Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Whiskey and Fancy's Quotes of the Day
Whiskey: "I afraid to look at the man across from me...his shorts are so short I may see his balls."
Fancy: "It really smells in here like tires and man."
Hot Topics of the Night
Whiskey here...
Let me give you the back story on how horrible this night really was.
#1. I don't even like The Big Blue Babe. I was just feeling generous like I previously stated. I think she's full crap and lies like a Mo-Fo. For example, while at The Wine Cellar, Big Blue brought up Carne Asada's mom, and said, "I don't know guys, I just have this feeling, that Carne Asada's mom is a lesbian. I know she's been married for years and all, but it's like she's fighting her inner-lesbian demons and true self." Back to me...I couldn't even make eye contact because I was afraid that once I did I would just roll my eyes at the stupidity of the accusations.
#2. Hue Jass is a "sore spot" between Big Blue and I. Fancy, being the bleached ass hole that she is, continued to reference Hue the entire night. Every time she would reference him, she would look at me from the corner of her eye with a sly smile. She knew better. That ass hole, that bleached ass hole.
#3. Autism Awareness--this is now Fancy. Having a child on the autism spectrum, I am just interjecting that myself as well as Whiskey are advocates for Autistic children. However, not on a girl's night out. We need away from our children, even the autistic ones. Back to Whiskey...Best part of the night was when Babe mentioned that Paul Bunyan was in counseling and on anti-depressants because he and Babe have self-diagnosed their 18 month old with autism.
#4. Corky Romano--Horton has a dog with every medical problem under the sun. She spends over $500 a month on treatments. I inquired about her dog, not really caring, but trying to include the elephant at the table in the conversation, to which she mentioned that he was not getting any better. I asked her how expensive the treatments were, and she said around $500 a month. I responded with, "WOW!" She then explained that through budget cuts, she is no longer receiving about $1000 a month of income, and would therefore discontinue the treatments on the dog. She wanted to give up on her poochy-woochy. She went on to say she was ready to have him put down. At which point, Fancy piped in and said, "Hey, it's like on Corky Romano when that lady brings in her cat, and says, 'I want you to kill my baby!'" I kicked Fancy under the table and punched her in the boob. She quickly recovered by asking Horton, who is a social worker, how she would diagnose Fancy's personality.
#5. Horton diagnosed Fancy with a borderline personality disorder. I wasn't overly surprised. I've been on the Fancy roller coaster the last several months.
#6. We were also talking about an acquaintance's nephew, whose middle name is Madardo. Yes, Madardo. When Babe heard this, she quickly referenced Madardo with Retardo. I was a little surprised because weren't we just advocating for autism?
I'm going to miss all of these good times with Fancy.
Let me give you the back story on how horrible this night really was.
#1. I don't even like The Big Blue Babe. I was just feeling generous like I previously stated. I think she's full crap and lies like a Mo-Fo. For example, while at The Wine Cellar, Big Blue brought up Carne Asada's mom, and said, "I don't know guys, I just have this feeling, that Carne Asada's mom is a lesbian. I know she's been married for years and all, but it's like she's fighting her inner-lesbian demons and true self." Back to me...I couldn't even make eye contact because I was afraid that once I did I would just roll my eyes at the stupidity of the accusations.
#2. Hue Jass is a "sore spot" between Big Blue and I. Fancy, being the bleached ass hole that she is, continued to reference Hue the entire night. Every time she would reference him, she would look at me from the corner of her eye with a sly smile. She knew better. That ass hole, that bleached ass hole.
#3. Autism Awareness--this is now Fancy. Having a child on the autism spectrum, I am just interjecting that myself as well as Whiskey are advocates for Autistic children. However, not on a girl's night out. We need away from our children, even the autistic ones. Back to Whiskey...Best part of the night was when Babe mentioned that Paul Bunyan was in counseling and on anti-depressants because he and Babe have self-diagnosed their 18 month old with autism.
#4. Corky Romano--Horton has a dog with every medical problem under the sun. She spends over $500 a month on treatments. I inquired about her dog, not really caring, but trying to include the elephant at the table in the conversation, to which she mentioned that he was not getting any better. I asked her how expensive the treatments were, and she said around $500 a month. I responded with, "WOW!" She then explained that through budget cuts, she is no longer receiving about $1000 a month of income, and would therefore discontinue the treatments on the dog. She wanted to give up on her poochy-woochy. She went on to say she was ready to have him put down. At which point, Fancy piped in and said, "Hey, it's like on Corky Romano when that lady brings in her cat, and says, 'I want you to kill my baby!'" I kicked Fancy under the table and punched her in the boob. She quickly recovered by asking Horton, who is a social worker, how she would diagnose Fancy's personality.
#5. Horton diagnosed Fancy with a borderline personality disorder. I wasn't overly surprised. I've been on the Fancy roller coaster the last several months.
#6. We were also talking about an acquaintance's nephew, whose middle name is Madardo. Yes, Madardo. When Babe heard this, she quickly referenced Madardo with Retardo. I was a little surprised because weren't we just advocating for autism?
I'm going to miss all of these good times with Fancy.
I'm Having Tom Selleck's Baby
 |
| Fancy's Pie...cream-filled with lots of nuts! |
Sexually aroused, like all of the cats in Whiskey's neighborhood, Fancy led the gang-bang into Shari's. Thankfully Horton was there saving us a table. Don't know Horton? Don't worry, you will soon...The Lorax post is coming.
**Side Note--Whiskey is really disappointed in us right now. However, that's not stopping her from continuing on with this post.
Upon seating ourselves at Horton's table, we were greeted by our waiter, Cameron, aka Tom Selleck. Tom, with his 12 year old baby face, and 70's porn 'stache, asked us what we wanted to drink. Whiskey, being ever the Diva, asked for a water with a straw. When Tom returned, he had placed a giant, pink straw in Whiskey's water. Fancy, never to be outdone, requested her own giant straw. When he returned to the table, Tom Selleck had two green straws in hand. He creepily smiled at the Sister Wives, and said, "I brought two green straws because I noticed your eyes were green with envy." Suicidal thoughts swept through Whiskey's mind. Was the waiter really that tacky? Meanwhile, this fueled Fancy's ever growing fire, and she began to shameless thrust her boobs in Tom's face, snatching up the green straws in the process. Her nipples acted like tiny hands, almost as if saying, (in a high pitched voice) "damn straight I'm greedy!"
Fancy, ever the cougar, had to know if little Tom Selleck was legal or not. He professed to be 23, to which Fancy replied, "I'm 32. 32, 23, potato, potato, tomato, tomato, our ages are backwards. How cool is that Tom?" To which he responded, "This reminds me of a movie called 23," and with a twitch of his mustache he walked away.
Horton, upon hearing the movie 23, exclaimed, "That movie is about a psycho murderer! Worst movie I ever saw, but seriously creepy he brought it up!"
