It's a Multi-Personality type of day!

Mood #1 - Bitchy!

And it's not even the type of bitchy I could chalk up to PMS.  No... it's more of that "Oh, why don't you just fuck yourself?" bitchy.  You know the type... I'm actually in a good mood, I'm just not in the mood for certain things.  Like... idiots on Facebook whining about their shitty lives... or teenagers coo-cooing about their pathetic love lifes... or people bitching about homework, housework, childcare, etc.

So... I've pretty much ignored my Facebook front page today.  I kinda had to. 
The little imp on my shoulder was whispering "Tell the guy to kill himself and see if life gets better." 
Tell your cousin she's a fucking whore and if she had as many pricks sticking out of her as she had sticking in here, she'd look like a fucking cactus! 
Tell that random idiot to drop out, burn down the house, and sell the kids on eBay!

I'm pretty sure the 'bad voice' must have slipped a roofie to my 'good voice' because he was nowhere to be seen.  And, since I do draw the line at arson... I decided no facebook.  Which improved my mood remarkably.

Mood #2 - Spiteful

This, I blame mostly on genetics.  Curing the disease I call 'relatives' is something I'd really like to see our government put more research into. 

It's not really that they bother me... I've been 'disowned' as the 'bad seed' (I'm sure that's what they'd say)... so thankfully, I've at least found a treatment for the symptoms.  Unfortunately, the simple fact that I do have this disease starts to get to me sometimes.  I mean, these jackwads sit in their own little world all happy-go-fucky content. 

While I'm usually a 'do unto others' type of girl... I have moments where I'd love nothing more than to see the whole lot of them rotting of dysentery and consumption.  I try to be a compassionate person who can let by-gones be by-gones... but I really can't find even the most remote shred of humanity towards them.

Anyway... you get the picture.  I listened to some hate-mongering music on YouTube and got that funk out of my system.

Mood #3 - Solemn

Or nostalgic, or reminiscent, or just a bit sad.  I wanted this day to pass without any big fanfare.  Just one more day to think of him with a smile and cherish the time we had.  But of course, it really couldn't.  You can't have a life-altering loss and not remember the exact day... the exact time...

But, I refuse to let any day be a day of mourning.  It's just not in my nature.  (Funny how a negative, pessimistic teenager can turn into this philosophical optimist... I think they recalled my serial number and Mom forgot to get a refund).  So instead, I finally got my favorite pictures of Dad scanned to my computer.  And I put them together in a memorial video.

Now, before you watch it... please get The Queen some tissues because she's a total glutton for punishment and will watch it and bawl and love it and still bawl.

But seriously... there's something very important for you to know.  It could be the difference between life and death.

You very well might want to consider having earplugs handy...
or at least locate the mute button to your speakers... because...

...well...

...it's me singing...

And while I do not think I'd make the Blooper episode on Idol... it is possible that the sound of my voice might cause a severe aneurysm.  

Or since you never know what kind of trolls might visit you might like my voice and hate the song... or you might not like the echo... or you might hate that there's some 'noise'... or you just might be a dick who wants to pick apart the rhythm, tempo, or random typos...

In any case... I'm warning you.  The video contains quotes.  It contains pictures.  It contains me singing.  I am not a professional singer.  I have never had a single singing lesson in my life.  And I didn't sing it for you so if you don't like it you can stuff it.

(was that a bit of Mood #1 popping back?... oh well... you've been warned)

So without further ado...

I give you an auditory assault...

And Mood #4 - Content

Sexy Pink Monkey Panties!!

Did your Mom ever tell you to wear clean underwear in case you were in an accident?  Frankly, I call 'BULLSHIT' on that one because you can bet if I was in a serious accident... my underwear wouldn't make it out clean regardless of how they started.

What Mom should have said was 'clean out your purse in case you're in an accident'!  Those of you who are currently scratching your heads trying to figure out what I'm talking about are the same ones who walk around with a 5 millimeter thick purse in which they've neatly packed every credit card, store card, rewards card, the checkbook, and a lipstick.  You also never forget your purse in the car in 104 degree heat (if you did, we'd all know by the lipstick stains on the checks you write).

Unfortunately, most women have been denied the purse organizing genetics.  And while I rarely carry a purse (I'm a credit card and a $20 in the bra type of girl!)... there are occasions when I feel the need.  Not carrying a purse often means it doesn't really get cleaned out often.  I have a dozen or more wonderful purses (including a 'spy' bag and a big bag perfect for smuggling small children across state lines) and whenever I organize my closet space I find the damnedest things!  There's always the exciting jackpot of money you stashed in a pocket, or a great eye shadow you'd forgotten about... but it gets me wondering what the EMS would find in my purse if I was ever in an accident.

