I will cut a bitch

DON'T   TOUCH   MY   DAMN   PIE ! 

I make stellar deserts, cakes, chocolates, candies, cookies, pies.  I'm really awesome.  I make them for people who need a pick me up.  I make them for birthdays, favors and gifts.

Sometimes I make a cake or pie for no special reason other than the wonderful smell and the fact I know someone will smile when I offer them a piece ( or 2).

One of the best parts of making pies, is sharing them.  I love to share my pies.  I will share an entire pie, not even keeping a slice for myself.  It's easy for me to make a pie, maybe not so easy for them.

However.   I will not have anyone  break into my house and steal my pie or even a piece of it.  I will stab them with a batter beater, or shoot them with a deadly spit ball fired at lightening speed.  

Seriously,  I will make pies if I have ingredients and time and skill,  and I will give them to family, friends, strangers and give the whole pie or the last slice.  But don't fucking tell me who get's my pie.  

If you can see the logic behind the above Pie story.  I hope with all my heart you understand exactly what is happening in our country.

You work for the money to buy the ingredients,   you work to bake the pie, and then, in front of your face, a stranger will walk in and take then entire damn pie.

It could be a murderer or a drug dealer, or a construction worker turned rouge burglar since jobs are short, and frankly just walking in my house and taking the pie without permission is a helluva lot easier than  carrying a kabillion tons of shingles up and down a ladder in the blazing sun.  Stealing the pie so much easier.

So we change the law so that it's no longer illegal to break and enter if you are only burgling pies. Because honestly everyone,  everyone deserves a pie,  what kind of monster thinks that they deserve a pie and someone else doesn't?   My god think of the children who have no pie.  it's in the damn constitution,  equal pie for everyone.  ( except for the bitch who made it)...

I'm too tired to fight, and can't stand the constant going without once my pies are stolen.  It's hard work,  I mean it costs money for the ingredients so we have to work, and then I have to shop, oh how I hate walmart.  Then making and cooking the pie, and the dishes oi vay!  I hate dishes.   Plus I have been making all these pies and all these people are taking them since it's legal and they deserve pies so my family hasn't actually gotten to eat a pie in months.  It seems like everyone has pie all the time, except us, no matter how many I bake.

Eventually all the other pie makers will become unhappy that they forgot what pie tastes like even if they bake 15 a day...  So slowly, one by one..  We each stop making pies.

OMG it's so awesome.   Since we stopped making pies,  I have been able to walk in and just take a pie from a stranger.  It's so awesome, so easy, and costs nothing.   WHY THE HELL HAVE I BEEN BAKING ALL THESE PIES FOR YEARS..

I was so stupid, I will never make a pie again, making pies is for pie suckers !  hahahah.  suckers...

( I hope they don't all wise up and stop,  but they probably will, because they are evil and don't care about all of us that have a right to a pie...   but I'm sure the Government will make sure we all get out pies from somewhere,  and it won't cost anyone anything.

it's like pie- fucking- magic....   free pie fucking magic.

Awesome.  I'm sure this will work out just fine.

xoxo
PEACH OUT

Another Brick on the Wall

Hey guess what my kid just got a 4 year full ride sport scholarship to a major U.

Guess what everyone of you were silently either high fiving me or you virtual hate meter was on the rise.  Why?

Hey guess what my daughter is graduating in May with her second college degree, is on the Deans list a class load so heavy she has to get department approval and works 40 hours a week on top of it to put herself through school while paying her college to minimize the life time she will be forever in debt with what is known as student loan hell.

Which do I get know the five or the finger?  Ok

Hey guess what, my 9 year old d4th grader just "voluntarily" participated in a Science fair for his school since it's not required here until " higher grades"  He walked away with more ribbons than a prize heifer at the state fair.  He goes as the overall winner to Regionals.  We have  to pay registration, travel, provide our own table, and he will set 9 hours on the floor next to his project.  Oh wait did I mention we have already been told he can't go any further than Regionals because he's too young?

Five or finger? Almost there?

Today is 4th grade state exams, you know the ones required by the laws that govern our education.  It is so important that an automated phone message went out to all parents.  It said something like: make sure your child goes to bed early, gets good sleep,  eats breakfast at home.  All children will need to be to school early, and all children will be taken to the cafeteria for breakfast before class.  So even if your child eats at home you may want to send "extra" money for them to eat.  "Unless they already receive free or reduced meals"


where we at here?  1 more?

Last night my 9 year old fourth grade had his 3rd baseball practice, which is kid pitch minor leagues here.  His first practice was 1 hour, his second practice was at nearly 3,  and tonight for his third practice we skirmished a neighboring rival town but did not keep score,  we got there at 5pm, the game started at 630pm. By the time we got home crammed what would be considered a dinner in some 3rd world countries hosed him off and got uniforms and lunches packed made him cool down and rubbed his legs and arms with icy hot,  it is considerably later than his usual bedtime.  95% of both teams have these tests tomorrow and both coaches have kids on the teams and knew about the tests.

Ok so where am I sitting on your finger scale? am I getting 5 up high or a single soldier telling me to shut up.


Here's the deal folks 1 of those scenarios was complete and utter bullshit.

Since I live in the United States, and then deep south I will totally let you guess which ones are the sad educational truth here.

We don't raise rocket scientist here people, we raise HERO's.  You know like Brett "ThePhone" Farve?  Yeah we get to claim him.  Shut up I know we are lucky right?   Lucky like a $5.00 hooker on penny night at the local dive.

Why?

Ask Floyd baby,  " we don't need no education"  ( as long as you can play sports)


XO


PEACH OUT

Now in return for your reading the post from a competitive softball player and cheerleader turned coach, who drank her way through college and married a guy with the athletic DNA of Steve Urkle I give you a little pleasure.

Yeah you enjoy that mkay...

