525,600 Minutes

Applefest 2008 - Part Deux

Ok, so where did we leave off?  A week ago.  When JillyD told you it would be the next day.  Sorry, I lied.  JillyD shouldn't make lofty promises of next day entries when JillyD's spawn play every sport available in the free world.  And maybe in the unfree world too.  Basketball, football, softball, soccer.  We had all of them this weekend.  And when I say "we," I don't mean me.  But since I'm one of two adults who can drive in this household, I might as well be getting my ass tackled on the football field since I'm at every game and every practice.  So there's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.  But back to Applefest.

The last time we gathered, we were discussing boobs, were we not?  Like how disturbing it was that our childhood heroine, Pippi Longstocking had grown a set of huge ones?  Very disturbing.  And that pictures like this adorned each and every one of the kiddie rides...

 

Obviously this gal is not familiar with Victoria.  Or her secret.  Underwire support is never a bad thing - just sayin'.

The House of Mirrors is always a fan favorite.  Because why the hell wouldn't you want to run your ass into mirror after mirror and breathe in all of the germ and mold spores that are colonizing on the mirrored surfaces that are being peppered with spit and snot from all those who enter.  And notice I could have said spit and sperm - the alliteration would have been better - but I exhibited a morsel of self control.  Kinda.

 

The Boy was dipped into a vat of boiling bleach upon his exit from the house of mirrors - just sayin'.

This gal was in charge of said germ haven.  I'm pretty sure that she's a descendant of Pocahontas or Sacagawea.  Is that how you spell Sacagawea?  Who gives a shit?  If your name has the word "Sac" in it, it's a problem.  Because everyone immediately things "nut sac" and don't tell me you didn't because you'd be lying.  I know you people.

 

So let's all sing a song to Pocahontas, shall we?  I've been to the year 2008, and your great, great, great granddaughter is doing great.  Except that she probably has to clean the sperm that's left behind in the house of mirrors.  And she bathes on a semi-annual basis.  And I think she's married to this guy...

Not that there's anything wrong with being dentally challenged.  I'm sure he's a lovely man.  Like for example, he clearly loves children...

  

Orthodontia vs. no orthodontia?  Or teeth vs. no teeth?  I'm planning on taking this picture to The Girl's orthodontist to see if he'd like to use it in his latest ad campaign.  That will, of course, involve royalties for me.  But clearly, the cool kids have orthodontia AND teeth.  Just sayin'... 

The local freak show is always a good place for a little self introspection and to gain some perspective on one's self as well.  For example, my friend Yo! has been a little down on herself lately.  She thinks she's gained a few pounds and is feeling a little un-slender lately.  JillyD to the rescue...

 

Raise your hand if you think Yo! is stunningly svelte.  Damn near anorexic, if you ask me.  Go have an elephant ear, Yo!.  No, really - go ahead.  Perspective - it's a beautiful thing.

I will say that the Applefest does have some standards.  Like they just don't let anyone into their food tents...

 

No elephant ears for the chickens.  Unless they can convince Yo! to buy them one - or three.

Or maybe this guy will buy them one.  And they can check for nose boogers in his cool mirrored shades...

 

Either way it's a win-win - just sayin'.

Applefest 2008 aka "What the Hell?"

Welcome to the second annual edition of the freaks come out at night.  Except it wasn't night.  It was during the day.  And "it" is the money sucking debacle known as the "church festival."  Remember how much fun we had last year touring the freak show?  Let's give it another whirl, shall we?

Never known to disappoint, this year's festival contained new and improved death traps.  Like this one for example...

 

Who in their right fuckin' mind would go on this?  Seriously.  It's assembled by people that are dumber then my dogs.  And my dogs lick their own nuts and have been known to eat their own poop on occasion.  But they're smarter then the folks that assemble these rides - in one day I might add.  Swear to God.  I drop the kids off in the morning, this mo fo is in pieces on a truck.  I pick the kids up from school - 6 hours later - and this mo fo is ready and waiting for its unsuspecting victims.  All I have to say is, "What the hell?"  And thank God that my kids are chicken shits and had no interest in blowing chunks on this killer.