Today the answer was...

1. A cigarette lighter
2. 3D movie glasses... AND...
3. A pair of sexy pink monkey panties (size T4)

So what's in your purse/wallet/fanny pack?...

Oh, and GUYS... don't think you're off the hook.  Remember condoms have expiration dates... if the one in your wallet has expired they'll know your sex life sucks!

Chasin' Bulls

For those of you who don't know... before I became a self-proclaimed PRINCESS!!  I was a rancher's daughter.  Let me rephrase that...   I was a rancher's ONLY daughter!

Now being the ONLY daughter of an 'old fashioned' rawhide comes with it's perks.  When most girls were getting fluffy rabbits or chocolate eggs for Easter... I got a horse!  And I'm not talking a 'put on your tiara and ride side-saddle' PONY... I'm talking a neurotic, rodeo-clown killing Appaloosa!!  Yes... I was a bit spoiled.

But being the ONLY daughter... and ONLY child living at home... comes with a few drawbacks.

I've had many years to think about my childhood and I don't think he spoiled me because I was his sweet little girl.  The more I think about it... the more I believe he was spoiling me to distract me from the near death experiences I encountered as a rancher's daughter.

Case in point...

We had a young bull that suddenly had a mental breakdown.  He refused to stay in any pasture that you put him in.  It didn't matter if it was 50 square miles of free range... he wanted to be somewhere else.  To make matters worse, he was too lazy to jump a fence.  Instead, the bovine reject simply turned his head, pressed his horns against the wires, and pushed until the fence gave out!  Imagine all five strings on a guitar snapping at once... thank you very much, now we'll be rewiring ten posts worth of fencing in 110 degree heat.  ASSHOLE!!

The first attempt to corral this dysfunctional beast resulted in a twisted sheet of metal fence panel and a shredded log fence... and my Dad was instantly pissed off!

QUICK FACTS:

1. Most of you are probably under the impression that Nebraska is as flat and treeless as a pancake... but that is not the case in the southwestern corner of the state.  This part of the state has enough canyons to hide a body, hills too steep to walk up, and the cedar trees outnumber both man and livestock 10 to 1. 
2. It is impossible to walk, ride a horse, or drive a vehicle into a patch of cedar trees.  The TREES always win! 

Ironically, a rouge bull can slip right through the cedar trees where he will camp out and hide with his hooves in his ears and his tongue sticking out yelling 'nah nah nah nah boo boo... can't catch me!!'  And that my friends is exactly what this bull planned to do.

So what is a rancher to do but go totally gangster on his ass!!  That's right... to hell with those Eastside, Westside, Blood, Crypt pussies... Hell hath no fury like a pissed off cowboy!

DISCLAIMER: If you're a PETA fanatic, you should stop reading now and go listen to some Melissa Etheridge song!  This was NOT animal cruelty... this was an obvious attempt to kill me!!  Don't you dare sit there and go, "Awww, that poor bull!" because it was MY LIFE at stake... the bull was never in serious danger!!!

In an instant my father comes up with his ingenious plan (aka premeditated attempt on my life).  He jumps in the one-ton pickup and tosses me on the back of the flat bed with a loaded shotgun...

...did you get that?...

...a loaded shotgun, on the back of a flatbed pickup...

...did I mention I'm like 14?...

...and it's loaded...

...oh!... and I weighed like 90 pounds soaking wet...

...are you getting the picture?...

AND OFF WE GO!!!

Barreling through the pasture at 110 miles an hour chasing this super sonic beast on a beeline for the trees. (Hang onto your underwear!!!) 

Image Copyright 2010 - Princess PWT

Through a creek...

over a log...

through a broken fence...

over a two foot deep trench...

all like we're qualifying for a NASCAR race! 

Every two minutes we stop (kinda),

Dad jumps out (by that I mean he has the door open with one foot on the gas and one on the running boards!),

I toss him the shotgun,

BOOM! BANG! BOOM! 

And the bull runs out of the trees headed for the next 'safe haven'. 

Dad passes the shotgun back to me...

AND OFF WE GO!!

Over a cow...

under a windmill...

through a pond...

over what might have been a harrow...