Dear Wife:
I'm writing you this letter to tell you that I'm leaving you forever. I've been a good man to you for 7 years & I have nothing to show for it. These last 2 weeks have been hell. Your boss called to tell me that you quit your job today & that was the last straw. Last week, you came home & didn't even notice I had a new haircut, had cooked your favorite meal & even wore a brand new pair of silk boxers. You ate in 2 minutes, & went straight to sleep after watching all of your soaps. You don't tell me you love me anymore; you don't want sex or anything that connects us as husband & wife. Either you're cheating on me or you don't love me any more; whatever the
case, I'm gone.

Your EX-Husband

P.S don't try to find me. Your SISTER & I are moving away to W est Virginia together! Have a great life!

--------------- ------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Ex-Husband:

Nothing has made my day more than receiving your letter. It's true you & I have been married for 7 years, although a good man is a far cry from what you've been. I watch my soaps so much because they drown out your constant whining & griping. Too bad that doesn't work. I DID notice when you got a hair cut last week, but the 1st thing that came to mind was 'You look just like a girl!' Since my mother raised me not to say anything if you can't say something nice, I didn't comment.

When you cooked my favorite meal, you must have gotten me confused with MY SISTER, because I stopped eating pork 7 years ago. About those new silk boxers: I t urned away from you because the $49.99 price tag was still on them, & I prayed it was a coincidence that my sister had just borrowed $50 from me that morning. After all of this, I still loved you & felt we could work it out. So when I hit the lotto for 10 million dollars, I quit my job & bought us 2 tickets to Jamaica , but when I got home you were gone. Everything happens for a reason, I guess. I hope you have the fulfilling life you always wanted. My lawyer said that the letter you wrote ensures you won't get a dime from me. So take care.

Your Ex-Wife, Rich as Hell & Free!

P.S. I don't know if I ever told you this, but my sister Carla was born Carl. I hope that's not a problem .




OH how I love things like this....


XO

PEACH OUT

Welcome to the family, finally....

Dear House-

I remember when I used to dream about you. Living in a camper with my kids working 2 jobs and going to college.  

I remember going through tons of blueprints, looking for what would become our home one day. 

I remember planning in advance so the house would ALWAYS work for us. ( because nursing homes always smell like poo)

I remember when you were being built and how I told everyone that I just wanted you done, and then they would have to pry the keys from my dead hands to get me out, using a couple tow trucks.

I remember picking out furniture that would make each room "just right"  and when we ran out of money and credit dropping into Guidos rent to own.

I remember allowing each kid to actually paint and furnish their own rooms ( finally)  ( see huge mistake).

I remember how I wouldn't let the Droid mount a dish on you or put an antenna up on you because for a Geek he can go all Jed Clampet

I remember how you let me sleep in my daughters room the first 2 weeks she was gone to college and her bed wraps around you like a burrito shell.

I remember how proud I was that I had double equity in you over your debt because I did things the right way,  boy was that glory short lived

I remember you taking a beating during a 2005 hurricane season.  That's when I found out you didn't have wood under your siding, and your chimney was toe-nailed on by 3 nails. 

I remember the kids being proud to bring their friends to see you because it wasn't a camper and there weren't any wheels under you or anything.

I remember hearing a violin, a trumpet, drums, and singing bellow from the upstairs, which was torture beyond all belief sort of like a bag of kittens being beaten with a hammer.

I remember the first hole in our wall and the time I flooded the master suite and closets so bad we had to tear out the carpet, the "first " time I flooded it.  why has no one invented a your shit is about to overfill alarm ( consider that idea copyrighted as of this second people)

and now you are just a filthy  banged up in need of attention money sucking, upside down huge mortgage having pain in my ass.

I am so glad you stopped out shinning me and decided you wanted to be more like me.  every level of fucked up.

Welcome to the family you big piece of shit.

No idea who to credit for this since a reader sent it to me. Thanks you rock,
Also did you notice we make our house wear the red shirt on  away missions, heh. stupid house.

XO 


PEACH OUT

Pretty sure I have a fucking brain cloud.

OK if you don't watch scrubs first fuck you, because it was awesome, also now it's on really late in re runs so that means you don't suffer from insomnia  so chances are you don't have a damn brain cloud so screw you.

But they had this one episode where this chick heard everything as a musical and it was super freaking hilarious that was until they found out she had a brain tumor.  Which I will call a Brain Cloud because I loved Joe and the Volcano and if you don't know that movie well then double fuck off because that means your probably younger than me and I hope you order a hot fudge sundae and it's really hot and sticks to the roof of your mouth and shit. Because clearly I am having issue with my Brain cloud. Clearly I must have one.

The obvious evidence I have one is that I have found myself singing everything to myself to remember shit.

The problem is it is not a show tune.  I guess this means I am not gay, which is a bummer, because as a chick I would love to be gay because there are some seriously hot chicks I would love to get to at least 3rd base with and I love hot shoes and hooker boots and fake eyelashes and doing the super model stomp and flipping my hair around and acting like a diva.  OH HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE.  As a chick I can do that without being gay right?  SA-WEET!  I feel much better about not being gay but I am still bummed about the idea of living with this fucking brain cloud and singing everything to myself.

All last month I constantly sang the song " think of me, think of me fondly" whenever left a room or told someone good bye.  Now that may sound funny.  To me it was,  but to everyone else it wasn't probably because my singing is like a bag of kittens being beaten with the hammer of Thor.  But at least it was a theme right?  I mean it served a purpose and didn't point towards a BRAIN CLOUD !

But this past weekend I caught myself singing instructions to myself at every turn. To 1 particular tune.
"Get your panties on."    "Put the clothes in dryer."   "Load the dish   washer"    "Feed the fucking dogs."    "Shut the backdoor now."    " Open  power bill"    "put phone on charger"

WHAT THE FUCK IS WAPNER ON AT 5PM?  HOW MANY TOOTHPICKS ARE IN THAT BOX? DO  I NEED MY UNDERWEAR FROM K-MART?    