When Tom came back to the table, Fancy, who had just choked and spit water all over everyone and the table, asked Tom if she looked drunk. Tom gazed lovingly into her beautiful, beautiful eyes, and informed her that her eyes were a little blood shot. Fancy proceeded to inform him, as she did Drew, that we are all sister wives, and that she is 100% sober. Tom then asked her to prove it, to which she exclaimed that we all had buns, and wasn't that proof enough. Tom replied, "I like me some hairy buns!" Fancy quickly replied to that, "Well I like me a good mustache ride, free is optional!"
With his wicked, creepy smile, Tom re-directed the conversation back to what our order would be. Upon hearing that we were in need of dessert, Tom told us there were several options that were cream-filled and full of nuts. This was right up our alley. He then took our orders and left the table.
Meanwhile, in his absence, it turned into Autism Awareness/Advocacy Night at Shari's. Whiskey and Fancy drifted into their own world, discussing Fancy's firm boobs and cheeks. Fancy went around the table asking people to pinch her cheeks. Whiskey offered up Fancy's boobs for the fondling....Horton, couldn't pass up those firm cheeky-monkeys, and had to give them a pinch. Tom returned with water refills, and Whiskey, ever the best friend, asked if Tom wanted to touch Fancy's hard knockers as well. Tom responded, "Maybe when my shift is over." Fancy then retorted with, "I think I want THAT to be my next husband!!!" while pointing directly at Tom. Tom stated, "Yeah, real appealing, you just called me THAT!" and walked away. As Tom was walking away, Whiskey held up her pinky and said, "I bet Tom's wiener is only this big!" Tom turned around and gave her a thumbs up. Whiskey was confused. Did he approve or was it the size of his thumb?
Fancy, with her tiny bladder, went to the bathroom. While she was away, Tom Selleck brought out another piece of pie, free of charge, just for her. When she returned, she winked at him and said, "Thanks! By the way, did you know that fat chicks are good in bed?"
Fast Forward 20 minutes, right before leaving, Whiskey told Fancy she should leave Tom Selleck a note and leave her number. Hastily, Fancy whipped out her pen and began a Harloquen Romance Novel, including her number. She loudly shouted out her number as she wrote it, just for Tom, and then dashed off to the bathroom, for yet another pee-break. Yes, she has a tiny bladder, get over it!
Before dashing off to the bathroom, Fancy handed Whiskey her debit card and told her to pay for her pie. Tom also happened to be the cashier. He handed Whiskey Fancy's ticket, to which Whiskey replied, "Tom, how much of a tip do you think you were worth tonight?" He quickly replied, "I can't tell you, it's against the law." Whiskey then asked him, "How wild do you think Fancy Wilde is?" Whiskey proceeded to leave Tom a $10 tip on a bill totally $5.00. Tom gave her a wink. Then Whiskey noticed a square tattoo on his arm. She asked if he was a Free Mason. He said no. She asked if it was a Mormon thing, to which he also said no. She asked if it was a little box she could draw her face in. At this point, Carne Asada was laughing. Yes, yes, Whiskey is an idiot!
Finally, Fancy rejoined the group, and signed her tip, and asked Tom if she could sign his. She asked if this was his normal shift, and he said yes. She said she'd be back next week at the same time, and he grinned from ear to ear. She then loudly announced to the entire restaurant that Cam was her boyfriend, and they were going to make babies together.
So next month around this time, Fancy should be knocked up with Tom Selleck's baby. Stay tuned....
Lean Like a Fat Chick
On our way to Shari's, we picked up yet another chica. Not a hooker, just another local Sister Wife. She's been out with us before, and we referred to her as S, but we have now decided to just call her Carne Asada because well, we just like it, and it tastes good with a tortilla!
Whiskey was driving her new ride, aka a Giant Mormon Wagon. She feels it's at least hip because it has a sunroof. With "Lean Like a Cholo" aka, a Fat Chick, playing in the background, Whiskey dangled a doughnut out the window and told Fancy to shake what her mama gave her. Fancy, ever the doughnut enthusiast, shot out the sunroof like a midget out of a cannon at the circus.
With music blaring, and doughnut glaze dripping from Fancy's chin, Whiskey break checked over and over at a stop light. She was trying to make it look like her car had hydros. This is where it gets good....
Because Whiskey was break-checking ever two seconds, Fancy was being whipped around like a pair of dirty, prostitute undies in a laundromat. Holding on for dear life, Fancy reached for whatever she could get a grip on. While on her way down, screaming YEEEEEEEEEE-HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW, she broke one of the panels to the sunroof, and fell onto her seat impailing a water bottle. I think they call that natural water douching.
Fancy, having had nothing up her vag in weeks, didn't cry. Not a tear fell. Instead, sheer ecstasy escaped from her lips. This turn of events got the blood flowing, just as they pulled up to Shari's.
Whiskey was driving her new ride, aka a Giant Mormon Wagon. She feels it's at least hip because it has a sunroof. With "Lean Like a Cholo" aka, a Fat Chick, playing in the background, Whiskey dangled a doughnut out the window and told Fancy to shake what her mama gave her. Fancy, ever the doughnut enthusiast, shot out the sunroof like a midget out of a cannon at the circus.
With music blaring, and doughnut glaze dripping from Fancy's chin, Whiskey break checked over and over at a stop light. She was trying to make it look like her car had hydros. This is where it gets good....
Because Whiskey was break-checking ever two seconds, Fancy was being whipped around like a pair of dirty, prostitute undies in a laundromat. Holding on for dear life, Fancy reached for whatever she could get a grip on. While on her way down, screaming YEEEEEEEEEE-HAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW, she broke one of the panels to the sunroof, and fell onto her seat impailing a water bottle. I think they call that natural water douching.
Fancy, having had nothing up her vag in weeks, didn't cry. Not a tear fell. Instead, sheer ecstasy escaped from her lips. This turn of events got the blood flowing, just as they pulled up to Shari's.
The Wine Cellar--Drewing it UP!
Whiskey, and I quote, "was feeling generous" and decided to call a few friends for a spontaneous night out. She called up Big Blue, aka Babe, and we headed to the Wine Cellar.
**Side Note--By "we" I mean Whiskey and myself, Fancy, as you see, we're currently attached at the hip, and the end is in sight for our impending separation. Thus we have decided to amp up our time together and continue on with our friend addiction until the time that Fancy moves away.
Whiskey and I previously went to this restaurant. You can find that posting here. We were lucky enough this time around to get the same waiter, Drew. I'm pretty certain that he recognized us. He gave some awkward eye contact which indicated we looked familiar to him. We of course instantly recognized the Drew, as we have discussed him on more than one occasion. However for Babe, this was her maiden voyage with Captain Drew.
Drew came to over to us, and sweet talked his way into our hearts. With his gorgeous, dark-colored, Fabio-ish locks of curl, as he whispered, "I can't believe it's not butter" in our ears, we instantly ordered his suggestions, aka the most expensive things on the menu.
Twitter-pated, Fancy made her way to the bathroom. Not to knock off a batch by hand or anything, but because she had to pee. While fluttering through the hall, she nearly tripped and took out the lead singer, "Bones" and took out the entire band playing in the restaurant.
**Side Note--With a pelvic thrust to the face, Fancy instantly knew why he was called "Bones" which obviously was a more socially acceptable term instead of Boner.