REPEAT THE PREVIOUS INCIDENT...

CONTINUE REPEATING THE PROCESS UNTIL YOU LOSE COUNT...

I have no idea how long this whole escapade lasted.  But in the end, we got the bull home (you could have strained potatoes with his blood soaked hide) and into a trailer where he was promptly shipped off.  I'm sure they had to run a strong magnet over him to get all the lead out of his ass, but he later returned in neatly wrapped steak-flavored packages just as we requested. 

As for my 'happy ending'... Being the ONLY daughter of a rancher also means you've gotta be tough enough to run with the boys.  So you can bet when Dad brought the truck to a tire-smoking halt in the front yard,  I jumped off the back of the truck with a big ol' grin yelling, "That was AWESOME!!!"

Being a girl on a cattle ranch is a lot like trying to show off at a bar. 

You've gotta walk away unassisted and smiling because...

IT'S ALL ABOUT THE PRIDE BABY!!!

Welcome to Walmart...

Everyone has had a day that leads to an unplanned trip to Walmart.  You know the day...

The dog broke his collar, the husband is coming home from a long business trip and you're out of chocolate syrup.

Not thinking, you rush through the store grabbing the items you need... only to find yourself standing at the back of the line holding a leather collar, a box of Trojans and a bottle of chocolate syrup. About halfway to the register it hits you!! "OMG! I look like a total sex freak!!"

Now what?  Do you scramble around looking for the half-stoned sorority girl who is too blond to connect the dots?  Do you rush to the nearest isle and buy $50 worth of saltines and paper towels in the hopes to hide the awkward scenario?  Or do you suck it up, put a devious smile on your face and head to the register proud of your deceptive innuendo?

If you're like me... you not only pull off the ruse... you spend the entire 40 minute drive home contemplating other dubious combinations.

I'm not talking about the normal Tampax + Midol + granny panties combo.  That's just too real.  And while the cashier might be slightly tickled and immaturely giggle about it afterwards... there's really no shock factor there.  It's just a fact of life.

I'm talking about something that will really have them talking in the break room...

Like KY jelly, Duct tape, and a Plan-B pill!!

Don't forget to wink at the cashier.

Better yet...

A pregnancy test, wire coat hangers, and Extra-Strength Tylenol!

Or if you're more of a devious sort

A butcher knife, Woolite stain remover, and a large rug. 

Even better if you pretend to be having a disgruntled conversation on the phone.  Include the phrases, "I caught him with that bitch again!", "no I will not calm down," and "I'm going to kill him this time!"

Got some home repairs to take care of?  Try this combination...

Metal pipes, nails, and dry ice. 

Add a little flair by mumbling to yourself about nonsense.  Talk to the invisible man in your pocket.  And look over your shoulder suspiciously... often.

Planning a trip to Colorado?  This is a bit more subtle, but I'm sure you can make it work for you...

Ski mask, large purse, and a U.S. Atlas. 

Throw in some hair dye for an extra bonus.  Got kids with you?  Tell them, "Remember, my name is Jane and yours is Susan now!"

Now I know I've got some of your mischievous minds working overtime.  Give me your ideas... try to limit yourself to 3 items available in Walmart.  Oh... and if you are daring enough to attempt any of these combinations... I'm not providing bail money!!

POETS Society (UPDATED)

If you've already read this post...
SCROLL DOWN FOR UPDATE...

If not... feel free to read about the POETS Society... but make sure you get to the end so you can grab the button... or at least marvel at what Photobucket deemed unfit for your viewing pleasure!!

It's the weekend. 

I'm in no mood to entertain you whores with my awesome blogmatism. 

Therefore, I'm reinstating

the POETS Society

on a whole new day

(because I'm so NOT competing with CB's Fucked Up Friday Follow!)

So if you're just not in the mood...

feel free to join the POETS Society!!

Now grab a drink and enjoy the rest of your weekend!

<a href="http://pleaseweartiara.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="POETS Society" src="http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i69/elocin80/PWT/poets.jpg" width="150" /></a>

UPDATE
WELL FUCK ME!!!
You've gotta be kidding me.  I have to look at these bullshit bumper stickers almost every day of the week when I'm following behind some corn-fed hillbilly mother fucker who thinks there Chevy is better than their neighbor's Ford!
But PHOTOBUCKET had a sudden assfuckism and decided to block my button.
Therefore... you'll have to grab the button the old fashioned way.  Right click, save to your computer and insert it in your blog.  Or maybe you're smart enough to know some other ingenious way... but I sure hope you take the time to join the POETS Society.