Along with the new death traps, came new carnies.  Carnies with authority issues.  And bad teeth.  But carnies and bad teeth are synonymous, wouldn't you agree?  This ass wipe took it upon himself to throw The Boy off of the Himalaya.  Threw.him.off.  Here's The Boy saying, "Dude, what the fuck?"

 

Ok, he didn't really say "what the fuck?"  But he was thinking it.  And he did say dude.  Or maybe he was calling him a douche bag.  His mouth is forming a "dooo" sound.  And I'm not even a speech therapist.  Go figure.  Anywho, this barely past puberty fuckwit with bad ears threw my kid off the ride.  Too bad we don't know why.  Apparently because he's the law of the land.  Or the Himalaya nazi.  Bastard.

Look who's back.  Back again.  It's so heartwarming to know that job security is alive and well in America.  Apparently your job is safe if you work at the basketball hoop, screwing unsuspecting children out of their five dollars for one effin' throw and you're a tattooed freak.

  

If you're an educated professional who bathes on a regular basis, watch out, your ass could be canned at any minute.  But if you're a regular on America's Most Wanted because you killed somebody yesterday, feel free to work the same booth next year at the "church" festival.  Unless you're in jail.  Which is highly likely.  Because we want you to spend quality time interacting with our children.  What the hell?

Just so you don't think that JillyD is picking on all the stanky ass carnies, let's switch the focus to those who attend the festival, shall we?  Like this guy...

  

Let me answer that question that I know you're asking right now.  Yes, Virginia, his fucking hair is green.  And his dad has a ponytail.  And his mom needs a bra.  And his mom and dad are most likely brother and sister.  Which explains the green hair.  I'm going to go out on a limb but I'm pretty sure that an identical gene pool results in green hair - just sayin'.  Raise your hand if you can picture this freak ass sitting on a porch, playing the banjo.  Let's all say it together, shall we?  What the hell? 

Have you ever wondered what happened to the stars of your favorite childhood stories?  Like Nancy Drew?  Did she end up addicted to valium, screwing the paperboy, and on welfare?  Or what about Pippi Longstocking?  Whatever became of her?  Oh wait, JillyD knows...

Well what do you know?  Pippi Longstocking is all grown up.  And has big boobs.  What the hell?  That's very disturbing.  Pippi Longstocking isn't supposed to have boobs.  But Nancy Drew isn't supposed to be screwing the paperboy now either, is she?

Speaking of big boobs.  And we were, weren't we?  This lovely lass was prominently displayed on the front of The Twister...

  

What the hell?  Who is she?  Titty Longstocking.  Pippi's older, evil, bigger boobed sister?  Who's apparently a super hero to boot.  Who knew?  Here's a question for you.  Why exactly would this be appropriate at a "childrens" carnival?  With the operative word being "children."  She's like an S&M dominatrix for fuck sake.  Once again, all I have to say is "What the hell?"

There's so much more but so little time.  Tune in tomorrow for Part Deux of Applefest 2008 aka "What the Hell?"  You won't be sorry, promise...

So Effin' Funny...

I don't laugh at too many things.  This made me pee my pants...

Hilary: I don't believe in the Bush Doctrine.

Sarah: I don't know what that is.

"I can see Russia from my house" and "Boner Shrinker" ~ pure genius.  Not to mention the MILF comment...

I'm going to watch it again because it's too funny not to.  Politics ~ what's not to love?

I Once Was Lost But Now I'm Found...