Fancy reached for a lamp to try to catch herself, but got her fingers entangled in the lampshade causing quite the scene. Thankfully, she made it to the bathroom in time to chit chat with an older lady who was apparently drunk and in need of company. She solicited Fancy to give her husband a birthday lap dance. Fancy, ever the exhibitionist considered it until she remembered Drew, and knew if she wanted a chance with him, she couldn't be lap dancing some old-ass, creeper!
Once back at the table, Drew stopped by to tell us our food would be out momentarily. Fancy all a twitter, was acting like a tween. Whiskey informed Drew we were not drunk, in fact, we were Sister Wives. With a twinkle in his eye, and a boner in his pants, he proceeded to bring out Babe's Artisan Cheese Platter.
While explaining, Fancy took it upon herself to ask if one of the grapes was an anal bead. Babe, totally avoiding the comment, and Whiskey, shaking her head and shielding her eyes in shame, pretended to be mortified. Drew, ever the classy waiter, laughed and said, "You ladies are a lot of fun." Fancy retorted with, "Cody, our husband, hasn't been to my bed for a few weeks. Everything resembles something you'd find in a sex shop to me." Fabio, I mean Drew, smiled his pretty smile, and patted Fancy on the hand, while casually slipping her his number.
**Side Note--This is Whiskey. What really went down, after Fancy awkwardly asked if he would feed one of the anal bead grapes to her, was a restraining order. Drew locked eyes with me and my luscious pregnancy boobs, and asked if Cody would mind if he bedded with me tonight. I promptly threw everything off the table, whipped up my Mennonite dress, and said, "Take me right here, right now!"
**Side Note--Fancy again....Whiskey's a liar. A bold faced, pregnant LIAR!!! It was really my Mennonite dress that got whipped out that night....more on that in the Tom Selleck Post.
Meanwhile, Babe, ever the autism advocate, was too busy talking to her straw all about her quote unquote autistic 18 month old.
**Side Note--too young to receive a diagnosis. SHUT IT BABE. SHUT IT NOW!
We wound up our time at the Wine Cellar, left Drew a hefty tip, and embarked on our next adventure to Shari's.
**Side Note--By "we" I mean Whiskey and myself, Fancy, as you see, we're currently attached at the hip, and the end is in sight for our impending separation. Thus we have decided to amp up our time together and continue on with our friend addiction until the time that Fancy moves away.
Whiskey and I previously went to this restaurant. You can find that posting here. We were lucky enough this time around to get the same waiter, Drew. I'm pretty certain that he recognized us. He gave some awkward eye contact which indicated we looked familiar to him. We of course instantly recognized the Drew, as we have discussed him on more than one occasion. However for Babe, this was her maiden voyage with Captain Drew.
Drew came to over to us, and sweet talked his way into our hearts. With his gorgeous, dark-colored, Fabio-ish locks of curl, as he whispered, "I can't believe it's not butter" in our ears, we instantly ordered his suggestions, aka the most expensive things on the menu.
Twitter-pated, Fancy made her way to the bathroom. Not to knock off a batch by hand or anything, but because she had to pee. While fluttering through the hall, she nearly tripped and took out the lead singer, "Bones" and took out the entire band playing in the restaurant.
**Side Note--With a pelvic thrust to the face, Fancy instantly knew why he was called "Bones" which obviously was a more socially acceptable term instead of Boner.
Fancy reached for a lamp to try to catch herself, but got her fingers entangled in the lampshade causing quite the scene. Thankfully, she made it to the bathroom in time to chit chat with an older lady who was apparently drunk and in need of company. She solicited Fancy to give her husband a birthday lap dance. Fancy, ever the exhibitionist considered it until she remembered Drew, and knew if she wanted a chance with him, she couldn't be lap dancing some old-ass, creeper!
Once back at the table, Drew stopped by to tell us our food would be out momentarily. Fancy all a twitter, was acting like a tween. Whiskey informed Drew we were not drunk, in fact, we were Sister Wives. With a twinkle in his eye, and a boner in his pants, he proceeded to bring out Babe's Artisan Cheese Platter.
While explaining, Fancy took it upon herself to ask if one of the grapes was an anal bead. Babe, totally avoiding the comment, and Whiskey, shaking her head and shielding her eyes in shame, pretended to be mortified. Drew, ever the classy waiter, laughed and said, "You ladies are a lot of fun." Fancy retorted with, "Cody, our husband, hasn't been to my bed for a few weeks. Everything resembles something you'd find in a sex shop to me." Fabio, I mean Drew, smiled his pretty smile, and patted Fancy on the hand, while casually slipping her his number.
**Side Note--This is Whiskey. What really went down, after Fancy awkwardly asked if he would feed one of the anal bead grapes to her, was a restraining order. Drew locked eyes with me and my luscious pregnancy boobs, and asked if Cody would mind if he bedded with me tonight. I promptly threw everything off the table, whipped up my Mennonite dress, and said, "Take me right here, right now!"
**Side Note--Fancy again....Whiskey's a liar. A bold faced, pregnant LIAR!!! It was really my Mennonite dress that got whipped out that night....more on that in the Tom Selleck Post.
Meanwhile, Babe, ever the autism advocate, was too busy talking to her straw all about her quote unquote autistic 18 month old.
**Side Note--too young to receive a diagnosis. SHUT IT BABE. SHUT IT NOW!
We wound up our time at the Wine Cellar, left Drew a hefty tip, and embarked on our next adventure to Shari's.
Monday, April 16, 2012
"You're Lucky It's Just Water"
Tassles again. This is another vindictive story from my trip with Princess to Idaho. Princess and I were playing a card game with Princess's mom, when he made a joke about me queefing. -The joke was less about making fun of me, and really just incorporating a previous conversation, but the gay mentioned "me" and "queef" in the same sentence. I just couldn't let him get away with that.- In a moment of resolve I grabbed my glass of water and threw it in his face.
*Side Note: I am generally a really careful person. I don't mind verbal sparing, but I try to not do or say things that I'll have to apologize later for. However, as I flicked my little wrist and watched that water splash across his smooth gay face, I felt nothing but pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
Needless to say, Princess was shocked. You could see the steam rising from him as he grabbed a towel and mopped up his face and the table. All he said was, "Really?" Yes Princess, really. You have had that coming for months now. You know, and I know it. I replied, "Sorry mom for getting the table wet, I just really needed to do that." She said, (and I love this) "It's okay, I get it."
Princess quickly regained his composure, made a joke, and resumed the conversation. He is an agreeable gay afterall. He knew that he was lucky it was just water.
*Side Note: I am generally a really careful person. I don't mind verbal sparing, but I try to not do or say things that I'll have to apologize later for. However, as I flicked my little wrist and watched that water splash across his smooth gay face, I felt nothing but pure, unadulterated satisfaction.
Needless to say, Princess was shocked. You could see the steam rising from him as he grabbed a towel and mopped up his face and the table. All he said was, "Really?" Yes Princess, really. You have had that coming for months now. You know, and I know it. I replied, "Sorry mom for getting the table wet, I just really needed to do that." She said, (and I love this) "It's okay, I get it."