HERE'S the FUCKING button that FUCKBUCKET says violates their terms.
ASSHOLES ANYWAY!!

What the Fuckover Again?

Never been known to start a war.  But I'll be happy to help finish one.

Do people seriously not have enough problems in the real world that they have to stir up drama in Blogland?
Since this BULLSHIT started at least 2 bloggers have decided to cut back/quit blogging until it blows over...
several others are all bent out of shape...
and still others are downright PISSED OFF!
WTF?!?!?!

It's a simple thing...
Don't like it? 
DON'T READ IT! 
Messed up and read it but didn't like it? 
WALK AWAY!
Not rocket science people!!!

So... to anyone out there who feels the need to talk shit, bash, otherwise be a nasty bitch to my family...
THIS SONGS FOR YOU!!!

And to all of the followers and readers who love The Royal Family (or at least some of us)...
Just think of someone you really fucking hate and listen to the song anyway!!!

Oh yeah... I oughta warn you... EXPLICIT FUCKING LYRICS (like you expected anything less!)

What the Fuckover?

Here's what I know...

1. CB has taken the 'higher road'.  By that I mean she's probably OD'ing on Xanex while she talks to the flying purple monkeys.
2. The Queen is sitting naked in a lawn chair with a tall gin and tonic, talking to the yellow polka-dotted elephant on the picnic table.
3. I'm tired and sweaty after a long days work that did NOT include sex, drugs, or rock-n-roll!

Being the only member of the royal family that manages to stay sober on a regular basis... I have to clean up this fucking mess!

So if you happen to be the dumbass who got those women all riled up... let me warn you...

1. You can come thump your Bible at me.  I'll thump it right back across the side of your head.
2. You're welcome to criticize my vulgarity.  But if you're offended by "shut up cunt nugget" then you can bet I've got a few catch phrases that will leave you wetting your Barbie panties.
3. Feel free to tell me I'm being nasty.  I don't mind... your boyfriend likes it that way!

I don't start online battles.  I'm the one that usually rolls my eyes and walks away.  But if the Royal Family gets their thongs twisted in knots, I'm the one who has to find designated drivers (or bail money) in 3 different cities!

I haven't had a good catfight since Easter you know.  And you should know my interventions don't always go as planned.  Last time, I tried to jump to the defense of a poor girl who got herself cornered by The Queen and some of my friends... she just wouldn't back down.  I'm all for defending anyone who finds themselves cornered by a rabid pack of hyenas... but if you climb the six foot safety wall, slip through the bars of the secondary fence, and jump over the moat to pet the 'puppies', I'm gonna video tape while they eat your screaming ass!  Needless to say, the last girl tucked her tail between her tits and slinked away whimpering.

So PLEASE!  For the love of everything not nailed down (and anything they haven't drank yet)... just turn around and walk away if you don't like their attitudes, blogs, tits, or comments.

And to anyone who has a sense of humor and isn't out to start some childish Battle of the Blogs!  Grab something to drink, something to smoke, and go enjoy some foul-mouthed fun reading some of CB's Friday Followers.



Today's words of wisdom:
If you're gonna poke something with a stick... make sure it doesn't have sharp teeth!!!!

Getting My Way!

I am the senior English-speaking housekeeper at our hotel which means the chick who trained me finally quit to go to college!  For this reason, I expect everyone to kiss my ass with a smile be nice to me. 

1. As a guest, you should worship me because I know the difference between, "May I have clean towels" and "Please rape me with a mop handle!"
2. As a fellow-employee, you should respect me because I can talk shit to the boss about you... right in front of you!
3. As a boss, you should pamper me because if I quit you're stuck training all the new recruits.

And because I am both irreplaceable and slightly psychotic... I usually get all of the above.  So while you may sit in your cushy desk chair scoffing at my Poor White Trash job... keep in mind while the boss is piling more papers on your desk that she doesn't have time to do... my boss gives me everything I want!

Want a day off?
You put in a request 2 weeks in advance and hope it doesn't get lost in your bosses inbox. 
I let my boss know a Friday in advance.

Need to leave early?
You bust your ass to get all your work done ahead of time, only to have your boss give you twice as much next week. 
I remind my boss that Prince Charming makes way more than me so his job takes priority.

Have a problem with an employee?
You submit a complaint in writing to your PR rep who requests you get a psych eval since the other employee is her drinking buddy. 
I let the boss know I'm *this close* to going postal on someone.