"I    AM      IRON    MAN"

holy bob, I have a brain cloud,  I am not only talking to myself, I am singing reminders of mundane tasks to myself, while sober to the tune of fucking iron man.  That's it woman,  it's over,  you have done what can not be undone.  To much radon, or florecent lighting, or mt dew, or whatever. Just get some big ass luggage,  and fling your fat ass in a volcano for the good of mankind.    

Don't  bother sending help, I fear I am too far gone already.

XO

PEACH OUT

YOU WRITE HERE ! - A guest Post !

I received a submission for the "YOU WRITE HERE"  anonymous bloggers vent arena on this blog.  A place they can come, free of trolls to say what needs to be said, where their readers wont be shattered when their persona is thrown on the ground and trampled with crocs.    So today you get a break from my self deprecating humor, potty mouth, and physical threats to innocents.  I think most of us can relate to my Guest who I expect you treat with the utmost respect or I will spork your ass.
Thanks.

xo


PEACH OUT

I hate being strong

Everyone I know sees me as a "strong" person.  It has its blessings and it definitely has its curses.  I usually don't let on about what I feel sucks as far as being perceived as "strong."  That would fuck with my "bad ass" persona.

But, Peachy is kind enough to lend a spot to those of us who need to let it out - so I'm going to take advantage of her generosity.

I hate being strong because it means I am always expected to solve the damned problems, when sometimes all I want to do is fade into the background with all of the other sheep.  

I hate being strong because it means I'm the "go to" person, when sometimes I'd like to kick back and let OTHER people do the work. 

   

I hate being strong because it means having to come up with the "right" answers when all I feel like I do is "fake it till I make it."  

I hate being strong because it means people think I have no weaknesses - but they don't know how ONE sideways word can throw me into a mental tizzy for days. 

 

I hate being strong because people grow to depend on you - and it's a mother fucker being on your game 100% of the time.  

I hate being strong because of the EXPECTATIONS that come along with it - I can't fuck up.

I act like I don't give a shit about a lot of things - and to a certain extent, I am able tonot care too much about what people I barely know think about me.  But, people that I let "in" to know me - I care what they think.  I don't trust very easily.  And while my "outward" personality screams "EXTROVERT!" - few people know that I spend a lot of time inside my head and have a really hard time letting anyone get "close" to me.  I think that's probably why I have a hard time with relationships.  I come off as this "strong" personality - and I rarely let myself be vulnerable.  Because when you're vulnerable - people can (and WILL) hurt you.  Not too many people know the true extent of "hurt" I have endured in my lifetime.  I don't give that information out freely.  

My walls have cost me a lot, relationship-wise.  My mother once told me, "You're such a bitch no one is ever going to marry you!"  When you're 19 and you hear that, you don't care so much.  It's amusing.  But when you're 28 and feeling the pressure to get hitched to the dildo you've been dating for 3 years so that you don't look like a "failure" - those words your mother uttered nearly a decade prior ring in your ears like the gong show.  I got married when I knew I shouldn't have.  I remember thinking on the morning of my wedding day (at age 29), as I sat in the pool at this fancy hotel, "I wonder how many years we'll actually stay married before we get divorced."  Bad sign.  But, I got married nevertheless...just to prove a point:  someone DID marry the bitch.

I hate being strong, because from that marriage sprung this little being - who is totally dependent on me.  I didn't plan on having kids, and the truth is, I really feel like I'm a pretty selfish and self-absorbed person - so I didn't actually want kids.  Neither did my husband.  He was rather peeved when the news was delivered to him.  Not exactly jumping for joy - but my parents were - because, again, it was another source of "failure" to not deliver a grandchild after 3 years of marriage.  From that point on, I knew that I would be the parent who was most responsible for the "parenting" of this little being.  And I was right.  That husband "lasted" just about seven years (not including the four years we spent together BEFORE we got married).  Now, one child and one divorce later, I bear the full burden of making sure that the little person doesn't grow up to be a serial killer.  It's a fucking drag sometimes.  Don't get me wrong, I love my kid, but being the SOLE person responsible for ensuring that a person gets instilled with all of the shit they need to become a worthwhile human being...that pressure is immense.  And sometimes I don't want that pressure.  Sometimes I want to scream, "Why should I have to be the one to deal with all of this shit?"  Oh, because the child's father isn't terribly invested...and I am the "strong" one, after all.  Nobody questions my ability to handle all of this...but me.

I question myself all of the time.  I wonder what the hell makes people think I can handle the stress, the pressure, the challenge, blah, blah, blah.  They don't know that I pray for strength.  I pray for guidance.  I pray for luck.  I wish for help.  I wish for support.  I wish for relief.  And some days, I wish to just be left the fuck alone.  Some days, I wish to BE that wallflower that blends into the background.  They sure do seem to have it a lot easier.  No expectations.  No disappointment if they don't do something spectacular.  Some days - I'm quite sure that ignorance ain't got nothing on bliss as far as "mediocrity" is concerned.

Sometimes I find myself so envious - envious of married people, envious of divorced people whose ex-spouses play a huge part in their kids'lives, envious of people without kids, envious of people who have never been married and have no intentions of getting married, envious of people with large extended families around them, envious of people with NANNIES AND HOUSEKEEPERS!

But, when all is said and done...I do what I always do.  I let my "strong" self take over and just handle what needs to be handled.  Someone once said to me that God will only give you what you can handle.  Sometimes I wish he didn't trust me so much.  

Faking it till I make it.

A little salt with that?

When dinosaurs roamed the earth, I went to this place called school.  Yes it's true my last 2 years of High School I skipped more than I attended but that's what happens when you place a high school close enough to Dayton Beach that I can smell that salt water.