Princess quickly regained his composure, made a joke, and resumed the conversation. He is an agreeable gay afterall. He knew that he was lucky it was just water.
"I'm Not Jealous or Anything..."
*Side Note: Prince and I were never really friends until
Princess decided to show his true rainbow colors. At that point Prince e-mailed
me to offer support. A few months later, his wife sprung a divorce on him. So I
followed suite and offered a nice supportive message for him too. We’ve
e-mailed casually back and forth since. Most of our conversations have included
topics like cars, jobs, and kids. A little flirting here and there, but really
we’re both recently divorced, heartbroken, baggage carrying emotional wrecks
right now.
Here’s how Princess and my text conversation went down:
P: I didn’t know you and Prince were talking. (From the
beginning of our break-up Princess said really douche bag disguised as
supportive things “All I want is for you to be happy. I can’t wait for you to
find the man of your dreams.” TRANSLATION: “I know I pursued you, and made
eternal commitments to honor and cherish you as my wife, but I’m kind of over
that now. Sorry. I do want you to find someone though, so I don’t have to feel
so bad about it forever.” Thanks Princess Douche Bag…)
T: Yeah, we’ve exchanged e-mails for a couple of months now.
P: It’s just weird that you two arranged a get together and
not him and me. (At this point I know that Princess is starting to get
uncomfortable… J)
T: We were going to be in town, and I thought it would be
nice to see him.
P: Have you guys been flirting, or is this just a friend
thing? (Totally just a friend thing, but I am so enjoying that Princess is
weirded out.)
T: Um, neither of us would be talking if we were still
married. But I’m pretty sure we’re just supporting each other.
P: It’s fine if you are flirting. I’m not jealous or
anything. But he didn’t even ask me. (At this point, I am dying laughing. As if
anyone needs to ask Princess’s permission to date me… I thought about turning
it into a fight, but then again I needed to ride in a car with him for four
hours tomorrow. Instead I’ll just take absolute joy in knowing that he is
uncomfortable and play it off like I didn’t see the last part.)
T: We just decided to meet tonight. That’s why I’m letting
you know now.
P: Prince is a great man. Attractive, kind, and funny. But
he has a terrible history with money and he is recently divorced. I’ve known
him for almost 20 years now. (Priceless. His jealousy is almost palpable. He
wants to say nice things, but just can’t resist throwing in some jabs at his
High School best friend who he is assuming is trying to get with his ex-wife.)
T: I agree. He is a nice man. Thanks for being cool.
We met up with Prince that Sunday night and all three of us
spent several hours playing the Wii and a card game. I made extra sure to sit
next to Prince during the card game and to give him a lingering hug goodbye.
Princess’s expression during the hug was pure GOLD! To make matters even
better, I met up with one of my friends a few nights later (her gay ex-husband
and my gay ex-husband are roommates). She said, “So, I was over at the house
the night that you and Princess were having the conversation about you and his
best friend. He kept pacing around the house and kept reiterating to me, ‘I’m
not jealous or anything, but…’” Yeah Princess, not jealous at all…
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Fancy is Trashy
Today, Fancy was wearing her pajamas, and she had her arms loaded with things to take in the house. Before getting out of the car, she said to Whiskey, "I'm just warning you, my pants are sagging, and I will be showing crack when I get up." Sure enough, she slop-crotched Whiskey, the way a plumber would while fixing a sink. The real kicker came when she came back to the car. In broad daylight, she flipping flashed her milky-white's at Whiskey....
Apparently Fancy's not shy....
Apparently Fancy's not shy....
Pregnant Lesbians at the Mall
On a recent trip to the mall, Whiskey was purchasing a dress, and she went into the dressing room to try it on. It was closing time.
**Side Note-- "Closing time, one last call for alcohol...." Sorry, I couldn't resist. Whiskey's reliving her lush days, she can't even think of what to put next....
Fancy was talking about being wild in bed, and the sales clerk chimed in, and said, "Who's wild?" Whiskey said, oh, we're just reminiscing the good old days."
While in the dressing room, trying on her dress, Whiskey could hear the dialogue between Fancy and the sales clerk. Fancy was stating that they weren't lesbians, and that she wasn't the cause of Whiskey's baby bump, even though Fancy could pass as the butch one at the moment. Fancy stated that she didn't have a penis in her pants, and that both Whiskey and Fancy currently have husbands.
The sales clerks just died laughing, stating they knew how it was, they too have breast friends and are always accused of being lesbians.
**Side Note-- "Closing time, one last call for alcohol...." Sorry, I couldn't resist. Whiskey's reliving her lush days, she can't even think of what to put next....
Fancy was talking about being wild in bed, and the sales clerk chimed in, and said, "Who's wild?" Whiskey said, oh, we're just reminiscing the good old days."
While in the dressing room, trying on her dress, Whiskey could hear the dialogue between Fancy and the sales clerk. Fancy was stating that they weren't lesbians, and that she wasn't the cause of Whiskey's baby bump, even though Fancy could pass as the butch one at the moment. Fancy stated that she didn't have a penis in her pants, and that both Whiskey and Fancy currently have husbands.
The sales clerks just died laughing, stating they knew how it was, they too have breast friends and are always accused of being lesbians.
Fancy in Heat--Dirty Twirls Style
For the last week, I’ve noticed an unusual odor coming from
Fancy, which means A) She has a yeast infection or B) She’s in heat again….
**Side Note—I’d be lying if I actually said this happened in
the last week. This has been ongoing
since she stopped having sex! Maybe she
needs to clean her toys.
I don’t even know where to start. Let’s begin with a few direct quotes from
Fancy.
“I pulled my pants down, and I sat on the toilet, and I got
a waft of my crotch. OMG, I think I
should shower.”
“I’m so wet, I feel like I just peed my pants.”
“OMG I can totally smell myself just sitting here.”
“Um, you may want to febreze your car seat because I think I
juiced on your seat.”
Dirty Twirls #1
So we’re at the mall, at the food court, eating Cinnabon,
and Fancy looks over at me and says, “I have a lesbian fantasy,” while staring
at me eerily. I didn’t know what to do,
so I just kept eating, and I avoided eye contact. All the while, I could smell her horny scent
wafting its way masking the delicious smell of my cinnabon.
Dirty Twirls #2
I’m eating dinner with my family, when I realize that I have
missed phone calls, unanswered text messages, and then Fancy calling my own
husband. I answer my husband’s phone, to
hear the sound of a shower in the background, a high pitched giggle, and
gibberish. After 5 minutes of non-stop
giggling, I finally translated: Big Papa. Sex. My Bed. So “apparently” the story goes something like
this….Fancy went to climb in the shower, but realized she didn’t have a towel. She ran down the hall, naked. She reached for a towel, when she realized
Big Papa was checking out her goods.
Fancy, feeling awkward, wrapped the towel around herself. Big Papa solicited her for some loving, and
she said, you realize we’re getting divorced, right? He said, I’m a dude, I can bone you with no
feeling. Fancy booked it into the
bathroom. Before she could get the door
closed, Big Papa shoved his way in, and tried to get her to head to the
bedroom. Fancy kept repeatedly
protesting, and she said, let me shower first.
