Is it Christmas already? Did I sleep through Halloween and Thanksgiving, or did we just skip all that shit and go straight to the Ho Ho Ho Season?
Oh, it’s Halloween today? Well, ya could knock me over with a feather, because I went to The Wal-Mart looking for some Halloween stuff, and thought I had stepped into a Winter-fucking-Wonderland.
There were Christmas dresses and wreaths and lights and various holiday doo-dads all over the place. And hidden behind a lovely selection of Hickory Farms Holiday meat baskets, I finally found 2 bags of low-budget Halloween candy (you know, the kind with mostly those crappy-tasting jawbreakers?), a Superman cape, and a hooker wig.
Luckily, I already had a costume for Miss Smarty Britches and myself (so that hooker wig's still available, ladies!). We took part in a haunted birthday party last weekend. MSB was the Grim Reaper, and I was a zombie.
Just add red lipstick, and I'm Courtney Love!
We really had a lot of fun scaring the shit out of little kids. Yeah, we’re mean.
The kids went on a “haunted” walk through the woods. MSB was up in a treehouse, so it looked like she was floating, and she threw plastic spiders on the kids when they walked past her.
They stuck my ass out in the woods by some fake headstones with a spooky light. I laid down in front of the headstones, and my cousin dumped two trash bags full of leaves on me.
When the kids walked by, I stuck my hand up out of those leaves, and the screaming and crying began! WooooHoooo! I fucking ROCK as a zombie! Then I limped after them a la Jason Vorhees, eliciting even more peewee panic.
So, tonight MSB is trick-or-treating with my sister and her two-year-old, who is the cutest stinking li’l cowboy EVER!
And I’m at home with more than 5 minutes to myself, so I decided to grace you with a Halloween blog post.
Now, last Halloween I did a post about how all of the female costumes were slutty, naughty, or sexy. I suggest you read it HERE, or my zombie self will come to your house and eat your brains.
This year, I've decided to post about what some of you people do to your poor dogs every Halloween. That's right....doggie costumes! Along with what I think these pups would say to their owners if they could talk.
"I hope you get warts."
"Somebody better save me a turkey leg."
"A cat? You dressed me up as a fucking cat?"
"I'm a wild and craaaazy guy!"
"What are the guys down at the park gonna say?"
"Oh yeah. I'm cooking you up something REAL nice. Check your shoe in the morning."
"I couldn't be Toto. Nooooo, I've gotta be that skipping bitch Dorothy!"
"Gilligaaaaan!"
"The bitches love a baller!"
"I'm the bride, and this is MY day! I said I wanted roses, not no cheap ass daisies! It's MY DAY, DAMMIT!"
"Kiss my ass. Really."
"I'm really more of a jeans kind of girl."
"Garsh, our owners are creative...NOT!"
"I am Bark Vader."
"Shit on your rug, I will."
"I bit the sheriff...."
"What do you mean you don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' no puppies?"
"I never get my own costume! I always have to wear my cousin, the chihuahua's hand-me-downs. NO quiero Taco Bell!"
"What am I, Jurassic Bark?"
"I am SO chewing your hat later, sailor boy."
"Yeah, I'm Paula Deen's dog."
"Slash can't rock out without his hat and guitar. Bring me my fucking hat and guitar!"
"Hey, Marmaduke. Wassup, big boy?"
"Weiner dogs dressed as hot dogs: yep, that's original."
"Pimpin' ain't easy."
"You've jacked my hair all up. Do you have any idea how much my salon charges?"
"But I'm not even a hound dog!"
"Have the lambs stopped crying, Clarice?"
So, there you go. Hope you enjoyed this year's Halloween post. And for cripe's sake, just let your doggie be a doggie!
This past weekend, the husband and I went to a local festival where they were having 3 tribute bands.
For those who don’t know, tribute bands are bands that dress and perform like a famous band. It’s basically for people who are too cheap to go see the real thing. [Pointing discreetly at husband.]
First was an Eagles band, and then an excellent AC/DC band. The final band, Guns 4 Roses started at 10:00 p.m.
Hey, bet you can't guess which band Guns 4 Roses pays homage to. Hint: It‘s not Aerosmith.
Anyway, by this time, some of the people at the festival were pretty toasted.
And by toasted, I mean drunk as hell, shit-faced, sloshed, plastered, juiced, three sheets to the wind.
And no, this is not an autobiography. Assholes.
The dude who is the focus of this post was all of the above, and probably some I couldn’t think of. I think he may have also been a crackhead, except he wasn’t skinny. Maybe he’s new at being a crackhead, and just hasn’t lost the weight yet. Hmmmmm.
So, after watching the drunk for a while, I thought of you, my bloggy friends, and whipped out my camera. Here is a series of photos, along with a narrative by yours truly (that’s me!).