I am sure it had little to do with the fact I turned my trunk into a cooler with roll out insulation and garbage bags, and the days I did attend I was so drunk I couldn't stand up. I had understanding teachers and went to school in the days that it was ok to tie up your principal and throw desks out a window.  It was a time before no child left behind or zero tolerance.

Somewhere around the Mesozoic era I taught, yes me, shut up, I did it for 1 year and it was in exchange for my children's tuition at private school.  My oldest son was sighted as the reason that a teacher quit in her letter of resignation and moving to Iceland.  I don't blame her, I almost removed my reproductive organs with a spork after he was born.  But that was long ago and I have blocked it out with much effort and expensive vodka.

My husband the Droid has a higher advanced math Degree, Metorology and a couple Computer whatevers, and I have a couple under my belt not to mention the Prince is our 3rd go around, and literally the easiest child on the planet to raise or teach.  So when this year, Mr.  Good Citizenship.  Student of the Year,  Good Conduct, winner of the Regional Physics Science Fair,  A Honor Roll brought home his 4th C on a test in math we were how do you say..... " pissed".

After the mandatory parental lectures a conference was requested.  Then we looked through his folder and saw that 7x7=49 was wrong and 7x3=21 was wrong and   12x2=24 is wrong.

Well suck my imaginary dick and color me confused.   Clearly there was an error in the grading. No biggie we will straighten this out in a jiffy lube.

So we get there 15 minutes early and wait 30 minutes because she apparently had to tweet or what the hell ever because it was her break.  Then the cram my fat ass and my husbands 6'5 ass in the tiniest chairs you have ever seen while she and her cohort sit in normal adult chairs.

* Note- this was a power technique we used in psychology and GVT to keep the upper hand,  and control of the situation.  It didn't work since she is the same age of my daughter and I felt I didn't need control.

So we begin with how is he in the class, are there any problems?  blah blah, yackity yak, blah.  Then we say we are concerned as he has brought home 4 C's and he has never had below an A, and this is the foundation to the rest of his education and we want to make sure he understands here so that he doesn't fall behind, is he understanding in class, paying attention turning in work, what can we do to work as a team blah.

TEACHER-  your son is absolutely the sweetest child ever, I adore him, don't even worry about the grades, he is a doll baby.

ME:  well if this was the doll baby acadamy I wouldn't but it's a school so I am worried about the grades, for example I think there is an issue with the grading on this test, example 12x2=24  is marked wrong so is 7x3=21 and so on.

TEACHER ( looks at us like we are morons)=  yes, those are wrong,  a LOT of the OLDER parents have an issue understanding new math,  we don't waste time memorizing multiplication anymore, we now estimate, he didn't estimate, so they are wrong.

HUSBAND-  ( about to lose higher math mensa IQ shit)-  excuse me, did you just say "waste time learning multiplication?   are you aware they are called math FACTS?   it's because it's a fact, not a theory or opinion, they don't change, also how can they divide, if they can't multiply?  also no where do the instruction say "estimate" those "x"  symbols mean multiply in mathematics.

TEACHER- ( wont make eye contact with husband anymore and looks at me)  your son knows this we learned this in class, so he knew what to do, and knows why he got it wrong.

ME- Well with us being OLDER parents, with HIGHER DEGREES, we are probably confusing him by making him learn things like multiplication and such, so I would like him to enter your tutoring program immediately.

TEACHER- OH, well that's for kids who are failing.

ME- ok I will tell him to stop turning in homework or answering any questions, since we are old and dumb. Also do you like chair with salt?

TEACHER-   excuse me?

ME-  I am just wondering if you want salt on that chair if I make you fucking eat it if you call me old again?

TEACHER-  OH I didn't mean it like that.

ME- I did.

End result.  My kid went to that teachers tutoring for 6 weeks 3 days a week, and fell off honor roll for the first time in 5 years,  yep,  he went from 5 years of straight A's to 1 A,  3 B's an 2 C's,   can you spell A-W-E-S-O-M-E?

Probably not if you're an old parent,  because even as an old parent he was still on honor roll all A honor roll, possibly looking at a B in one subject.  But Thankfully we put him in tutoring so he was able to be fully submerged in that awesome learning system and we stepped out of the equation as to not confuse him with our old and dusty out of date thoughts that the teacher pointed out would only " mislead him". Now he has horrible grades.  How cool is that?


XO


PEACH OUT

Dry Hump Day

Happy Dry Hump Day yall

I got 2 awards yesterday.  Both from guys?  Dig that.  

1 from Oil Field Trash at  http://make-daddy-a-sammich.blogspot.com

and the other from

@Grocery_Dad  at  http://grocerydad.blogspot.com/

As usual I suck and fail and have a high rate at losing these things I will slap them up in the trophey case over at http://www.beingpeachy.com  Thanks guys, YOU ROCK.

Here's your Dry Hump Day Chuckles.

********************************

A man was sitting on the porch with his wife and he says "I love you."

She asks "Is that you or the beer talking?"

He replies,  "It's me.......talking to the beer."”

**************************************

*****************************************************************

Enjoy 

XO

PEACH OUT

Oh Dear Mr Wizard behind the Curtain can you help us?

Now those are kick ass Ruby slippers YO!

Update-  Just 1.5 miles from the Wizards office I received a phone call that my appointment had been cancelled.   Which is cool I guess, and by cool I mean, hell yeah who the hell really wants to go through that shit, but sucks because just last week  when I went to another Dr's appointment I got to his office like 5 minutes before my appointment.  I waited in line to be checked in, the girl had to take a phone call which entailed her sending a fax ( yes they still use a fax machine) and then pulling a chart and then she finally called me up to check me in. When she was done checking me in I was 5-8 minutes late for my appointment, she called the Dr in the back office and they billed me as a no show and I had to be rescheduled  to punish me for not being "early enough".