Want pizza for lunch?
You place an order only to have the boss desperately need your help over the lunch hour.  By the time you get to the pizza, your co-workers have downed 7 slices, leaving you with a puny cold slice and raging indigestion! 
I simply bribe the boss with her weakness... 'cream-cheese pizza'.

So while I'm usually against taking a lunch on Sunday because it's the busiest day of the week.  The boss and I have agreed it's the perfect moment to pig out on some tasty, creamy, pizzaliciousness.  It'll put me behind 45 minutes of work, but it'll so be worth it!

5 Things for Fucked Up Friday!

1. I would totally FUCK someone for a large Pizza Hut Supreme pizza!  Thankfully, they sell them for $10, ready in 15 minutes, so I didn't have to.  But I will totally FUCK YOU UP if you think about touching MY PIZZA!

2. I told the boss I was getting FUCKING pissed at her assistant today.  I did it without calling the assistant a total FUCKING bitch.  Though I do believe I mentioned she's going to make me FUCKING go postal on her if she doesn't stop.

3. What the FUCK is up with the lifesaver "SAVE LIVES" flag that they fly on the dam over the lake?  It's not up there every day!!  It's only flying on random days.  Not even just on days when the waves might FUCK you up.  Not just on weekends when every FUCKING idiot is in a boat.  There's no FUCKING pattern to it.  It's really starting to bug me.  And further more... shouldn't you be flying it at the FUCKING boat ramps instead of the spillway tubes?  Because I'm really certain if a person gets sucked through the FUCKING dam, it's not going to matter if they were wearing a FUCKING jacket.  Or maybe I've got this whole FUCKING thing messed up.  Maybe I'm supposed to be wearing my life jacket when I drive across the dam.

4. Why the FUCK can't a woman puke without everyone thinking they're FUCKING pregnant?  I had a FUCKING stomach bug on Wednesday so I had to call in sick to work (from the FUCKING parking lot I just FUCKING puked all over).  Since then, at least 3 people have asked, "Are you pregnant?"  I don't FUCKING know assholes!  I do FUCK so it's always a possibility, but I'd really like to be the first to FUCKING know (if you don't FUCKING mind).  Was that morning sickness?  FUCK NO!  For anyone who dares to ask, "Are you sure?"  Let me clarify.  'Morning sickness' is an all day queeziness accompanied by instantaneous vomitting when someone mentions the word 'saltine'.  A 'Stomach Bug' is a sick feeling accompanied by stomach cramps which can be cured by vomitting, shitting, and sleeping until it FUCKING passes.

5. How the FUCK did my dream child go from sleeping peacefully until noon to waking the FUCK up at the ass crack of FUCK ME every FUCKING morning?  And while I'm at it... why the FUCK can she sleep through her father's entire shower only to wake up at the sound of me tiptoeing upstairs because I forgot a pair of socks?!  I swear she is not my FUCKING kid!

I think that oughta be enough "FUCKS" to qualify me for CB's Friday Follow.  And if she isn't FUCKING satisfied with it, it's no skin off my FUCKING back.

HAVE A GREAT FUCKING WEEKEND!

We're having a 10th of July celebration this weekend!  And in case that confuses you... every town in a 50 mile radius lit off fireworks on the 4th of July weekend.  A piss-puddle town like this doesn't stand a chance of competing for attention.  So we're having a craft fair, pot luck dinner, and fireworks tomorrow.  While most places have already banned blowing your fingers off shooting off the 'BOOM BOOMS' we'll be shooting ours off at dusk (and if you're nice to us, we'll try to miss your roof!)

Facebook Might Be the Death of Me

I am well aware that many of you have already discovered the horrors of facebook.

And while I have found myself sucked to the dark side of FB several times, I always manage to find my way out of there with little more than scrapes.  In the past year, I've eliminated all but a couple games that I play only when absolutely bored to pieces.

I realize that for some people, Facebook can become a horrible addiction.  Unfortunately, for me, it is the only way to keep in touch with much of my family, friends, and former students.  It is a necessary evil in my life... much like text messaging.  But I have learned to keep the mind-numbing demons at bay and actually find it harder to step away from my blog than facebook.

I'm sure you're wondering how it could possibly become the death of me, when I've managed to keep a level-headed balance between facebook and real life.  I'll tell you...

(I'm so never going to hear the end of this one... it's that good!)