Let's show some skin and get it started up in this mo-fo!
He's gonna do a trick! He's gonna do a trick!
Eh, never mind. He's just gonna hold up that pole for now.
Whoa! Somebody moved the damn sidewalk!
That's right, buddy. Drink a little more. #nothelpful
"Young man, there's no need to feel down I said young man, pick yourself off the ground." AC/DC sang that, right?
Drop it like it's HOT!
And for our final picture, I just couldn't resist popping my sweaty head up in there.
Before I go, I would like to say that my favorite vendor at the festival (besides the funnel cake stand, of course) was Black Top Revolution. Go check them out here.
They had some awesome shirts, rockin' boots, and really cool jewelry. I totally need some of this stuff to appropriately portray my rock 'n' roll lifestyle, so y'all go buy some gear and make sure to tell them I sent you; and PLEASE stress that they should send me some free shit.
I stopped at Family Dollar last night to get some thread because Miss Smarty Pants has a dance recital this week.
Any veteran dance parent knows that thread will be a necessity at some point in the recital. Other required items include: safety pins, scissors, Tylenol, Valium, Mountain Dew, vodka, and pepper spray for other people's unruly children.
[Note: A stun gun can be substituted for the pepper spray.]
Anywhoodles, I went to the dollar sto’ for some silver thread (which they didn’t have, but kiss my ass, because white is just going to have to work). MSP didn’t want to go inside because she was wearing makeup and had her tap outfit on.
So, being the nice (read: lazy) mom that I am, I let her stay in the car. After all, I’d be in and out in 2 minutes.
It actually turned into 3 minutes because I couldn’t find the thread because it was by the goddamned soup.
Way to make shopping convenient, Family Dollar!
So when I come back out, MSP hops out of the car and tells me that some lady hit my car and drove off.
Another lady who witnessed the cruel ramming of my sweet Honda came up and gave me her phone number and a partial license plate number and a description of the perpetrator.
The witness tried to stop the car-abusing bitch from leaving, but the wench just waved her hand vaguely, and said, “Tell her I live over there, and she can come to my house.”
Then she DROVE THE FUCK OFF!
I know you’re thinking, “No she didun’t!” Well, yes she DID!
Ok, now I’m pissed. There’s really not much damage to my car, just a few scratches, but she should have either waited on me or left me a note.
I probably would have told her not to worry about it. But not now.
Oh noooooo! She done pissed off the Opto-Mom now, so I called the police. They drove around “over there,” which was the general direction that the vehicle-bashing asshat indicated with that vague wave of her scummy hand.
They didn’t have any luck finding her, probably because she lives “over yonder,” which is the exact opposite of “over there,” just in case you’re not familiar with Texas vernacular.
It does give me a small amount of satisfaction that my Honda SUV only has a few scratches, but the witness lady said that Miss Shithead’s SUV looked like it had been smashed with a large hammer.
Artist's representation - Not the actual vehicle of the asshat.
But I’m not giving up. Anyone here in East Texas, be on the lookout for a white Yukon with a smashed back end. The driver was a black female with a pink shirt.*
Make sure to leave me YOUR ideas of an appropriate punishment for Miss Scuzz-Nugget.
I’m coming for ya, Biotch! Be afraid…
*Please note that the perpetrator probably has more shirts, and has most likely changed out of the pink shirt in an effort to avoid my Sherlock-like detection.
As some of you may know, my husband is in a rock band.
When they started trying to think of a name for the band, they went through several options. The first name they came up with was Dy-Nasty. Like Dynasty, but with a little more “nasty.”
The next name that they considered was Dirty Dick and the Four Skins, but that was nixed because they only had 4 people in the band, and none of them were named Dick. Damn! And I really liked that one.
They finally settled on SnakeBone, which is a good name for a rock band because you’ve got “Snake,” which is kinda sinister sounding, and you’ve got “Bone,” which is creepy.
Yeah. Rockers are into skulls and shit like that.
Because my mind works in mysterious ways, I decided to think up some of the WORST names for a rock/metal band. And share them with you, because I'm generous like that.
Metallicious - Kinda like Bootylicious, but more metal-y.
Rainbow Zombies - Here is a pic to depict the awesomeness of the Rainbow Zombies.
Wretched Kangaroo Abortion - I may have to trademark this.
Buffalo Ballet - And that’s totally NOT a Kirstie Alley reference. Blonde Spider Apocalypse - Oooh, scary...and yet still sexy, don't ya think?
Shaved Kitten - Ok, I must say that this one is pretty fuckin’ great!
Meow, muthafucker.
Drunken Prius - For the metal band gone “green.”
The Chunky Ferrets - I'm thinking Sammy Hagar could front this band.
Head Bangtastic - Mixture of head banging and fantastic-ness.