The Point is, it's a double standard.  Would you take this shit from a car salesman?   How about your CPA?  No you wouldn't.  It's not really health care.  It's health industry and I can give you a solid guarantee on a satin  pillow that not one of those fucktards give a flying fuck if I live or die or about my quality of life. They simply care about billable hours, and and how fast the numbers come through.  Period.  They have student loans to pay, enormous malpractice insurance and boy do they need that shit.  Why if the fucking  nutsucking cat shit for brains weren't located on a military base I would have 13 law suits against them in the past month alone.  Check it, I am not even exaggerating for a change.  

They are brilliant.   And by brilliant I mean  just as fucking awesome as the feeling you get when you drank way way way too much hard liquor and the next day you can't get off the toilet and your sure your asshole is on fire and your releasing your vital organs straight out your anus.

So thank you non health care.

Oh on the upside, I don't have  a  prostrate,  ( sorry to the people that do).  I am sure the military will get confused and try to electrocute that also.

xo

PEACH OUT

Plug me in bitch

Don't you hate it when.

Some one cuts you off in traffic

A teacher calls you old

A kid bullies your kid

Your spouse is a douche

Your friend is an asshole

Your sibling is a piece of shit

Your doctor says they are going to hook wires to your body an run a bunch of electricity through your body to find out if your nerves are working right by shocking the living fuck out of you because they aren't but they don't know how bad it is and even though they can't fucking fix it they have figured out how to measure just how fucked up you are and this will cause you " a measurable amount of discomfort"  but " they can not give you anything to help reduce the discomfort or it will skew the test" .

Oh yeah I fucking hate it when that happens.


Fuck you doctors, and fuck you Monday.

I'm selling parts of my husband on ebay

I have never listed anything on ebay.  But then the other day my " taking shit" meter got full.

Instead of breaking shit that I would have to replace in this economy I decided to just start selling parts of him he doesn't really use, because well really it's not like we need them right?


At first I listed it with a starting bid of $200 and a sell now of $1500, that way no ding a ling would actually buy it forcing me to paint some damn processing chip and use the postal service and all that shit.

Then I realized I was missing an opportunity.  DUH.

So I dropped the price, and donated a portion of the proceeds to the disaster in Japan.  So I actually hope this baby freaking moves.

I shit you not it has not been janked by ebay yet.

So since Ebay has not caught on I am selling my husbands none used body parts I am thinking of starting to sell more, you know in the name of charity.  Let's see where this goes.  Also don't forget I wear pj's to the post office and write shit like

" Zombie Apocalypse plan enclosed"

on everything I am forced to mail. I did find out if you write, "this totally does not contain human organs"  your package will not be delivered, apparently the post office is a bit more " stringent than ebay"  uptight mother truckers. 

HERE'S THE ACTUAL AD ON EBAY !

So go bid freely,  you never know what will extra little bonus of PeachPit glory will be included as memorabilia.   Also you will be literally forcing me to go to the Post Office in my PJ''s since I am holding tight to my 2011 PJ pledge.  

XO

PEACH OUT

Get your God off my DNA

I had this super long bitchin post about a bunch of shit that would probably piss only me off.

Then I woke up for no good reason super early and saw it failed to automatic post  like it always freaking does for this stupid blogspot crap which is why I love having my own domain but I ended up wanting both so I could make an attempt to split up my multiple personalities so my head would quite down. ( if I sound like Charlie Sheen there, it's because he got some of his God DNA on my Cheesecake DNA)  {disclaimer- that was my 1 mandatory mention of him today. unless I see something spectacular}  So I trashed it like a bitching rock stair from Mars and now I have this.




The question is what aren't we going to do today..

Wait, I got Mardi Gras starting this weekend never mind.

If my cat disappears can someone give me a solid alibi?

Than you for funny cards from Spain.

I really would like a Pauls Pastry King Cake for Breakfast today.

Because she is such a total bitch

Come here little doggey look what Uncle Ed's got for you you little fucker.

Or 10 boxes of girl scout cookies.

Hair everywhere. Plus she is like a teenager, aloof and shit without paying rent.

Something d-ooooooooooo economics?

Did you know  in the States it was started in Alabama?  It involved cow bells.

How long do they live?

Central Park in Fall

But not the Coconut kind.  ( ick)



XO


PEACH OUT

THEY STOLE MY DICK DICK !

I have been a bit "AWOL" and rumors flew around the internet like panties at a VanHalen Concert. I had seriously awesome guest posters cover both blogs and now owe them most of my internal organs not ravaged by alcohol/stupidity or both ( note- I do not poses enough organs that meet the criteria so repayment will be based upon the amount of door to door salesmen that stumble by my house).

We all know I avoid rarely go into public, because it's against my religion  lawyers advice.   Unfortunately in the last 15 days I have HAD to go into public a lot, like nearly every day. For things I didn't want anyway, so I was already all grouchy and stuff.

I noticed about day 3 that one of my tires was going low,  I kept airing it up and  trudging on. Around Day six, I decided I better get a new tire or I would end up in a ditch in deliverance country and have to chew my own leg off to survive and be haunted by banjo music.

Mistake 1-  getting dressed and leaving the house to get tire fixed.  It just pretty much went downhill from there.

I go to the tire shop and they give me an estimate.  I remind them I would like the cheapest possible tire since they had a sign that said " we do not accept lap dances as payment". 

I left for a couple hours and walked back.  I handed them my credit card they swiped, I signed, walked out.

Walking to the car I look down at the little bitty crappy out of ink credit card recipet and my brain nearly shut down.  $375?  WTF?   They said around  $75.   So I round my P.O.S. looking to see if I have all new tires, nope, in fact they didn't even put the hub cap thing back on the tire they replaced.

Steaming pissed and in total disbelief I climb into my crappy van with empty mc griddle wrappers and jam my freakin key in the ignition contimplating  what the bail would be if I went back in there with a tire iron and had my bill adjusted.

I slam the POS into R.

