پاکستان میں Mostbet com ویب سائٹ ملاحظہ کریں، اور آپ یقینی طور پر کھیلوں پر شرط لگانے یا آن لائن کیسینو میں کھیلنے کے لیے یہاں واپس آنا چاہیں گے۔ کھیلوں کے شائقین کو ایونٹس کے ایک بڑے انتخاب، مختلف پروموشنز اور بونسز، مفت بیٹس، مفت گھماؤ اور زیادہ مشکلات تک رسائی حاصل ہے۔ اور کھیل کو مزید آسان بنانے کے لیے، ہم نے ایک موبائل ایپلیکیشن تیار کی ہے جسے آپ آسانی سے اپنے فون پر انسٹال کر سکتے ہیں۔

The Weekend in Crappy Pics!

Helllllo! I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving, we certainly did!

On Wednesday, we received our first ever shitload of firewood from a nearby company, which the delivery guy said would burn “…long, hot, strong, and clean.” I thought he was flirting with me until he used the adjective ‘clean’.

This was my first time stacking wood, but judging by my “can-do” attitude, suede wedge boots, faux leopard gloves, and trusty Lil’ Red Wagon, you’d never know it.

On Thursday, we went to Brian’s parents’ house for Thanksgiving, and we had a fabulous time- the food was great, the company was great, Ana didn’t break anything that couldn’t be fixed. What more could we ask for?

It was a perfect night…until we were leaving the neighborhood and passed this:

First of all, CHRISTMAS LIGHTS ON THANKSGIVING??? Nothing pisses me off more! Unless, of course, that sonofabitch has Easter eggs stashed under his shrubs.

And secondly, those lights are on the inside of the home- the inside, people! Find me in twenty years when the authorities are looking for the “Christmas Light Strangler”, I’ll direct them to the poor kid that grew up in this house.

Then, as we turned the corner, things went from nauseating to utterly disturbing:

Umm, WTF is happening here?

Let’s take a closer, creepier look:

I’m praying it’s a Halloween costume. If so, I bet I know which house he lives in.

 

Every Black Friday is the same for us: we wake up around 8am, search the internet for the Walmart death toll, shake our heads, then put up our Christmas decorations while thanking our lucky stars that we have zero interest in getting off our lazy asses in an attempt to save a buck.

I know, for most families, the lighting of the Christmas tree signifies the beginning of the Christmas season, but we, at the One Classy Motha household, have our own way of kicking things off:

The Pull My Finger Santa

It’s a very sacred tradition.

Once the family gathers around, I gently lift Santa from his custom made, satin lined box, as each child secretly hopes they’ll be the one chosen to flip the ON switch buried in the deep recesses of his ass. This year it was Ana, and she handled the responsibility with all the grace and maturity of a 4 year old “Hey Collin, my finger’s in his buuuuttttt!”

Then, taking a cue from The Lion King, I hold a gassy St. Nick high above my head and proclaim, “And I say unto ye, let there be Christmas Farts!” My family erupts into a frenzy of cheering and fabricated fart sounds as tears of joy roll down their plump little cheeks, cutting through the pizza grease.

Then I do it. I pull Santa’s finger. AND. IT. IS. MAGICAL. “FAAART…ho ho ho, now that’s a stocking stuffer!”

Christmas has officially begun!

Occasionally, after all the hoopla dies down, Brian tries to pretend he’s above us. After watching Ana & I laugh at Santa for over 15 minutes straight on Friday night:

Brian: This whole family is disgusting! You think Pam Anderson is walking around with a Farting Santa? No! She’s busy finding ways to make her husband happy.

Me: Pam Anderson is divorced.

Brian: You think Carmen Electra is walking around with a Farting Santa? No! She’s busy finding ways to make her husband happy.

Me:…

Brian: …divorced too?

Me: Yup.

Me: Hey, maybe if they had focused more on Farting Santa and less on their husband’s happiness, they’d still be married? I think we’re doing something right.

Saturday evening, we decorated the tree. I was supposed to visit my friend afterwards but…

In case you think I’m exaggerating…

On Sunday morning, Mr. Bojangles tumbled down our steep ass stairs for the second time in a week.

Our children have been falling down the stairs for years, with my response being nothing more than a yawn and a “We should probably do something about that” But when the dog fell, I was like “Oh, hell no!” I ran right out, bought all the supplies, and laid the runner myself.

Aww, does my little Bozie Wozie feel safey wafey now?

Oh, and guess what I bought this weekend?

Scissors, you sicko.

I have a ton more pics from this week but I’m sure you have a life you need to get back to, so I’ll just leave you with this:

(Excuse my Bronchitis laugh)

[embedit snippet=”pull-my-finger-santa”]

How was your week?

It’s getting super close to Christmas! You can find the perfect PERSONALIZED holiday gifts from my sponsor GiftsForYou.com. I swear they have something in every price range!