The Cheesy Skull Boys - Skull for the spooky factor, and cheese because, well…cheese is hella awesome!
Cocaine Diaper Addiction - This reminds me of my uncle. Trust me, you don't wanna know.
Black Avalanche Band - Has kind of a cool vibe.
Iron Unicorn - Not your everyday sparkly unicorn.
Ass of Lucifer - My husband’s totally going to try and steal this one.
First of all, I would like to say that my sister, Lacy, is AWESOME!
Really, she didn't even bribe me with bacon to say that. I came up with it all on my own!
Wanna know what she did? Do ya? Do ya?
Ok, keep your pants on (except for you there sir...you can take yours off). I'm gonna tell you.
My sister made a beautiful pictorial tribute to our mom and put it on YouTube.
My mom. Isn't she lovely? (Just say, "YES!")
Our mom died in 2000 before she could see either of her beautiful grandbabies, who I will describe for you now. Briefly, so you don't get bored.
My daughter is Miss Smarty Pants (MSP), and she was born in 2001. My sister's baby, who we will call Rocker Dude (RD) was born in 2009. RD is so named because the child is not even 2 years old, and he already LOVES guitars. He likes to hold them, play them, look at them, lick them, what-ever-the-hell, just give the boy a 'tar and he is dandy.
So, without further ado, here is the video. I've narrated the pics below, just in case you give a shit who all these people are. Also, there are very sexy pictures of my legs included, so try to control your libidos, folks!
Ok, I guess that was WITH further ado, but now there's no more ado, so here is the video:
So, who the heck are these people?
1. Our grandma (Mom's mother)
2. Mom's parents
3-6. Pics of my mom wearing a selection of corny glasses from the 60s and 70s.
7. Mom and Dad - damn weirdos!
8. Me and Mom with a goat and a weird farmer dude. This is why I have an aversion to farms to this day!
9. Mom - more glasses
10. Bringing my baby sis home from the hospital. That's me with the sexy legs. I'm not sure how those skinny things didn't break in half. Good Lord!
11. Me and Dad
12. Mom and me holding kids at a birthday party. I think that's my sister trying to stick her head in the cake.
13. Mom and Lacy (my little sis) - They are so sweet when they're asleep, right?
14. Me, Mom, Lacy
15. Dad, Mom, and me holding Lacy. As you can tell, I got my sexy legs from my dad...but not my socks...
16. Lacy as a baby on the left. Me as a baby on the right. Don't write it out loud on here, but feel free to e-mail me privately if you think I'm cuter.
17. My husband and me.
18. Me lookin' all professional
19. Me and Dad. Grandma in the background picking her teeth.
20. My and my husband - gettin' ready to ROCK!
21. My sis, Lacy, at her high school graduation (the year after Mom died).
22. My cute sister!
23. Lacy
24. Lacy and Jerry Garcia...oh, wait! That's our dad.
25. Lacy
26. My wedding day; My sister's wedding day.
27. Me and Dad; Lacy and Dad - at our weddings.
28. Me after swallowing an entire ham. No. Wait. I was just pregnant. Damn!
29. Lacy with a cute little pregnant belly. I'm going to slap her next time I see her.
30. Holding my daughter for the 1st time.
31. Lacy holding her son for the 1st time.
32. Dad with MSP (1st grandchild)
33. Dad with RD (1st grandson)
34. Lacy with my baby
35. Me with Lacy's baby
36. Me and MSP
37. Lacy and RD
38. Sister and her family
39. Dad, Lacy, me, and MSP at Lacy's nursing school graduation.
40. Husband dancing with MSP
41. My husband playing 'tar with RD
42. Lacy with MSP at Miley Cyrus concert.
43. Lacy and me
44. Me, Dad, Lacy
45. Lacy - thinking she's a damn princess! Whatever!
46. Me giving the stank eye. WHY????
47. Daughter being prissy before she became a tomboy.
48. MSP
49. MSP the biker baby with my dad
50 - 52. MSP
53. RD and MSP - their 1st Christmas pics
54. RD with his faux hawk - Rock on, dude!
55. RD the chubby cheeked wonder!
56. RD and his daddy
57. RD with his 'tar!!!
58. RD
59. Bad hair day for my mom (top), MSP (middle), and RD (bottom)
60. Siblings - my mom on the right. Their aunt in the front
61. Some of Mom's awesome sisters! Love these girls!
62. Mom in the middle with some of her brothers and sisters.
63. Me and my sister lighting a candle in memory of our mom at Lacy's wedding. She shoulda been there. It's not fair.
If you're still here, thanks so much for sticking with me. And please give my sister a standing ovation.
Yes, right there at your computer. Go ahead and do it now, and I'll make sure to pass it along.
Happy Mother's Day, everyone!!!
And Mom, I miss you dearly, every single day of the year.