And no, I'm not talking about the wretch that is me.  What the hell is a wretch?  Is it like a wench?  I know a wench.  She's nocturnal and she's uber cool.  But I'm guessing that a wretch isn't uber cool.  Wretch.  Isn't that like puke?  So let's use it in a sentence, shall we?  "JillyD had one too many margaritas which made her wretch her guts out all night long."  That didn't really happen.  JillyD can hold her liquor ~ just sayin'.  But is the song really saying "saved a puke like me?"  I'm thinking, no.  But who gives a shit?  This has nothing to do with puking or wretching or blowing chunks or whatever your preferred term for vomiting might be.  Thank God ~ the talk of vomiting makes me throw up a little in my mouth.

What I'm talking about is the Nintendo DS.  It once was lost but now it's found.  Which just made my freakin' day because the thought of shelling out another $129.99 for another bitch of a game was making me wretch a little.  See?  There is a connection.  And you thought JillyD was random.

About a month ago, The Boy lost his Nintendo DS.  Which was a disaster of epic proportions since he loves that thing as much as he loves his own penis.  Maybe more.  Ok, maybe not.  But he loves that damn thing.  And I love it because it makes my life a hell of a lot easier.  Yes, I'm a lazy ass parent.  That's why I didn't breastfeed.  Because I'm lazy.  And selfish.  And least I can admit my own character flaws, right?  Back to the Land of the Lost.  So one day, The Boy notifies me that he has no effin' idea where the Nintendo DS is.  No.idea.  I almost shit a brick at that moment.  Not only was I out 100 bucks but what the hell was going to keep him entertained during The Girl's various and sundry sporting events?  If you're thinking it should be me, my response is "What the hell?"  I'm watching the various and sundry sports being played.  Entertaining The Boy is not top on my list of priorities at those moments.  See, I told you I was selfish.  Didn't believe me, did you?  It's true.

The last place we remembered see the damn game was at the orthodontist when The Girl was being equipped with the braces that cost $5800.  She damn well better not lose those ~ just sayin'.  So I call the orthodontist and they say the don't have it.  I don't believe them.  And quite frankly, for $5800 they should replace the effin' game that my irresponsible 8 year old lost in their office.  Don't you think?  I'm pretty sure that's a reasonable request.  They didn't offer.  Sons of bitches.

So it's not at the orthondontist office, it's not in the car, it's not in the cushions of the furniture, it's not in anyone's bed, it's not in the washer or dryer (I checked) ~ it's not anywhere.  It's lost and it's not going to be found.  The Boy is devastated and wants a new one.  Mach One & I are trying to be responsible parents and tell him that if he lost it, he needs to buy a new one with his own money.  The Boy can't figure out why the hell Mach One & I are all of a sudden becoming responsible parents.  It was a little weird, I have to admit.  So life went on in this new, weird parallel universe of responsible parenting and The Boy learned to live without his Nintendo DS.  Or he swallowed his testosterone laden pride and played The Girl's pink one when she wasn't looking.  Until Friday.

I think we have a ghost in the house.  Or a poltergeist.  Are they the same thing?  Carol Anne?  Carol Anne?  Don't go near the light.  Stay away from the light.  That is a poltergeist right?  A mean bastard of a poltergeist.  I'm pretty sure that's not what we have.  Unless you happen upon me at the wrong time of my menstrual cycle.  Then I probably count as the mean poltergeist that resides in the house.  At least my family thinks so.  Personally, I think I'm a peach all day, every day ~ just sayin'.  But back to the ghost in our house.  The Boy was rifiling through a basket of shit that sits near our TV in the great room.  While it's not literally a basket of shit, figurativley a "basket of shit" is a perfect description.  Nerf guns, nerf darts, playing cards, yo-yos, Nintendo DS'.  WHAT?  Nintendo DS'?  Sure as shit, The Boy pulled the damn DS out of the basket of shit.  How the hell is got there, I'll never know.  Nor does he.  He swore that he's looked in in a million times.  I guess it was the million and one'th time that was the charm.

So the Nintendo DS has been returned to the sweaty paws of it's rightful owner and peace & harmony have been restored in our household.  Amen.

