January 23rd, 2010 | 15 Comments »

Okay, I’ve never had funeral potatoes, but I might want to look up the recipe.

I swore I wouldn’t attend any more funerals after my Mom died because, frankly, it was ugly. But then, it was not Dad’s children that were being mean-spirited. It was Mom’s. I just now figured that out.

My mother and father had a marriage made in hell, and I believe his second marriage made him into the kind of man that gave his second set of children the father I never had.

I have to say that this particular funeral service was very healing for all concerned, and certainly provided healing for me.

I want to say a word about his second wife, mildly amusing OCD stepmother. She loved him without reservation, and wanted to be certain that his send-off was her last gift to him. She pulled it off like a champion. There was no drama, no sniping at others, and everyone just loved on everyone else.

She did her best to make everyone feel welcomed, and wanted to send him off with a nice family gathering. She put aside any differences she might have with others, and she did it because she loved him so much.

The funeral directors made a point of remarking what a nice family they dealt with. I’m pretty sure they have seen some train wrecks, but there were none in evidence that day.

Grammie showed up and provided some welcome comic relief. I can honestly say it was an awesome service. Look here for a creepily appropriate picture of Grammie.

I resolved I would say goodbye to my father in the same spirit which I met him. With the unrestrained love of an infant.

That is precisely what I did. I am so thankful.

I’m totally okay with this. And? That is my miracle.

And guess who was one of the first non-family members that showed up for the viewing? Horny McSlutty! Bonus. We thought he might be dead too.

Thank you all for your good energy and wishes. Know that I felt it, and greatly appreciated it.

You are in my heart.

January 17th, 2010 | 8 Comments »

I was on a lengthy phone call last night with one of my twin cousins. At one point in the convo,she told me that her twin sister was playing with the Ouija Board, and had a message for me.

The message? Was from my first puppy love boyfriend, Horny McSlutty The content of the message was that he was sorry for the way he had treated me.

Twin cuz was a bit startled by my response. Because I totally cracked up.

She only got the funny when I described the picture in my head of the long line of women that this boy had to contact from the spirit realm to apologize to. I just figured he’d be wicked busy for quite some time.

I did an obit search and didn’t find his death announcement. Frankly, there’s a few other people I would like to get an apology from for the way they have treated me. This one? It’s a non-issue. I’m so over it.

November 12th, 2008 | 25 Comments »

I haven’t been regularly saving my search strings lately. They are rather similar. Lots of searches for naked housework, and one that cracks me up because I’m sure it disappoints, is The Vagina Rocks. I get about 10 or so hits a day on that post. Here are some rather persistant search terms.

what do you say to make a boy horney? How tough can this be? Boys are naturally horny. Usually, just saying that you are willing to have sex with them is enough. Of course, if he’s gay, you might want to have your brother say it.

christmas pajama party I had a fun pajama party a few weeks ago, since I’m logged into the Psychic Power Network most of the time and don’t get out, it was more come as you are in my case. However, I’m thinking Christmas pajamas would be very festive and fun. We could all model our new Christmas themed jammies. Don’t be giving me ideas. I’m dangerous that way.

how to make girls fart The quickest way is to feed them beans. Or, in my case, meat. I did a you tube search for a video that I found hilarious. Makes me laugh. Every single time. I’ve watched it a lot. And I want to share it with you, because, dang, farts are funny.

During my YouTube search, I began to suspect that this querent wanted to make girls fart for reasons other than comedy.There was kind of a p0rn fart video. Yuck. Your search brought you to the wrong place. Farts are funny. That is all. Now go to YouTube. They have what you want.

hangy breasts porn I can only suspect the poor dear is no longer stimulated by his wife’s implants. Could have saved yourself a bundle if you saw that coming, couldn’t you, sunshine?

mcslutty That’s Horny McSlutty to you, missy. He was my first love, but he is still up to his old tricks. You are welcome to him. Just tell him you are willing to have sex with him. See above, in how to make a boy horny.

Posted in search terms
May 23rd, 2008 | 19 Comments »

Ah, memories. When I was looking at photos to unearth from my dusty albums yesterday,I was reminded of the time the town thought I had a bastard child.

My father had remarried to somewhat reclusive 23 year old, mildly amusing OCD stepmother the previous May, and she bore him a son December 27th of that same year. Yes. You, too, can do maths.

Early in January, when the baby was only ten days old, the whole family moved from a bustling metropolis to the quiet resort town I was born in. I rather enjoyed being a big sister to a cute baby, and I took him with me everywhere but school. He was a social child, and the stepmother was somewhat reserved.

Here’s the image that brought it back to me.

Now look in the background, on the clothesline. See all those? They would be diapers. And onesies. And all sorts of baby thingies.*

Somehow it didn’t occur to me that people would not believe me when I insisted this child was not mine. He was a very smart and entertaining kid. Small town. Something fun to do, right?

It was quite a while before mildly amusing OCD stepmother ventured onto the streets of our quaint little town. And when she took the little professor in his stroller, he would recognize people and perk right up. That’s really how she got to know people there. Through the child that had already charmed half the populace.

First, she had to go through the gauntlet.

“Why, you’re taking witchypoo’s baby for a walk.”

“No. This is my son.”

“But he was only ten days old when she moved here with him.”

“When I moved here with my husband, son, and stepchildren.”

This happened so many times that she forayed out less and less. She couldn’t seem to take credit for this remarkable being.

What nobody would tell me is that my boyfriend was Horny McSlutty. I mean that he was doing just about every girl and woman for miles around. The guys really liked him, as he was charismatic, and the girls wouldn’t reveal their own part in him being such a slut. I was extremely naive, to say the least, but it would have been physically impossible for me to have given birth ten days before we moved. You know, the whole sex thing. Generally it’s necessary to get pregnant.

So it seemed natural that Horny McSlutty’s girlfriend had already produced a child out of wedlock. Turns out he had a few of them running around.

Want to know what was really funny?

My father was beyond strict with me. I had rigid curfews. My theory was that he remembered what he was like at that age.

When did he lift my curfews? When?

When I took up with Horny McSlutty.

The one all the guys, including my father, liked.

Irony? I think so.

* The image in the red jumpsuit with the child on my shoulders? That would be the little professor, the one who is in the Air Force today.