OH HELL NO Y'ALL.

My freaking GPS is GONE.   

Yes the one I lovingly call Dick Dick, and  he returns by constantly telling me to "turn around" , "turn around", " turn around".  The little electronic male co-Pilot that proudly proclaims, " you are at your destination"  when I am in the middle of a field or on the top of a bridge.

THEY TOOK MY DICK DICK !!!!!!!!!!!!

Like a freaking steaming ranting Loony Toon  I don't even know if I put the damn car back in park, but I bailed and and headed in the Tire Place like Bull with a bee in my bonnet.

Being the shrinking violet I am. I butted my way to the front of the line saying things like, "sorry, they owe me a kiss"  or  "excuse me but I have to get my panties back."

The guy at the counter see's me and my apparently has been in a relationship with an insane red head because as I neared the counter he took a deep breath and stepped back.

him- Can I help you?

me- Yeah you can kiss me since you fucked me.

him- uh

me- oh yeah can I see your stapler?

him- uhm yes mama

me- now whose the SOB with the new GPS?

him- uhm mama? I uhm,  let me get you a manager.

me- Yeah tell him to bring me my panties, k bitch?

Mangager-  Mama is there a problem?

me- Dude I am about to go all fuckin wild eyed ass kicking up here, first you ass fuck me by charging me $375 for "A" TIRE?  the blue book on that piece of shit isn't $375!!!  Then as a wipe your dick on the curtains bonus one of your dudes steals my GPS.

Manager- why don't we go in the office.

me- why don't you just fuck me some more right here in front of all your customers pussy boy.

Manager- I am going to need you to calm down can I see your receipt?

me- I'm gonna need to shove this fucking stapler up some bodies ass, you have 5 seconds to pick the victim.

I ball up my reciept and throw it at him,  take a step out the door and call my husband to prep him to get bail money.

He answers his WORK phone and I begin to scream in the phone the insane situation and that I am indeed going to go to jail but I am taking out a couple of these bitches on the way.  They fucking charged us $375 for a tire and stole my DICK DICK!!!!!

He waits for me to finish my cussing ass fucking with a stapler need bail money tyraid. I finally take a breath and I hear multiple male snickers.  Shit I'm on the fucking speaker? 

Calmly says, " honey I am in a meeting but you do realize that you loaned your GPS to your friend in December when he was moving to Utah right?"

shit.....

I walk back in the entire customer base is cowering like I am some masked bank robber and a couple of them are on board.  When the manager points out that I was only charged $75 but due to their being low on ink ( not my poor eyesight) I had confused  the $ with a 3.

I had nothing. Nothing but my quick thinking and tricks from blog land.  So stealing a page from the queen of all excuses, PAM the BBF of Holly.  I grabbed my forehead and loudly, "OMG my blood sugar, it's my blood sugar somebody get me a mint !"  and collapsed into a chair.

I was offered a mint and a coke. I took 2 sips and said, " OMG I feel so much better wow.  What happened?  Holy cow, is my car ready? oh it is? thank you so much you have done a wonderful job."

Then I  Tyra Banks style stomped throwing hips around like I was on the run way from the building to my waiting chariot of shame and sped off.  Like a freaking Diva.

Yeah it's probably a really really good idea not to let me out in public much.

xo

PEACH OUT

*Disclaimer*- no one actually got assfucked with a stapler. However I did make them chocolated dipped fruit, home made cookies, homemade bannana bread and delivered them with a letter of apology, which I signed with a fake name.

falling down

There is no explanation of what has happened over the last few days to make me into this

I am a humor blogger, your laugh booty call.  So instead of doing nothing more than airing a shit ton of personal insanity dirty laundry.  I opt to skip out. To fall down.  Honestly I wish I had the balls of the guy in falling down.  Far too many people need a wake up call.  But also instead of being like him I am actually like  this

But with less money, cameras, make up and fake nails,and I hope a hella lot less crazy.

I know you come here for the funny, which means I am not holding up my end of the bargain. I do apologize but if I tried to spit out some bullshit funny post today it would turn out like Brittaney shaving her fucking head and you would just be seriously confused.  So I opted to step out from behind my curtain of protection and be honest.  Right now my fucked up meter is reading full, and my sanity and humor meter is running on empty.
If you don't come back I get it.  I don't need or want your sympathy I dropped the ball. My job was to provide you with a laugh or a hell yeah, but I am fresh out.
Well except for this which sort of fits the mood perfectly.





This is probably the best EVER therapy session on the planet.  At least in my opinion, which is why I don't have one.



xo


PEACH OUT

an Ode To Wednesdays and all it's labels

It's Wednesday.  I will honor all the labels we have for today.


WTG Wednesday-

Thank you for beating Justin Bieber, you are like David, or you give one hella blow job! Either way WTG !

 WTF Wednesday-

YOU FAILED TO PARENT, WHILE YOU MILKED THE MONEY COW! DUH!

Hump Day

You go Big guy we are all pulling for you!

Dry Hump Day

so many dry hump scenes in this  movie - Couples Retreat. 

  Wordless Wednesday 

XO


PEACH OUT

Knights in Shining Armor or Asshats in TinFoil

MONDAY  AND VALENTINES DAY?

DOUBLE WHAMMY !   Today you seriously need back up.  It's one of the most emotional days combined with a Monday.  For a very few the Holiday will over ride the sheer shitness that is in fact a Monday for others, the Holiday will slam this Monday into the halls of fantastical give me a second bottle of wine while I cry fame.

Could fate have lined up a more perfect slap in the face than aligning these 2 dates?   Oh my dears I will try to help you here, but you will need the force  as you watch that chick in the office who is a schmuck get roses or whatever else she doesn't deserve , and the twit be presented with a new ring even though you sit there knowing you are worth 10 fold more than that.

Unless you are the one that gets them and everyone at work will then hate you.

It's a no win situation.