Finally, after 5 minutes of begging, he left her alone to shower. It was then, that she used her phone a friend
lifeline, and I told her she should go for it. I mean, he is her husband, they
may as well have some amazing break-up sex, right? Fancy claims she didn’t do anything, but her
dusty vagina odor vanished.
Dirty Twirls #3
Did I ever tell you Fancy’s a cougar? While ordering food at Sonic
**Side Note—Yes, we go there every day!
The sweet, innocent, little, car-hop brought us our food,
and he asked if we needed anything else.
From the passenger seat, Fancy chimes “How about a side of tots and a
lap dance. I’m unusually horny today.” All I could do was roll up my window, as I
watched his little skates, skate away.
**Side Note—Fancy was wearing pajamas…with matching Sunday
shoes. The poor kid didn’t stand a
chance.
Dirty Twirls #4
Fancy Takes on Little Papa
During sacrament meeting today, I noticed that Fancy was making eyes at LP. She texted me and said, "Little Papa and I just made eye contact, and we both smiled. I just thought you should know." While reading this, I could hear her dirty twirl giggle...I'm supposed to be thinking about Christ here. Then, without my knowledge, Little Papa was snagged by Fancy to teach in Primary. The two of them exchanged jokes.
**Side Note--They're both own joke laughers...aka UD-ers.
Then, after church, while on the phone with Whiskey, Fancy said, "I know I looked hot today, and I think Little Papa was checking me out."
After that, Fancy came to my house, in her pajamas with no bra. She confronted LP about the come-ons. He said he was so turned on, he had to have his hand over his crotch to conceal his giant boner.
**Side Note--Fancy and LP are practically twins....this little escapade is extremely incestuous.
Running from the Zoo-Meister
I was on my way out of my church class to return my stuff to the library. Suddenly I felt eyes on me. I felt like I was being stalked by a mountain lion. In all reality, it was the Zoo-Meister, and I wasn't her prey, my stomach was. The second she saw me, her eyes got huge, and her hands started moving in a clock-wise, circular motion.
***Side Note--every Sunday she tries to rub my ever-grown-baby-bump.
Like any animal being stalked by a predator, I started to zig-zag down the hall. I don't know how that old lady is in such good shape because I was in a full-on sprint by the time she caught up to me. Right before her long, dirty nails caressed my body, I thought fast, and I held up a picture of Jesus.
***Side Note--It was like a scene from The Exorcist.
Thankfully the library was open, and I cut her off as her hand stretched-forth to remove Jesus from in front of my womb. I gave friendly hello, and she got the clue, this one time, that I was not interested in her touching my body!
Later, while sitting on the couch outside the Bishop's office, The Zoo-Meister happened upon me again. This time, I didn't see it coming, so I was unprepared. She caressed my neck with her long, creepy nails, and pressed her cold, corpse-like fingers against my skin. I felt dirty all over. Apparently I looked hot, and she felt the need to cool me down with her touch of weird!
***Side Note--The Zoo-Meister really is a sweet spirit, and I love her.
***Side Note--every Sunday she tries to rub my ever-grown-baby-bump.
Like any animal being stalked by a predator, I started to zig-zag down the hall. I don't know how that old lady is in such good shape because I was in a full-on sprint by the time she caught up to me. Right before her long, dirty nails caressed my body, I thought fast, and I held up a picture of Jesus.
***Side Note--It was like a scene from The Exorcist.
Thankfully the library was open, and I cut her off as her hand stretched-forth to remove Jesus from in front of my womb. I gave friendly hello, and she got the clue, this one time, that I was not interested in her touching my body!
Later, while sitting on the couch outside the Bishop's office, The Zoo-Meister happened upon me again. This time, I didn't see it coming, so I was unprepared. She caressed my neck with her long, creepy nails, and pressed her cold, corpse-like fingers against my skin. I felt dirty all over. Apparently I looked hot, and she felt the need to cool me down with her touch of weird!
***Side Note--The Zoo-Meister really is a sweet spirit, and I love her.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Sexy Zecksy...
Last night Whiskey and Fancy headed over to the church because Fancy had an appointment with the Bishop. While waiting, Sexy Zecksy (the man this time) was there waiting, too. We were looking after a couple of little kiddlets who were with their dad. So Whiskey began telling them that we had fake teeth, etc. All of a sudden, Sexy-Zecksy whips out his false teeth to show the kids. The 4 and 6 year old look mesmerized by this. I personally wanted to laugh hysterically and was appalled, disgusted, and ready to hurl. EWWWWWWW
Meanwhile, the other Sexy Zecksy came strolling through holding a baby. When I asked whose baby that was, she said, oh, I can't remember their names. Uh, I am thankful I do not have a newborn. Whiskey, when baby brick house is born, do NOT, i repeat DO NOT let either of the Sexy Zecksys near him/her!
Meanwhile, the other Sexy Zecksy came strolling through holding a baby. When I asked whose baby that was, she said, oh, I can't remember their names. Uh, I am thankful I do not have a newborn. Whiskey, when baby brick house is born, do NOT, i repeat DO NOT let either of the Sexy Zecksys near him/her!
Carol's
I pathetically drove by my ex-gf Carol's business yesterday. Thankfully Carol didn't see me peeping out of the sunroof trying to take a picture of her place...hoping she might be inside. Carol broke my heart, you see, but I am a little crazy, so I was still stalking her. Maybe it's time to move on and be with a dude again in the future...one who actually is ready for me!
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| Yes, I look hideous and ridiculous, but when you break up with your hot gf, then you tell me how you'd look... |
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| Carol, how will I live without you curling my hair and styling it in a mullet? Oh man, here come the tears.... |
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Big titty magee
So fancy dragged my butt to this little moon time bar down town.
***side note: she would pick this place since she loves to moon ppl.
Any ways I love the corn pasta salad there so of course I was game...and I'm prego...I love food.
We sit down and these ppl next to use start talking about this Mikaela with big tits and how they would put a flash light under her boobs and could see her implants..... fancy found joy in this....not surprising Hahahaha!
***side note: she would pick this place since she loves to moon ppl.
Any ways I love the corn pasta salad there so of course I was game...and I'm prego...I love food.
We sit down and these ppl next to use start talking about this Mikaela with big tits and how they would put a flash light under her boobs and could see her implants..... fancy found joy in this....not surprising Hahahaha!
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Thank You Cum Inn
Upon seeing myself in the cum inn pictures, I decided that the girls needed a serious intervention. Whiskey took me to get a new BRA. In true Whiskey style, we went to wal-mart. I'll be honest, I've never purchased anything but a sports bra from Wal-Mart until now, and I must say, WAY TO GO WHISKEY! The girls look like they're 28 instead of 48.
**Side Note--the dressing rooms were closed, so I went to a secluded corner in the back of the dressing room area, and I just whipped off my shirt and went for it. I mean it was 10:30 at night, who was there anyway.
**Side Note #2--Whiskey told me that a certain bra looked really good, until I pointed (literally) out that the bra was making my nipples pointy and poky like a person with two lazy eyes.
