Saturday, September 17, 2011

Guns N' Roses - guitar solo by DJ Ashba - Live In Osaka, Japan 12/16/09

Another Reason You Don't Want Kids

You don't want kids because they're a total pain in the ass, people.  If you have some already, find someone to give them away to.  If you don't have kids, borrow the kids I just mentioned- it's a win-win.

Recently my three year old has decided that before every diaper change, he is going to take off running around the house while I frantically chase after him, diapers and wipes in hand, until I finally corner him in some random room, usually under somebody's bed.  Then I drag him out, laughing like a deranged hyena (him, not me.  Just wanted to clarify.) while he karate kicks the shit out of me until I get the diaper changed.  That's just for a diaper with pee pee in it.  If it's poop, it's worse.  Today, my friends, he has the trots. 

If you're not familiar with the term 'diaper blow out', you don't want to be.  But just in the interest of convincing you how much you really, truly do NOT want children, I'm going to tell you.  It's when diarrhea leaks out of their diaper...everywhere.  They happen in Wal-Mart, church, family vacations, the Myer's Duren Harley Store in Tulsa, Ok (it happened 6 years ago- I guarantee they still remember it.  It had leaked up Colin's back and onto Frank.  Frank had to wash his hands so I'll give you one guess who had to handle the unholy mess in the bathroom)

Corbin had a diaper blow out this evening, but I'm no amateur-  I sneak the diaper rash cream onto a finger, cleverly hiding it behind the diaper and box of wipes and proceed to chase him around the house.  The first thing I did was run head first into the open cabinet (forgot to close it while trying to hide diaper rash cream- he HATES it) and bust my forehead open.  Now I'm wiping blood from my eyes as I try to locate the little shit before he gets...well, shit, all over the entire house.  When I finally wrestled him to the ground and finished he looked at me and said "Mommy! You're hurt!  I kiss your forehead!"  I'm a big softie folks, so I leaned in for the sweet kiss.  He took a closer look and patted me on the head saying "You gross. I give you hug instead."

Fuck it.  I'm hitting the rum early tonight, folks!

Friday, September 16, 2011

What Pregnancy and Aging do to Men's Bodies...

I sooo did not forget about men's bodies when I wrote my post about post pregnancy vaginas- I was just saving it.  Because it totally deserves a post of its very own. 

It's a widely known fact that men gain weight while their wives are pregnant.  It just happens.  Wife wants to eat two fast food breakfasts in a row (I couldn't help it- McDonald's and Chick Fil A have AWESOME breakfasts) and hubby goes along to drive because wife needs to eat the first breakfast before they get the second because if she doesn't, she'll either puke all over God and everybody or kill God and everybody.  He ends up eating two fast food breakfasts, too.

But what is NOT a widely known fact is that God puts men and women on equal footing when it comes to unattractive aging genitals:  they're called old man testicles.  Please feel free to Google them.

Piggy D Tour Pack from Oklahoma ... headed my way! No way!  I just ordered it this week and it's already on the way to my sweet little hands...I think that's even faster than the poster I ordered from Dj Ashba, but we'll see how the postal service performs. 
The tour pack is courtesy of my darling hubby who said "For the love of God, you're going to keep asking me about it over and over until I give in and say 'yes' aren't you?" which I took to mean "Order it today!  Put it on the credit card!  You're so pretty and I think you may have lost weight!" (Because that is how you translate husband talk and it isn't  called 'fudging' it's called 'marriage' or as I like to refer to it 'happy wife, happy life.'  Stay tuned.  I know loads of shit about marriage.)
The tour pack contains a shirt he wore onstage in the Oklahoma show (I'm probably almost 100% sure it's the one he was wearing when we had 'our moment'.) 
1 Set of Used Bass Strings From The Show
2 PD Limited Edition Guitar Picks
1 Personalized Signed 8x10 of Piggy D...naked (ok, I'm sure he's fully clothed. Just checking to see if you're listening)
1 Sticker
1 "Skunky D." Plush Toy with button
1 Key chain
1 Button Set (3)
1 Pocket Mirror

I asked the wonderfully helpful Brie at Black Victory to have him sign the picture to "Christine, the most beautiful woman in the world"  or "Christine, I can't believe you married Frank when you could have had me" or the most likely of choices, "Christine."  Yeah.  I know.  I'm extremely positive it will be made out to "Christine" and I'm ok with that.  I'm also extremely positive that the next time he's in town that the big burly security dudes will be made aware of 'a possible security threat who goes by the name "Christine."  There may be some kind of restraining order, too, I don't know but I couldn't give a shit because the tour pack is on its way to me right this very second. 