Look, it's me, JillyD

That kind of looks like me, doesn't it?  Kinda, sorta.  If all of sudden I was turned into a cartoon.  What the hell did you expect, Sponge Bob?  Or Mr. Krabs?  Don't answer that.

Anywho, I just spent a ridiculous amount of time on this site: faceyourmanga.com.  Which suspiciously sounds like "mangle your face" doesn't it?  Did I spell suspiciously right?  It's looks wrong, doesn't it?  Too bad I'm too damn lazy to go look it up.  Back to the face mangle site.  Go check it out.  Go mangle your face and then do me a favor, would ya?  Email your avatar to me, JillyD.  And I'll add you to the blog.  We can have a whole posse of mangled face cartoon friends.  Want bigger boobs?  Go ahead, makem' bigger ~ I don't give a crap!  Want all sorts of metal shit stuck in your face?  Pierce your eyebrow ~ go ahead, I dare you.  I'll draw the line at the nipple piercing though ~ just sayin'. 

Are You Ready For Some Football?

Today, I witnessed what may have been the cutest damn thing I've ever seen in my life.  Eight year olds knocking the shit out of each other on the football field.  That's good, clean fun right there.  It doesn't get much gooder, cleaner or funner than that.  Are gooder and funner words?  I'm thinking no.  Whatev.  It was a blast and I'm so damn proud of my boy.

For those of you who have been following the football journey, you know that The Boy had to lose a few pounds to make the weight limit.  A few.  Like five.  Which for an eight year old is pretty significant.  Hell, for a 40 year old it's pretty significant.  But he had to lose it or he couldn't play.  Because he might crush the other skinny ass whiner babies.  So Mach One has had him on a strict diet and exercise routine.  He's a hard ass, that Mach One.  Except to me.  He's nice to me because I'll withhold sex from him if he's mean to me ~ just sayin'.  But of course, The Boy doesn't have that trump card in his back pocket so exercise he did.  To the tune of running miles around the neighborhood and miles on the treadmill.  Mach One could get a job on The Biggest Loser, no shit.  But his iron fist paid off and this morning, The Boy weighed 90.2 lbs.  The cut off was 91 lbs.  That difference is like taking a crap in the morning.  Seriously.  And believe me, Mach One tried to get The Boy to do just that.  But he's more of an afternoon, at school pooper.  Which is enough to push me right over the edge.  Despite the fact he was full of crap, he still made the weight limit.  Here are few highlights from the game...

 

Now I realize that because I grew him in my womb for the freaking better part of a year, I may be a little partial.  But damn, isn't he good looking?  He takes my breath away.

 

Here they are doing the Hokey Pokey or some shit like that.  Or maybe it's Simon Says.  Simon says, "Put your hands on your hips."  Oh look, everybody but #12 is out.  Clearly, #12 is the smartest and most attractive on the team.  And he has the thinnest mother too.

 

Hey you, #80.  Yeah you, the guy with the big, orange stick thing.  You're blocking my view of my kid.  I don't give a shit that you're marking the yardage or whatever the hell that thing does.  Move it so it doesn't look like a big bullseye right over my kid's head.  He looks like he's getting ready to do something important and I can't see a damn thing because you and your mutant lollipop are right in my way.

 

I have no idea what the hell is going on here.  That is all.  Thank you and goodnight.

 

Ok, here I'm back in my element.  I'm pretty sure ~ almost positive, in fact ~ that the referees are doing the "Soulja Boy" dance for the boys.  For those of you who aren't familiar with the Soulja Boy Dance, the refs appear to be "Supermanning that bitch."  Or they could be "Supersoaking the ho."  But I'm pretty sure they're Supermanning that bitch.  If I had to guess, I'd say that was it.  Who knew that the Soulja Boy dance was such an important part of football.  I, for one, had no clue.  Surprised, aren't you?

 

My kid is in there somewhere.  I have no idea where though.  Maybe I need to dress him up like Waldo so I can find him more easily.  I'm sure that wouldn't result in any extensive therapy in his later years, would it?