I have been on both sides of this over the massive amount of years I have stumbled around this planet as the owner of a pair of boobs.

I know you are thinking OMG I bet ThePeachy1 is just always flooded with love and adoration from those in her real life so lucky to be in her real life because OMG she is so freaking awesome that anyone around here must quiver in the shadow of her greatness.

Yes you are right. Unfortunately my dogs suck at shopping and their credit is trash.  My kids always come through with the love.  But my husband is called the droid because he for nearly 2 decades has been amazingly void of the ability to recognize that I am a needy narcissist who CRUMBLES INTO A PILE OF TEARS OR PISSED if not confirmed as worthy.

So here is a graph I made, a Rose graph using all data from my 16th birthday  regarding Valentines day gifts I have received over the years.  To let you know in realistic fashion what this day has traditionally  meant to me for decades.

I didn't marry the Droid until I was 27 so there are other relationships and single lady years included

So yeah.  Sure there was that time I got 6 dozen roses delivered to my work but that wasn't from my husband.  That was from a guy I didn't marry.   Or the other guy I didn't marry that tried to give me the 2 carat diamond ring  in public on a stage.  But even though they had the gusto they didn't have my heart.  My heart was destined to belong to the Droid.

To be fair and not look like a total bitch let me clarify things I have offered the Droid as ideas that I would LOVE for any holiday or any day that I would find more romantic than any store bought pre packaged gift

* him packing us a picnic and taking us and the kids anywhere even out in the yard to share time together and have a picnic

* him playing a song on the stereo and saying it was for me asking me to dance in our living room

* him picking out a poem for me and reading it to me

* since he drums - picking out a song funny or not and video himself drumming it for  me

* since he plays the guitar him playing me a song on the guitar for me

* him taking me for a walk on our beach

* him actually calling someplace and making a reservation that I had nothing to do with, he picks, he decides the time, the place, the day, and he picks me up like a date, since we never had one.

*him writing me a poem

*him making me a playlist of songs for us

* him being spontaneous and just taking me somewhere and being excited to be with me, no plans, and him deciding what happens.

But after all these years not one of those things ever happened.   Today is another Valentines day, so we can all make our choices on how we react to this.

It took a lot of years to figure out that I shouldn't be  mad at him for consistently failing to meet my expectations on Anniversaries, Christmas, Birthdays, and Valentines Day.  Because our relationship is not made up of those 4 days per year but of all the others.

The days he holds me when I am sad, he lets me scream when I am angry.  He watches me dance because I am happy,  he holds my hand while we together face hard choices.  He tucks our kids in at night.  We watch proudly together as our kids achieve great things.  We worry over each other as scary things happen.  In the end, he is always there,  he is not the story book knight in shinning armor that all the little girls read about, and chances are there will never be a car in the driveway with a bow, or a honeymoon, or a surprise birthday party for me, or any of the other things that women secretly ( or loudly) want.

But most of those knights in shining armor turn out to be assholes in tin foil.  I will keep my Droid. My best friend, the love of my lilfe, my partner,  and even though you wont see me boasting of my Magnificent Holiday rewards just know that I have the privilege of  being Married to my own personal Super Man.



I hope you all get what you really want for your Valentines day.

xo

PEACH OUT

I'd like to teach the world to sing, or stun gun it. either way I guess

I'd like to teach the world to sing.  Ok that's a lie, I would like to teach Chrapstinka Haguliera to sing, ok that's a lie too, I would actually prefer that she is stun gunned and flown in a crate to Tazmania

What the needs now:

a redefining of several countries political policies and structure,
a solid Apocalypse plan,
a state dedicated soley to morons, for morons, and ran by morons
a State free of Morons, for non morons, and ran by non moronic people
a little more cowbell,
a lot more vodka
Male strippers and hooters girls as TSA agents thus making people happy to be groped and tip jars
Mandatory white chocolate cheesecake free to all citizens of the planet 1x a month
Shock collars on bratty kids, and remotes in the hands of people subjected to said bratty kids
Parents willing to realize not every kid is gifted
Parents willing to realize their particular child may be a Moron
Neighbors willing to shoot a person robbing your house
Cars that run on dryer lint
Rosie the Robot assigned to every house ( because I would love to have a Rosie from The Jestsons)
A digital thermostat for the planet so we can decided the climate.


is love sweet love, and vodka and cheesecake.
or any of these things

Jedi Squirrels 

XO


PEACH OUT

Implied Meaning- ThePeachyPit-a-Pedia

It appears that what we have here is a 

failure to communicate.

Pulling my hair does not mean grabbing 1 strand or a fistful from the top of my head.

It is quite clear that often i have some words/terms or colloquialisms  that are either original, geographical or just plain misunderstood.  Most of the time There are other times that I just don't make sense to anyone but me and my 32 other personalities. 

A long while back on Being Peachy I released the first edition of the "Peachy to English Dictionary". Words terms and phrases I invented or that were invented by myself or my daughter or my daddy.  Or at least I thought they were. 

  

Over the last year I have continued to add to each category thus building this into something completely insane  that is surely a huge contribution to society as a whole and the very future of mankind. 

There are 3 main categories-   Definitions,  Phrases and then Implied Meaning ( which includes southern speak) In many of the below  I am a result on a google search and I am not sure if this is a good or bad thing, but the Leo in me says,  " obviously it's all good baby".  

Definitions-

Epic Asshattednes- Ok so I didn’t invent this even though I had thought I did, but I do rank third and fourth in it on google for a few months so I might has well have invented it.  { Update I think I pretty much eat up the entire first page?}

Muffin Man- I know you all heard it when you were kids but it did not mean what I mean by it, therefore even though I didn’t invent the term I invented this definition and if you don’t know what I am talking about that sucks for you  here is a link to that information. You’re Welcome invoice is in the mail.