Since I went to Dallas this past weekend, I originally called it “Shelia Does Dallas.” (If you don’t get that reference, you’re probably too young to be reading my blog.)
But Hobos and Vomit and Dildos, Oh My! sounded quite charming and whimsical, which is totally what I was going for here.
Now, don’t worry! This is not a boring look-at-my-pictures-of boring-stuff-I-did-this-weekend kind of post. There’s lots of action and fun, so read on, readers!!!
I went with my crazy cousin, Tammy, to see Lisa Lampanelli at the Majestic Theatre Friday night.
At the show, there was a whole row of very flashy dudes sitting behind us. Most of them were very cool, but one of the men was very loud and rude during the opening act; so my cousin turned around and told him to shut the fuck up. She’s so shy!
I was fully expecting to be ambushed by the dudes in the parking lot. However, we did make it out safely (probably due to the giant pair of scissors I had in my purse) and then checked into the Hyatt Regency. Here is an over-the-balcony pic that made my butt hole clench up while I was taking it.
On Saturday, we went to Dick’s Last Resort for some great food and drinks.
Our awesome waitress made us some very classy hats.
If you can't see this, the dude has a broken finger, and his hat says, "I broke my finger in her butt!"
For some reason, a group of ladies decided to bring their kids into Dick’s. Bad idea! I was trying to hide my totally inappropriate hat because the kids were staring and trying to read it.
The kids were mostly girls, but trailing them was one young boy. He read my hat, and then waggled his eyebrows at me, and said, “Nice!”
Oh. My. God.
I just received a nice-blow-job-hat eyebrow waggle from a friggin‘ 9-year-old!
Then the tornado sirens started going off in downtown Dallas, and the electricity went off. I went to the bathroom, and thought I had locked the door properly, but hell…it was dark…who knew for sure?
This hooker in a sparkly dress busts into my stall, practically crushing my skull with the stall door.
She trilled, in a very annoying little voice, “Omigod! I’m like, so sorry. But it’s ok because we all have, like, the same parts. Hee hee hee!”
Yeah, bitch, but what about that subdural hematoma you just gave me?
Here is a pic of the stall-slamming whore who wore a sequined evening dress to a restaurant that serves ribs and something called “Chick’n Fry’d Chicky.”
When I regained consciousness, Tammy and I decided to scope out the city. That’s when we spotted a store called “Condoms To Go.”
We just knew this had serious blog potential, so we entered the establishment to do a little research.
Yes, it was totally for research, not because we are perverts. Seriously, stop laughing!
A young lady employee, who we shall call “Cherry” was schooling us on the benefits of a personal shaving product called “Coochy.” With a straight face.
I decided that this was an excellent time for an impromptu blog interview.
Me: So this place is “Condoms To Go.” Is there also a “Condoms To Stay” in the city?
Cherry: Ummm, not that I know of. It’s pretty much a take-out kind of business.
Me: Has anyone ever asked if you have a fitting room?
Cherry: {giggling} No, but that’s an excellent idea!
Me: Do you have any of these edible underwear that taste like chicken?
Cherry: We only have apple and watermelon.
Me: Do these pasties pull the hair off of your nipples when you remove them?
Cherry: You have hair on your nipples?
Me: Uhhh, never mind! I’m doing the interviewing here, dammit! So, about these 12-inch diameter butt plugs...does anyone actually buy these?
Cherry: A few people. Very few.
Me: Can I have their phone numbers?
Cherry: No.
Then she walked off. Hmmph. And I thought it was going so well!
Here are some interesting pictures that I covertly snapped in the store:
Later on Saturday night, we poofed up our hair for a night on the town.
Tammy and I decided it would be a super-fun idea to ride the train over to the West End.
Sometimes "super-fun" actually translates to "super-homicidal."
While waiting for the train, we were accosted by several very aggressive hobos who “just wanted to buy some food, man.”
I’m sure they would NOT have used the money to buy booze or cigarettes, even though they all smelled like 2 a.m. at the local honky tonk.
One of them even pulled out her papers to prove that she had just gotten released from jail that day.
Because that made her seem much more respectable.
Also, we saw someone’s pants in the trash can. I don’t even want to know.
Hey, maybe one of the panhandlers can sell these pants to buy more crack and Wild Turkey food.
When we finally got on the train, we noticed a very strange and foul odor. Checking the seat in front of us, we saw this:
Yes, that’s vomit.
Thank God we had a very short ride to our destination.
We rounded off the evening by eating some excellent sushi, having a few drinks, listening to some music, and NOT riding the train back to the hotel. Taxi!!!
Despite a massive head wound, potential tornados, the vomit incident, and monster anal plugs, this was the most fun I‘ve had in a long time!
Yes, my social life is sad.
Now, who wants to go with me on my next road trip?
