me and four other children. To be honest, she must have struggled against her natural instinct to eat us at birth, so I am glad to be here.

To address the Santa Claus issue, I think that we weren't allowed to believe in him due to some kind of religious beliefs, but I don't get that. How can the belief in a man who does nothing but good for small children be a bad thing? I constantly struggle with my religious views and I almost never discuss them with others, because.... well it's religion and never a good topic. Plus I do not push my faith on others or judge them for believing in different things from me, or not believing in anything if that is their wish. Most people are quite surprised to find out that I have a religious faith and even that I attend church services, on occassion. I don't know why that is, other than the feeling that many people tend to judge you on their interpretation of what they think a representative of a specific faith should be instead of realizing that we are all who we are regardless of what we believe.

Going back to other unpleasant thigs, the other reason that I disliked the holidays as a kid was my birthday. Birthday!!!!! Yeah. On freaking Christmas freaking day. Oh sure, the whole world celebrates on that day. I get to share it with a really important person. But guess what? I got the shit gipped out of me.

I started writing this post the other day and decided halfway through "fuck it".

My fucking birthday is on Christmas day = SUCKS Hemorrhoids

My FUCKING 30th Birthday is THIS CHRISTMAS DAY = Kill me now


I have learned to love Christmas. Not so much the birthday.


For those of you who are younger than I am - KISS MY FLABBY ASS!!

For those of you who are older than I am and are THINKING about leaving a condescending comment on how not bad turning 30 is and it will just get worse, et cetera - GO FUCK A RHINO


I hate my birthday.

I don't wanna turn 30. Waaaaaaaaaaaa.......

21 more days. I see the lines. I see the sag. I see the cellulite. I see the crow's feet. The end is near.

Just shut up and let me pout before I take out my virtual Uzi and spray your asses with it.

You better all - EVERY Single one of you, including the lurkers - BETTER leave me a comment. Tell me I am pretty and I look like I am 22. Tell me that I have skin like the lovelist golden pearls. Tell me that I am so NOT getting chubby.



*****PS****** I want a love link from all youse bitches. Ya hear me.********