Please be drunk when you read this or you won’t think it’s funny at all. Or maybe it is funny, and I’m just in a really bad mood.

August 5, 2011

Yeah, I haven’t blogged in a while. I even promised, at the request of Carmen of A Life Less Ordinary and Delana of I’ll Be Your Water to put a post up yesterday, but I had a headache and didn’t do it. So sue me.

I have no excuse for not blogging except the usual I’m lazy, and also that I’ve been feeling inexplicably happy lately, even though I’m still unemployed and ever closer to being evicted from my loft. When I don’t have anything to bitch and moan about, I tend to not write as much. I guess I need lots of angst to be creative. Like Van Gogh. Or not. Yeah, not at all, actually, because Van Gogh was a fucking genius and I am a barely functioning moron on my best days.

Sooooo. . . I shall capitalize on the pissing and moaning of another, namely my friend Alice, who, with husband Shrek and Hellbaby, is in the process of moving in with her meth-head ex-con mother-in-law, and none of that is exaggerated one bit. She is doing this despite my advising against it, and despite that everything I’ve ever advised her not to do and she did anyway she ended up regretting. I mean, this is the woman for whom she has the ringtone “The Imperial March” from Star Wars dedicated. The same woman she finally had to break down and actually talk to, because, as she explained, “I just talked to MIL. But only because she sent me a text accusing me of ignoring her calls. So I had to answer that one. She is so on to me.”

The following is a text message conversation between Alice and me from last Friday. Anywhere that is not in italics or attributed to me are her words, because I’m too lazy to copy and paste Alice: a hundred and two times.

I’m still chilling at my house. . . Taking Shrek one million years to load trailer.

Instead of coming over and walking with me as she usually does, Alice stupidly decided to go with her husband to take a load of their belongings to his mother’s.

And now I remember why we walk. . .

Someone save me from this fussers!

Anyone who follows the Adventures of Hellbaby on the Twitter knows that she tends to become particularly hellish between the hours of 5 and 7 PM. Plopping her ass in the stroller and taking her for a walk has been the best way to deal with her cranky butt we have discovered so far.

Quick, I need a baby-sized hamster wheel.

Jesus. He’s not even back with the fucking tail light yet. This trip is so not happening. Another epic fail!

When I figure out how to get it off my phone, I have an epic twenty minute rant recorded about how people who pull trailers that do not have taillights have a special circle of Hell reserved just for them. Alice has very definite opinions about this. And then she found out the trailer her husband was using to move their stuff had a broken taillight. Not good.

I could be walking, damn him!

ME: Are you fucking kidding me? I can hear Husband changing channels and he apparently can’t hear me knocking on the door!

I had gone to the store and was out in the hall loaded down with groceries. I can text/tweet with arms full of produce and bottled water, but not fish my keys out and unlock the door. And my husband is deaf. Apparently.

He sucks.

Ogre still has to come home and install tail light. Dumbass.

Beat on the door.

Where’s a shank when you need one?

Good god. We could have walked and been back.

Quick—take the batteries outta the remote! He’ll die a quick death.

Me:  That’s true. And they wouldn’t be able to pin a thing on me.

Nope. Autopsy: cause of death undetermined. And insurance company won’t hassle ya ’cause y’all don’t have any.

Kill me NOW. I forgot how I hate the fussy hours.

WTF was I thinking?

I just got head butted. It’s official—god knows me and hates me.

Me:  Not true. God hates us all.

Ohhhhh. That makes total sense. He is so fucking with us.

And after ALL THAT the trailer light still doesn’t work!

Shrek keeps saying, “It’s just one light!”

Um, hello, trailers only have two­–so that’s half the lights. Epic fail.

And I’m the car pulling the one-light trailer.

Kill me. Good excuse not to work this weekend.

So while I’m in school, I should start scoping out all the hot doctors, right? For hubby #2.

OMG my sister is so full of SHIT. See her Facebook. It’s called “how about the year your kid was in daycare and you stayed home and did nothing?”

You shank anybody yet? I need a laugh.

Me:  Not yet. You’re killing me. You would be the biggest hit on Twitter. Taking a shower and commencing wine consumption. Anything could happen after that.

K. Dance, monkey, dance. And by dance I mean tweet. And the other dance I mean drink.

I need your fucking shank. Quick!

After being assured of a time frame, we’re already making a fucking unscheduled stop. And we’re not even to his momma’s yet.

God, if only I could drive a stick.

He would so be getting left on the side of the road.

Great. Sticks roll away when in neutral?! WTF?! So now no AC.

Yes, Alice has no understanding of how manual transmission works AT ALL.

Why, god, why does anyone drive a stick? And what demon keeps making them? Bullshit. Add that to my circle of hell list.


Oh, right. The goddamn sun.

We stopped at Burger King. Because he’s hungry.

Don’t mind us. Wife and baby will cook in the car.

And now we’re arguing about whether this cup will or will not spill in his goddamn cup holder.

Don’t ever get married.


He will read it. Damn him.

Pretty sure he follows me. I have yet to reciprocate. Add that to my list “Shit That Ain’t Happening.”

Me:  BLOCK HIM. He’ll never know the difference.

Also on this list is sex. Apparently.

I could never be a whore. I can’t do it if I hate someone. Damn it. Thank god I didn’t have to live in biblical times. I never woulda made it. Only choices for women were whores or virgins. And just like in whore movies, the virgins get offed first.


*Horror, dang it.

Horror and whore? Really, fuck you, English.

OMG now we’re here. And I’m refusing to get out of the car. Biggest car trip mother fucking mistake ever.

There is dog piss on the carpet here. The NEWLY CLEANED carpet. I am not living here.

Also this.

Ah, grandma clutter.


Also this—Look! A cluttered seating area, THAT NO ONE CAN SIT IN!!!

Oh, god. I think my MIL is pulling up with her cougar/whore cousin. I need a shank! Two shanks!

They weigh a combined 150 pounds.


Me:  Meth.

Ya. Or that.

Me:  Have y’all met the boyfriend yet?

The 26-year-old? No, thank gawd.

Yes, Shrek’s mother is dating a man several years younger than he is. He is surprisingly okay with this.

Okay. We all survived. In the car. Finally. On the way home.

At least you’ve got blog material. You’re welcome.

Oh, and stick cars are for dumb fucking people who wanna make their life unnecessarily difficult.


After reading this over again this morning, it doesn’t seem quite as funny as it did last Friday. But then again, I was drunk last Friday. Maybe I should put an advisory at the beginning of this post? “Please be drunk when you read this or you will not think it’s funny at all.”

Ah, fuck it.

PS Update: Since last Friday, the MIL’s cougar/whore cousin has announced that she (39) is pregnant by her boyfriend (21). According to Alice, “She must have just found out, because she was so drunk Friday.” Ahem. So we would hope. Although, she doesn’t have a driver’s license since she’s had three DUIs in the past six months. . . so maybe not.

This shit is so not funny.

UPDATE 2  Right after I posted this, Alice came over and I recorded more of her angst about the move. Hellbaby happened to be making adorable noises so I got a little distracted.


{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }

Carmen August 5, 2011 at 9:37 am

you fascinate me


Chunky Mama August 5, 2011 at 9:54 am

Alice needs a blog.


Alison@Mama Wants This August 6, 2011 at 12:06 am

I agree, Alice totally needs a blog.


Dude_WaitWhat August 6, 2011 at 5:57 am

I love the Southern accents throughtout this video. Where ya’ll from, anyhow?


Momma Teacher Lady August 9, 2011 at 1:37 pm

Wow. Just wow!


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