 

The winning smile.  He doesn't look like he's going to need braces does he?  Have I mentioned how damn good looking this kid is?  Just want to make sure you're listening.  The score was 6-0.  We win, the other team loses.  Yay us.

The Alpha Male

I loved him then...

 

And I love him now...

 

I. Love. Him.  And he's never getting married because he loves me the best.  And if he does get married, I already hate his wife.  Because she will never love him as much as I do. Just sayin'...

Goodbye Summer ~ We'll Miss You

Summer ~ we hardly knew ya.  Actually, we knew you quite well and enjoyed the hell out of you.  But as they say, all good things must come to an end.  Who exactly are "they?"  And what the hell do they know?  Apparently they know that summer is over and it's back to school time, baby.  As if we couldn't have figured that out.  Clearly summer hasn't figured it out since it was 90 effin' degrees today.  But despite the balmy temperatures, today was, indeed, the first day back to school.  Let me share my day with you ok?  OK!

Here's The Girl.  She's in 6th grade.  Which technically makes her in junior high.  Seriously.  I'm not old enough or freaking mature enough to have a kid in junior high ~ just sayin'.  Let me tell you a little bit about her morning.  She woke up at 6:00 am ~ we leave at 8:00 am.  What do you think she did for two hours?  She took a shower ~ which I'm all for.  I've told you that I don't like stinky ass folks, right?  Then she changed her clothes four times.  Do you notice anything about her clothes?  Like, um THEY'RE UNIFORMS FOR FUCK SAKE?  Why the hell do we have to change them 4 damn times when the next shirt looks EXACTLY like the one you just took off?  Except that it's a different color.  She opted for the light blue instead of the white because you could see her bra through the white shirt?  Who gives a shit?  It's better then seeing your boobies, right?  She wasn't amused when I said that ~ she may have even cried a little.  Whatever.  I've given birth twice and I'm pretty sure the janitorial staff at both hospitals saw my vagina.  The outline of a bra in a white shirt means nothing to me.  But I'm not 11 ~ even though I act like I am.  Once the uniform was finally approved and no undergarments were visible, she put in her contacts, ate, got the shit out of her braces and curled her hair.  Two hours was almost not enough time.  Sometimes it sucks being a girl.

Here's The Boy.  He got up at 7:00 am.  He got dressed, ate breakfast, spilled shit on his shirt, changed his shirt, brushed his teeth and tried to get his naturally curly hair to spike in front.  He accomplished all of this by 7:30 am.  I'm coming back as a boy in my next life ~ just sayin'.

The fruit of my womb.  Stunning, aren't they?  And speaking of stunning, how about those petunias?  Didn't know that JillyD had a green thumb, did ya?  I make really cute kids and I grow gorgeous petunias.  I'm a gal of many talents.  Just ask Mach One.

Why is it that I can't get enough of these pictures?  Cuz I'm an immature ass, you say?  Perhaps.  But I'm sorry, this shit cracks me up.  Here's The Boy with his classmates.  As in the kids that are in his class.  As in the kids that are in the same grade as him.  Do you see the size of his paw ~ I mean, hand?  If he was a labrador retriever puppy, he'd be a big mo-fo.  But he's a boy, not a puppy.  And he's still going to be a big mo-fo.  I'm pretty sure I don't have to worry about any bullying issues.

The Chickens.  Love them!  Apparently Banana didn't get the memo about the khaki skort and light blue shirt.  Or maybe she changed her clothes 35 times too.  There's one thing missing from this photo.  That would be SammyMaiz.  It's not quite the same without her. :-(

After the kiddies were locked away in their schoolroom dungeons, JillyD met the homies at The French Laundry for a little breakfast.  Actually it was a huge breakfast but whatever.  Yo, Weenie, JayZ, KB and Cat, just to name a few.  But there was one thing missing.  Jenni from the Hood.  I miss her.  A lot.

Sayonara, Summer.  See you next year!