**Side Note #3--I was getting some socks for Fancy Jr, and I told Whiskey to go find my bra size, which I stated as an F cup. I told her that they wouldn't have any. It took me an unusually long time to select the right socks, and she came back and said, "You were right, they don't carry an F-cup here. Are you sure you're not a DD?" I looked at her to ask if she really thought I was an F cup or even a DD? I informed her, I am a C-cup....so, so, so funny!
Now this is what I envision a size F-cup to be! I'm far from that....
**Side Note--the dressing rooms were closed, so I went to a secluded corner in the back of the dressing room area, and I just whipped off my shirt and went for it. I mean it was 10:30 at night, who was there anyway.
**Side Note #2--Whiskey told me that a certain bra looked really good, until I pointed (literally) out that the bra was making my nipples pointy and poky like a person with two lazy eyes.
**Side Note #3--I was getting some socks for Fancy Jr, and I told Whiskey to go find my bra size, which I stated as an F cup. I told her that they wouldn't have any. It took me an unusually long time to select the right socks, and she came back and said, "You were right, they don't carry an F-cup here. Are you sure you're not a DD?" I looked at her to ask if she really thought I was an F cup or even a DD? I informed her, I am a C-cup....so, so, so funny!
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Cum Inn
For the last few months I've been telling Fancy about this little hole in the wall called Cum Inn. She didn't believe me until I physically drove her there and made her pose in front of it for a picture.
Seconds after we got back into the car a little old lady CAME shooting out of the little bar. As soon Fancy saw her she grabbed my arm in a panic and told me to role all the windows up. Nervously I tried but it was a new car and I couldn't find the right buttons. With her grunge teeth the old lady informed us that it was $5 taco day and that we should CUM INN. She even had a lazy WT accent. I had to let her down gently and tell her we couldn't because we had our kids asleep in the car with us.
Good creepy times!
Seconds after we got back into the car a little old lady CAME shooting out of the little bar. As soon Fancy saw her she grabbed my arm in a panic and told me to role all the windows up. Nervously I tried but it was a new car and I couldn't find the right buttons. With her grunge teeth the old lady informed us that it was $5 taco day and that we should CUM INN. She even had a lazy WT accent. I had to let her down gently and tell her we couldn't because we had our kids asleep in the car with us.
Good creepy times!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
We're Funny
Fancy's cousin, DDD, sent her this picture via Pinterest, and I believe it is what we do best here at the triple nipple. Mainly, we find ourselves hilarious, and we just enjoy laughing at ourselves and each other. So if no one else finds us humorous, who cares, we laugh at ourselves!
Honey Buckets of Oats
Once more, on another occasion, Fancy was having an emotional meltdown. Despite it being Sunday, Whiskey offered to take her to get a diet coke and to go for a drive. At this time, Whiskey was trying to break her fast food addiction and hadn't consumed any fast food in four days. As they pulled up to the drive-thru, Fancy ordered her diet coke and then a quarter pounder, Fancy Jr a meal, and Whiskey couldn't take it and had to order a meal as well.
**Side Note--They're not even out of the drive-thru yet, and Fancy already has her quarter pounder out, whispering sweet nothings between its buns (I love you! I love you! I love you!).
As they're driving along, Whiskey takes the first bite of her quarter pounder, and instantly knows she is going to regret this later, yet continues to scarf her sweet drug down.
They went to a rural part of the city, with no place to stop, when suddenly Whiskey felt a little grumble, grumble in her prego tumble. She pushed it to the limits, thinking she could make it around the lake. As her stomach expanded and collapsed with gas and let's face it, CRAP, she felt the pressure to turn around. Fancy at this point, in the passenger seat, thoroughly enjoying Whiskey's misery.
Whiskey as gripping the wheel so tightly that her knuckles were literally white, which is amazing considering she has brown skin. Fancy, the bitch that she is, kept laughing and laughing and laughing.
If you know Whiskey, you know she has a phobia of public restrooms, raced forward to try to make it home. She knew she wouldn't make it when goosebumps crawled up her arms and onto her cheeks, not her butt cheeks, her facial cheeks.
She pulled over at a gas station, raced in, butt cheeks clenched, begging for the bathroom. Fancy witnesses Whiskey's walk of shame out to the honey bucket.
**Side Note--Whiskey was still in her brand spanking new church dress, sexy heels, and amazing jewelry!
As soon as Whiskey, head hung low, gets back in the car, Fancy opens up the hand sanitizer. She tells Whiskey not to just rub it on her hands, but everywhere, and to then drink from it.
**Side Note--They're not even out of the drive-thru yet, and Fancy already has her quarter pounder out, whispering sweet nothings between its buns (I love you! I love you! I love you!).
As they're driving along, Whiskey takes the first bite of her quarter pounder, and instantly knows she is going to regret this later, yet continues to scarf her sweet drug down.
They went to a rural part of the city, with no place to stop, when suddenly Whiskey felt a little grumble, grumble in her prego tumble. She pushed it to the limits, thinking she could make it around the lake. As her stomach expanded and collapsed with gas and let's face it, CRAP, she felt the pressure to turn around. Fancy at this point, in the passenger seat, thoroughly enjoying Whiskey's misery.
Whiskey as gripping the wheel so tightly that her knuckles were literally white, which is amazing considering she has brown skin. Fancy, the bitch that she is, kept laughing and laughing and laughing.
If you know Whiskey, you know she has a phobia of public restrooms, raced forward to try to make it home. She knew she wouldn't make it when goosebumps crawled up her arms and onto her cheeks, not her butt cheeks, her facial cheeks.
She pulled over at a gas station, raced in, butt cheeks clenched, begging for the bathroom. Fancy witnesses Whiskey's walk of shame out to the honey bucket.
**Side Note--Whiskey was still in her brand spanking new church dress, sexy heels, and amazing jewelry!
As soon as Whiskey, head hung low, gets back in the car, Fancy opens up the hand sanitizer. She tells Whiskey not to just rub it on her hands, but everywhere, and to then drink from it.
Feeling the Burn, The Chemical Burn
I've always prided myself on my beautiful hair. Unfortunately, as of late, it has become increasingly gray and has required frequent visits to the salon. I used to have my own hair care professional, but unfortunately she upped and moved on me, and I haven't found a competent replacement yet.
**Side Note--Whiskey recommended some born-again Christian FREAK to me, and I thought, I'll give her a whirl since I love Jesus too! So I go into the salon, and we start with a prayer in which she prayed she wouldn't damage my hair. She then proceeded to wash my hair, then rinse it with holy water. As she was drying it, I felt the need to speak in tongues....
The cosmetologist told me that I should color my entire head of hair, dry it, then foil in the highlights. Me, not having been to hair school myself, thought, "hmmm, she is the professional, so I guess I should trust her." WRONG. Never think this. NEVER listen to the professional.
Upon leaving the salon, I did like my color. However, as days went by it became increasingly dry. I decided to go back into the salon to see what the deal was because like I said, I typically have really amazing hair. Yeah, the broad BURNT my hair. Apparently the answer to her prayer was NO. Yeah, this baby-fine-hair now looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket. Thus requiring me to spend extra money going to the salon for deep conditioning treatments and purchasing additional products to hydrate my dull, lifeless, kinky-ass hair!