I was searching for an old friend to see if she had a facebook account.  Having lost track of her over the years, I did the only logical thing and checked out the high school she graduated from.  My search result immediately revealed a name I recognized...... an old boyfriend!  (and by boyfriend, I mean some guy I kissed so he'd buy my cigarettes).

Curiosity killed the cat so I clicked his page to see if I'd made a huge mistake.  I had to know if not going to second base had cost me the title of 'Millionaire's Wife'.

Oh My Holy Fucking Burn My Eyes Out and Shoot Me In the Head!!!! 

What I witnessed was truly horrifying!

This guy makes Keith Richards look fuckable!  And I'm not even exaggerating here!  Take Keith Richards, bake him in the desert for about 20 years, add tattoos from the wrists to the ears, stick about 14 hideous piercings in him, rotten his teeth and then stand him in front of a sandblaster for a week... you might come close to the zombie hideousness that I saw!

Holy fucking shit!!

This guy is only 6 years older than me and he looks older than my Dad!  I'd say life has been unkind to him, but in truth... it looks a lot like he kicked life's ass and flipped it a bird.  I've seen better looking corpses!!

I'm pretty sure that I puked in my mouth.  I realize that all I did was kiss this guy (thank fucking god for that!).  And I realize that it was 14 years ago.  But never in my life have I had such a strong desire to brush my teeth with Borax and gargle Lysol!  Not to mention the fact that I'm certain a little Clorox in the eyes would have been less painful!

My sex drive is officially shot for the next decade or so!  CB's gonna have to find someone else to pick up the slack for The Queen's Gin fund!

So, while you are off playing Farmville, CafeWorld, and PotFarm on Facebook.  I'll be filing a lawsuit for punitive damages.  No doubt they'll take one look at that picture and settle out of court!

Rumor Mongering Whores!

Okay, it seems a couple of stupid whores (aka The Royal Family) are spreading rumors about me over at The Queen's place.  It seems a bitch can't go a week without blogging (actually they started bitching a couple days ago... couldn't even give me a week!).  So today, I'll take a brief moment to clear up their lies!

First... The Prom Cleanup commitee would like to flip you off for being such whores!  Why haven't I been around for a week?  The motel in the red-light district has been a mess!  I'm training these new whores and they can't seem to understand that you don't clean the rooms with a toothbrush (unless the toothbrush belongs to the guest!).  Seriously!  I'm in these rooms every day and no amount of scrubbing is going to get the sperm stain off the ceiling!  Just do what you can and move along so we can be done for the day!!

Second... let me explain that yes... I was the 'practice child'. The Queen totally fucked me up. So of course, anytime CB whines her whorish little whimper, The Queen comes running. Why? Because she learned if you don't they grow up to be like me and never listen to their Mom. CB... bow down and thank me for giving you a loving and doting mother!


Third... and might I add most importantly... I did not run off with the hairlip john!  HAHAHA!  Very fucking funny bitches!  Slipping roofies to your family is all fun and games until someone wakes up with a hideous freak!  Puts a whole new meaning to 'coyote ugly'!  But don't worry... I will have my revenge so you better watch your backs the next time you head out to turn a few tricks.  Oh... and you probably shouldn't put your drink down at the party if I'm invited!
 
So in case you're a nosey posey who insists on knowing exactly where I've been... Someone has to put a roof over the palace brothel... and I'm sure as hell not gonna break a nail doing it.  So I've been busy making sure that Prince Charming is pleased!  Yeah!  You asked for that!  Hope you have nightmares for weeks!
 
So between working at the motel, and working at home, and the #1 job of teaching a 3-year-old to be a bad influence on society... I've been busy!  What's your excuse?  Oprah and bon bons?  Fuck off!
 
Now if you don't mind... I have nothing interesting, exciting, or even remotely worth pondering... why?
 

Because...

today... I have witnessed the gateway to HELL! 

It is by far the most torturing,

annoying,

pestering,

mind-numbing form of

horrific

insanity

that could possibly exist...

 

A 3-year-old

singing

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star

at the top of her lungs for

3 hours!!!

 
So I'm gonna cut this short and take her outside in the hopes that she'll go chase cars or something!!
 
If you've got a problem with that, I'll be happy to send her to your house and I'll put on the hot pants to bring in the money!

While I'm out, make sure to head over to CB's Friday Follow... (which totally requires that you love cussing whores)... and let her know she has far too much time on her hands and should definetly cut me some slack!