Now if only all of my musician friends (my real  friends, not the ones who are imaginary) would hurry up and send me the shit they pinky promised to send.  You know who you are.  Slackers!

Then I'll have to get busy painting and hanging all of my stuff up and then I'll have to start writing better stuff like I promised.  Fuck.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Dj Ashba and Ashba Swag

Those of you 'in the know' know that Dj Ashba treats his fans well- he is AWESOME!!!! I was recently beyond happy to discover that the people who work with him at Ashba Swag are just as awesome.  You see, I wanted a poster of Dj for my office (if you don't know who he is, this is one of those times you should totally go Google him-  gorgeous.  Wait- gorgeous times a zillion.  I don't care that a zillion isn't a real number either) But what's the point unless it's signed to little ole me??  So, I emailed his office- expecting the brushoff, to be perfectly honest- and ya know what happened instead?  After I gave Shannon my sob story about writing a silly blog about my crushes on rock stars and such and after explaining how much I NEEDED my poster personalized...she made it happen.  Super fast, too.  I'm going to post a picture of it later, because it's magnificent!  I'll love Shannon forever and I would bake her cookies, or send her flowers if that wouldn't appear slightly 'overzealous' (in other words, perhaps slightly psycho) on my part.  I told her to consider herself hugged bunches and I think that was crazy just the right amount.

Anyway, how many times do you hear of rock stars (or their staff) going out of their way to make someone happy??  Their customer service gets an A+++ from me!

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Vaginas and Grenades and Flowers

"So, I had to move my balls out of the way so I could pee this morning..." one of my oldest and dearest friends said to me during one of our daily phone conversations.  You see, my dear friend was eleventy hundred months pregnant and in case you didn't know, the anatomy 'down there'...changes.  (changes is the nicest most politest word I could think of.  I'm sorry. If you've ever had a baby, you know what I'm talking about.  If you haven't, please stop reading NOW.)

This is definitely one of the things pregnancy books don't properly prepare you for.  The way everything below the belt (and above for that matter, but we'll discuss that later) suddenly turns into a foreign country- with mountains and valleys and rivers.  It isn't even the same color. None of it looks the teeniest bit vaguely familiar. 

I know what the books say- they describe female genitalia like a flower.  Which is bullshit  because nobody but a crazy person would pay money for a flower that looks like it's been deprived of sunshine and water and then transported in an un-air conditioned van through the desert.

I've also heard labor described as 'the gradual opening of the flower'.  This is even funnier.  Ask any woman who has experienced pregnancy if labor and delivery felt like their 'flower opening' and they'll laugh so hard they'll mom pee (which is something else they don't tell you.  After you have a baby, you pee your pants.  Occasionally.) 

I like to think of it like inflating a balloon, then deflating it.  Then inflating it. And deflating it.  As many times as you have children.  Now imagine a sad basset hound.  Or maybe a Shar Pei that's been yo yo dieting for a year or two.  Now imagine that in 'vagina terms' and you'll know what it means.  It's scary fucking shit.

I called my Gynecologist once to ask about vaginal reconstruction surgery and the best way I could explain it was 'the meat's just fallin' out of the taco.'  The nurse laughed and then said "I know.  I don't know what the hell happens down there after you have a baby."  I agreed and said "It's like a grenade went off or something."  The only thing that kept me from getting the surgery was the fact that it means no sex for 6 weeks even by yourself, which is terrible.  Plus there was a hefty price tag attached to that surgery- upwards of $5,000.  I have other, more visible things that need to be fixed, personally.

In the 70's (or so I've been told- I wasn't even born then.  Ahem) The big movement was feminism and the big deal was to examine 'your business' with a hand mirror.  Apparently all across America millions of women squatted over hand mirrors looking at their girlie parts.  I have a visual of the squatting lasting 10 seconds before the laughter took over and they fell on said hand mirror.  Which makes me think there might be some missing hand mirrors from around that time.  Anyway, vaginas are not beautiful after you have children and that's why God gave you HAIR there, for God's sake.