Today, while at said salon getting my hair hydration on, I was put under the heater. The cosmetologist stepped away, thinking I'd be fine with no problems. However, I got shifty in the seat. Was it the drugs I took beforehand? Was it the diet coke? How about the sugary cereal. Needless to say, I had the shakes. Somehow I managed to knock the free-standing hair dryer over in the middle of my treatment. I looked around in a panic, and I was unsure what to do. Thankfully another stylist came to my rescue and replaced the dryer and situated it so that my shifty-ass wouldn't knock it over.
Do things like this happen to everyone or am I the only one? I mean I pick a faulty cart about every time I enter the grocery store too. Coincidence? I think not. I have a curse.
**Side Note--Whiskey recommended some born-again Christian FREAK to me, and I thought, I'll give her a whirl since I love Jesus too! So I go into the salon, and we start with a prayer in which she prayed she wouldn't damage my hair. She then proceeded to wash my hair, then rinse it with holy water. As she was drying it, I felt the need to speak in tongues....
The cosmetologist told me that I should color my entire head of hair, dry it, then foil in the highlights. Me, not having been to hair school myself, thought, "hmmm, she is the professional, so I guess I should trust her." WRONG. Never think this. NEVER listen to the professional.
Upon leaving the salon, I did like my color. However, as days went by it became increasingly dry. I decided to go back into the salon to see what the deal was because like I said, I typically have really amazing hair. Yeah, the broad BURNT my hair. Apparently the answer to her prayer was NO. Yeah, this baby-fine-hair now looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket. Thus requiring me to spend extra money going to the salon for deep conditioning treatments and purchasing additional products to hydrate my dull, lifeless, kinky-ass hair!
Today, while at said salon getting my hair hydration on, I was put under the heater. The cosmetologist stepped away, thinking I'd be fine with no problems. However, I got shifty in the seat. Was it the drugs I took beforehand? Was it the diet coke? How about the sugary cereal. Needless to say, I had the shakes. Somehow I managed to knock the free-standing hair dryer over in the middle of my treatment. I looked around in a panic, and I was unsure what to do. Thankfully another stylist came to my rescue and replaced the dryer and situated it so that my shifty-ass wouldn't knock it over.
Do things like this happen to everyone or am I the only one? I mean I pick a faulty cart about every time I enter the grocery store too. Coincidence? I think not. I have a curse.
Deodorant Snatcher
I visited my family a week ago, and when living out of a suitcase, occasionally you forget a few minor details. After getting ready for the day and heading down to meet up with an old friend, I realized that I'd forgotten to put on deodorant. Now lest you think this is a normal occurrence, I can assure you it was not. In my typical bathing, ritualistic routine, I put deodorant on right after showering and before any articles of clothing. However, when showering this day, I'd forgotten to bring it to the bathroom with me, and thus forgot to apply it all together.
Being the scent-conscious person that I am, I quickly grabbed the febreze spray kept in my purse, and I gave my pits and shirt a little spritz, as I was running right on time and didn't have a chance to stop for some deodorant reinforcements.
After lunch, I then headed to Target where I met up with my niece. I thought about purchasing a new deodorant, but then I decided to just do what any true whiskey tango does, and I just reached for a can of deodorant spray, knowing it would keep my "secret". Conveniently the shirt I was wearing gave me direct application to the armpit region. Yes, I realize I could have purchased a brand new deodorant, but I just didn't feel like it. Instead, I STOLE some from someone else who will be buying the deodorant I used.
Yes, yes I did this. No, no I don't feel bad about it. I'd do it again the next time I'm in Target and find myself in a similar situation.
Being the scent-conscious person that I am, I quickly grabbed the febreze spray kept in my purse, and I gave my pits and shirt a little spritz, as I was running right on time and didn't have a chance to stop for some deodorant reinforcements.
After lunch, I then headed to Target where I met up with my niece. I thought about purchasing a new deodorant, but then I decided to just do what any true whiskey tango does, and I just reached for a can of deodorant spray, knowing it would keep my "secret". Conveniently the shirt I was wearing gave me direct application to the armpit region. Yes, I realize I could have purchased a brand new deodorant, but I just didn't feel like it. Instead, I STOLE some from someone else who will be buying the deodorant I used.
Yes, yes I did this. No, no I don't feel bad about it. I'd do it again the next time I'm in Target and find myself in a similar situation.
Whiskey at the Gyro-Practor
Whiskey had her first chiropractic experience this past week. She was a little nervous because first-time doctor visits are always awkward, and Fancy wasn't there to break the ice.
**Side Note--Whiskey actually did something on her own...Yes, this is Fancy, yes I'm a jerk!
.
So there I was (Whiskey here now) just me and the gyro-practor. With his beautiful, blue eyes, and his exquisite smelling cologne, he told me to take a deep breath and lay back on his hand. At which point, he laid on top of me and popped my back...not just once, but twice. When I sat up, he asked if that felt okay. With a smile on my face, I said, "That was AMAZING!" He smiled back at me, like a lover after an intense orgasm.
He again laid me down on his bed and proceeded to give my neck a workout. He breathlessly whispered in my ear, "Now lay on your side." Since it felt amazing, I complied to his request. I became putty in his strong, masculine hands.
I turned on my side, and he asked me to lift my leg up towards my chest. Then with arms across my mother milkers, he climbed aboard, junk on my leg, and hands tightly pressed against mine. He softly counted to three, in Italian, and crushed my lower back and hips like the crushed velvet of the seats that I assume are in the backseat of his car. I forgot to mention, while on top of me, there was a little pelvic action, and I didn't stop it. I can't resist a little grindage on my leg.
The grand finale is when he had me stand up, he placed his hands on my hips and caressed me all the way down.
I've always been very faithful in my marriage, but I have another appointment tomorrow. Don't fear, my husband doesn't mind because I was able to bend in places I haven't bent in a long time.
**Side Note--Whiskey actually did something on her own...Yes, this is Fancy, yes I'm a jerk!
.
So there I was (Whiskey here now) just me and the gyro-practor. With his beautiful, blue eyes, and his exquisite smelling cologne, he told me to take a deep breath and lay back on his hand. At which point, he laid on top of me and popped my back...not just once, but twice. When I sat up, he asked if that felt okay. With a smile on my face, I said, "That was AMAZING!" He smiled back at me, like a lover after an intense orgasm.
He again laid me down on his bed and proceeded to give my neck a workout. He breathlessly whispered in my ear, "Now lay on your side." Since it felt amazing, I complied to his request. I became putty in his strong, masculine hands.
I turned on my side, and he asked me to lift my leg up towards my chest. Then with arms across my mother milkers, he climbed aboard, junk on my leg, and hands tightly pressed against mine. He softly counted to three, in Italian, and crushed my lower back and hips like the crushed velvet of the seats that I assume are in the backseat of his car. I forgot to mention, while on top of me, there was a little pelvic action, and I didn't stop it. I can't resist a little grindage on my leg.
The grand finale is when he had me stand up, he placed his hands on my hips and caressed me all the way down.