Christmas Dinner and Ovulation Conversation.

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday! Our classy family sure did!  Here are a couple highlights:

Christmas Eve

My dad made his awesome deep fried Cajun turkey and brought it to our house for dinner, nom nom nom!  After eating, instead of singing Christmas carols in front of a roaring fire, we gathered around the glow of the computer and discussed our joint pains while submitting my mom’s application for social security benefits- because getting old sucks.

Christmas Day

My in-laws are wonderful people that tolerate, and hopefully find humor in my quirky personality. I guess I’m sorta like watching a monkey throw poop, funny as long as you’re not the target.

Anyway, we went over to their house for dinner, along with Brian’s brothers and their families.  I really tried my best, but it only took 1 cosmo for me to instigate a not-so-classy conversation.

What started as a debate about whether or not hot sauce needed to be refrigerated evolved into a conversation about why raising chickens in our spare bedroom for the purpose of egg production might be a bad idea.  How does that happen you ask?

Brother-in-law: Hot sauce doesn’t need to be refrigerated. You know, eggs don’t need to be refrigerated either.

Me: Yes, I heard that. We eat about 6 eggs per day and spend a ton on them each week. How much does a chicken cost?  I think I’ll buy a chicken.

Brother-in-law: Did you know you can order them online from all over the world? There are websites that show pictures of various chickens, organized by breed and characteristics.

Brian: Like a mail-order-bride, but for chickens?

Me: Would I have to specify if I was a breast or leg man?

Father-in-law:  I’m sure your HOA doesn’t allow poultry. I’d be shocked if they did.

Me: Maybe if I said she was a pet? I could get her a collar with the name tag “Clucky” and walk her around the block…on a leash.

Someone (?): Nah, you’d have to hide her.

Me: Well, we do have a spare bedroom.  It’s currently Brian’s office but he could relocate or share the space.

Brother-in-law: Chicken feed is pretty expensive & according to your egg consumption, you’d need at least 6 chickens.

Sister-in-law: Chickens are dirty and crap a lot.

Me: And I already hate cleaning the litter box.  Hmmm, maybe I’ll just keep buying my eggs from Costco.

Brother-in-law: Yeah, I think that’s your best option.

Me: But what do you guys think about a duck? We never use our jacuzzi tub.

We then went on to compare chicken eggs to human ovulation.  And I might have informed everyone that my cramps & bitchiness would be unbearable if I had to lay a huge egg each month.

Before you judge: I’m sure this is a common dinner topic for the Perdue family.

After dinner the desserts were brought out.  I noticed no one was touching these…

and that’s because everyone suspected they were dog treats, you know, based on the dog bone shape and all.  My mother-in-law swore that they were sugar cookies. I’m guessing we made her regret using that cutter (which I’m sure was sold as part of a “Make Your Own Dog Treat” kit).  So in order to be both helpful and to diminish all confusion, I took the liberty of  breaking and reshaping each one…

I’m like the Edward Scissorhands of cookies.

But still, no one ate them. Puzzling.

__________________________________________________________

This post is dedicated to my imagined chicken “Clucky” and to what could have been.  Dreamers keep on dreaming…unless it involves cleaning up a lot of shit.

Tips for Tuesday! Arts & Crap Holiday Project

Today I’m going to show you how to make a beautiful and simple holiday arrangement.  It’s the perfect gift to give to your babysitter, your kid’s teacher, the lady who waxes your bikini area – basically anyone who deserves more than a card but less than a kidney.

And the best part, it can be made with everyday items that you probably have laying around your house.

Let’s get started!

Supplies

1. a clear liquor bottle (vodka, dark rum, whiskey, etc)

2. maxi pads / panty liners

3. blue construction paper

4. a branch from the back of your Christmas tree

5. scissors

 

 

Steps

1.  Empty your clear liquor bottle…

 and remove the label.

*For instructions on “how to remove labels”, visit a Martha Stewart tutorial or something and come back here.

2.  Tightly roll up the blue construction paper and insert into the bottle.

3.  remove the backing of the maxi pads and apply horizontally around the bottom half of the bottle, creating a soft snowy ground against the blue sky.

4.  Using panties liners, cut out snowflakes or stars.  Remove the backings and apply them to the bottle.

5.  Remove a limb from your Christmas tree or outdoor bush and insert into the bottle.

6.  Write a seasonal message in the snow to your special someone.  I recommend using a festive red marker.  Remember, if you’re using an extra absorbency pad, you’ll probably need to write the message over and over again until it no longer disappears.

7.  Decorate your tree!  You might want to consider using ornaments, pictures, or battery operated lights.  The kids and I decided it would be fun to add faux icicles.

 

Happy Holidays, Mrs. McGurtle!

This project makes a great alternative to the scented candles and coffee mugs.  It truly says “From our dysfunctional home to yours!”

 

 

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