WereDroid –  this is all my daughter, I call my husband the droid because he is very smart, and yet amazingly void of most human emotions and social interaction skills.  He is hairy and so she calls him the WereDroid.  The perfect combo of a hairy werewolf and a droid.

AssFaceShitard – although you may have heard of both parts of this term unless used properly and in combo like this well then you haven’t met one of these. I totally invented it.

Ambidextraphibion - A person who can go adjust the water with their feet while in the shower or bathtub.

Hippopotwatamus –  this is when a female ( usually) is such a huge twat that you are left speechless and or so full of angry you kick teddybear hamsters like hacky sacks.

Tyrannosaurusbitch-  this is exactly what it sounds like. A gianormus fossil bitch. Again with the daughter it was invented the same day I invented the Hippotwatamus during our brainstorm of new names to call people. Yeah we are that cool.  ( also see BitchasaurousRex)

HerpaGunaSyphillCraibs - the daughter again. Explaining to her younger brother what he would catch if he bonked the little scuzzbucket he was dating.  ( I am paraphrasing to clean it up a bit.) Break it down and figure out how many VD’s oh I am so sorry young people STD’s are in that word. Pure Genius.

BOB -  sure you think it’s some guy that works as a greeter at walmart, but everytime I see the name Bob on someones shirt I bust out laughing.  Why you ask.  Because my friend KM invented it about 13 years ago. Not only is it a palindrome but more importantly it’s a acronym .  Wait for it..  Battery Operated Buddy.  You will never see any Bob in the same light.

StudleyDooRight-  A hot sexy guy with manners and chivalry and all that “help the damsel in distress”  stuff.   Could be a helpful Muffin Man with morals.

DingesKhan -  This is a usually a male who is such a freaking huge moron that he gets named after history that he probably doesn’t know but with a sprinkling of Dingus in there.

ClosetBabe-  this is a guy or girl ( I am not judgmental about your preference)  is so cute/hot/smexy/adorable/smokin  that you want to take them home and chain them in your closet.  Like your favorite pair of Pj’s they are right there waiting happily for you when you want them.  Be careful not to confuse Muffin Men with ClosetBabes, totally different. You want the muffin man to leave, you want to chain and lick the closetbabe. However a cloestbabe could turn into a muffin man.

Jizz Gurggler-  not to be confused with the old and nearly antiquated cum guzzler the jizz gurgler , is in the same family/species,  but is not a guzzler, just a gurgler.

PHRASES

The IQ of a _________ ( below are the common things I fill in the blank with )

Carrot,  Blade of Grass, Frog shit on a log, Popsicle stick in a toilet, hamster wheel, soggy toilet paper roll, used tampon, bowl of unset jello,  fetus.

The personality of a _________ ( below are the common things I fill in the blank with )

toilet tank, litter box, hippo shit, enema, piece of carbon paper, someone I would stab with a rusty spoon,  poached egg,  stinky sock.

That person is such a ____________( below are the common things I fill in the blank with )

lyinflatfootedguttersnake,  smacktastic wench,  AppleII,  DickHeadimusMaximus, snorkelneedingpitypoolswimmer,  rectumblister,   cracketysmacketyhobag,  oralfacialpedomite,

IMPLIED MEANING- 

Douche-     do not need to use word bag or canoe or hat  because this is the simplified version and the other endings are implied.  example:

"every time I am around her I am like, "uh, your mans like a douche? " 

* Silent Stare* -  do not need to use the really?  wow?  ( in person)  because the silent stare is the simplified version of, " you need medical help"   or  " I can't speak right now as I am contemplating how you will die"

"Bunco" -  do not need to explain anything to your spouse, it is implied that this means you are going to bunco to get wasted,  it's understood,  this is the equivalent to guys poker night but with a lot more boobs and sex talk.

"medicinals" -  do not need to explain that you are not actually getting these from the drug store or dr,  it is implied they will come from a liquor store or still.  

UNDERSTANDING SOUTHERN SPEAK-

When presented with a photo or heaven forbid in person the view of friends daughter in a wedding dress and she looks like a wilder beast got caught in a white silk trap  you say,

  " beautiful dress"     NOT -  OMG is that your husbands child? or did you get impregnated by a yeti? 

When presented with an ugly baby ( and there are ugly babies)  you have many options but most used is the 1 spouse option.  Meaning if only 1 spouse is with the baby you say,

" aww  he/she/it  must look just like the mommy/daddy/missing spouse"    not  "aww  he/she/it must look just like if a goat and a tele-tubbie bread, sorry about that try again?"

When you are confronted with someone you can not stand/tolerate and wish ill you say,

" well bless your pea pickin heart"   not " I want to stab your stupid ass with a spork and push you in a vat of lemon juice filled with zombie sharks that have lazor beams on their head so they can track you and slice you and then flip you around like a volley ball."

*  do not confuse this with  Bless your heart"  which literally means OMG you are so screwed .

When something happens you always thought was not only possible but indeed probable yet the person involved seem shocked since they have been living in denial,  such as a neighbor tells you a local kid who was always a rotten little rat but since he played sports all his nasty deeds were over looked gets popped with 32 charges in the next town for doing the things your town has been letting him get away with and your entire town is shocked, you say-

"Well shut my mouth"  not  "I FUCKING TOLD YOU PEOPLE HE WAS A LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT FOR YEARS!"

Ok that's enough for now, if I give you too much too fast your brain will "pop like a tick" ( another southern saying, that makes me quite barfy).   Plus I want some Tator Nuts and they close in 30 minutes.

xo

PEACH OUT

Also this week I was honored to receive the "Stylish Blogger Award" from Sunny Sings the Blues and my Daughters Guest Post  here  at The Pits titled "Sam I am"  garnered the "LOL" award fromBran~Muffin.   Much thanks to both of them and the awards have been added to my award page  over at BeingPeachy ! Much Thanks Ladies.

also I hate it when this happens to me