I've always been very faithful in my marriage, but I have another appointment tomorrow. Don't fear, my husband doesn't mind because I was able to bend in places I haven't bent in a long time.
Rolling in the Deep
When Fancy jumped in, Whiskey warned her that it was laundry day for her magic Mormon underwear, and consequently she was going commando, or as I, Fancy like to refer to it, FREE BALLING...minus the balls!
After about 15 minutes, we reached our desired location in the woods, and cranked up Rolling in the Deep and broke the hell out of those dishes all over the trees and rocks.
I, Fancy, have now found a favorite past time. Others work out, I think I'll just break plates from the dollar store. It's cheaper than my unused gym membership anyway!
The next time you need to let off some steam, grab one of your BFFs, rip off her underwear, and head up for the hills!
GOOOOOOOOOOO NADS
A few months ago, Whiskey took her children to Great Clips to receive hair cuts. After a few weeks, Whiskey Jr. #1 received a little postcard coupon in the mail to get her hair cut again at a discount. However, it was addressed to NADS, which is NOT her name, and to be honest, quite unflattering.
Fast forward, Fancy accompanies Whiskey and her off-spring (aka the fruit of her loins) back to Great Clips. When checking in, the stylist called out NADS. Whiskey instantly felt like crawling in a hole and dying, but couldn't because Fancy was laughing hysterically and LOUDLY. The poor stylist, confused, look at us, like we were WHISKEY TANGOS. Whiskey corrected them, and you could instantly see the embarrassment on their faces.
Fast forward times two, and Whiskey is back at Great Clips, but this time minus Fancy, who is not permitted back on the premises. Again they called out NADS. Whiskey looks at her husband, who is dying of laughter, just like Fancy, and corrects them again, stating that it should have been corrected the last time. The girl at the counter said, "Oh yeah, I was supposed to fix that the last time, and you were with that one friend of yours, and she burst out laughing really loudly."
Whiskey was then wishing she'd gone to Great Clips solo BOTH times as LP and Fancy are quite an embarrassment.
Fast forward, Fancy accompanies Whiskey and her off-spring (aka the fruit of her loins) back to Great Clips. When checking in, the stylist called out NADS. Whiskey instantly felt like crawling in a hole and dying, but couldn't because Fancy was laughing hysterically and LOUDLY. The poor stylist, confused, look at us, like we were WHISKEY TANGOS. Whiskey corrected them, and you could instantly see the embarrassment on their faces.
Fast forward times two, and Whiskey is back at Great Clips, but this time minus Fancy, who is not permitted back on the premises. Again they called out NADS. Whiskey looks at her husband, who is dying of laughter, just like Fancy, and corrects them again, stating that it should have been corrected the last time. The girl at the counter said, "Oh yeah, I was supposed to fix that the last time, and you were with that one friend of yours, and she burst out laughing really loudly."
Whiskey was then wishing she'd gone to Great Clips solo BOTH times as LP and Fancy are quite an embarrassment.
Birthday Blow Out
Because as previously mentioned, I had to sing at the big Relief Society Birthday Blow Out, I had to drag and drug Whiskey there with me. You know some of the events that unfolded, but now I think it is time to share with you, our beloved audience, some of the creepers we have to interact with on a regular basis. This may or may not be against the law, we are unsure. Hopefully no one stumbles upon this blog and then sues us...oh wait, they can, what would they get, Tassels' parent's house?
Meet Sexy Zecksy...now this nickname can be used for her or her husband. I heard he almost died and was in the hospital.
**Side note--for almost a year, everyone at church thought her husband was dying and in the hospital. In reality, he was really at home, just going through a year-long inactivity period.
Now Sexy Zecksy is quite the cackler. She has a cackle heard round the world. No matter where you live, you've heard her, you just didn't realize it was her. She has a beautiful, curly, blonde mullet, and I'm so pleased that if you look closely, she's sporting a killer camel toe in this picture! THANKS SEXY ZECKSY for those tight pants.
If you glance to the left of her, you'll see the ward midget! She sings like a knock-off opera singer from BYU. If you can believe it, she claims to have been proposed to about 8 times while in college. I think someone is a GIANT fabricator!
Next we have the Zoo-Meister. 9-inch nails has nothing on her...her fingernails rival the length of her actual fingers. I think she's going for a Guinness World Record. To quote a dear, OCD friend about the Zooer, I will recall the following story. When my friend, T had her 4th baby, she brought him to church when he was a few weeks old. The Zoo-Meister stroked his tiny, fragile little body with her creepy, nasty, long nails. T said right then and there, she wanted to dip her baby in hand sanitizer from head to toe.
Also in this picture is CAB, which stands for CRAZY ASS BITCH. We'd elaborate on her CAB-ness, but that deserves a post all in itself. Let's just say she has it out for Whiskey!
Finally we get to Fancy's Arch Nemesis, Bushy M. Since we all know about her rudeness, there's not much to mention aside from that hair needs a flat iron, those clothes need a burn barrel, and that giraffe neck needs broken. Clearly, you can all see what I'm talking about!
At the conclusion of the evening, Whiskey and Fancy, in true TRASHY fashion, snapped some photos in the hallway.
**Side note--we are like adult teenagers!
We had to get some shots together, as well. Yes, we are glamorous wherever we go....and crazy!
Meet Sexy Zecksy...now this nickname can be used for her or her husband. I heard he almost died and was in the hospital.
**Side note--for almost a year, everyone at church thought her husband was dying and in the hospital. In reality, he was really at home, just going through a year-long inactivity period.
If you glance to the left of her, you'll see the ward midget! She sings like a knock-off opera singer from BYU. If you can believe it, she claims to have been proposed to about 8 times while in college. I think someone is a GIANT fabricator!
Next we have the Zoo-Meister. 9-inch nails has nothing on her...her fingernails rival the length of her actual fingers. I think she's going for a Guinness World Record. To quote a dear, OCD friend about the Zooer, I will recall the following story. When my friend, T had her 4th baby, she brought him to church when he was a few weeks old. The Zoo-Meister stroked his tiny, fragile little body with her creepy, nasty, long nails. T said right then and there, she wanted to dip her baby in hand sanitizer from head to toe.
Also in this picture is CAB, which stands for CRAZY ASS BITCH. We'd elaborate on her CAB-ness, but that deserves a post all in itself. Let's just say she has it out for Whiskey!
Finally we get to Fancy's Arch Nemesis, Bushy M. Since we all know about her rudeness, there's not much to mention aside from that hair needs a flat iron, those clothes need a burn barrel, and that giraffe neck needs broken. Clearly, you can all see what I'm talking about!
At the conclusion of the evening, Whiskey and Fancy, in true TRASHY fashion, snapped some photos in the hallway.
**Side note--we are like adult teenagers!
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| Here's my little Ghetto Superstar |
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| Here's Whiskey prepping for when she delivers her baby in a rice patty field. I think that's Dr. Joeng's birth plan, being a Persuasion and all. |
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| Here's Fancy hiding from Bushy...I don't think she saw me! |
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| And finally, Fancy and her beasty side, trying not to kill Bushy, who we all know absolutely deserves to go down! |
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