An inteview with the Blonde Goddess...if you're lucky.

I have had an idea forming in my head for a while.


"I think special thoughts and then I touch myself."

Seriously...I see where other people allow someone to interview them and while the thought kind of scares me a bit, I figured that it might serve to be interesting.
But how in the world would I choose only one interested applicant?
I mean, I'm sure that there are many people who would chew off their arm at a chance to interview me.
So that's where the idea of putting up a poll to vote on who's going to interview me came in.
I think that would be the only fair way of doing it. Of course you could get people to vote for you if you wanted to and as long as you're the one to win, I'll answer any questions you might have.And depending on who wins, I could be in trouble.


"Moog demonstrates the correct position to the Blonde Goddess for her interview with him."

So...if you'd like to interview the Goddess, tell me in the comments and then after a couple of days I'll post the poll for voting purposes.

May the best person win!

I feel like I'm auctioning myself off here. Maybe I should post a boob shot?
How about a hooker shot?


"The Blonde Goddess on her way to work."

HAHAHA! Actually that's my Halloween costume from a couple years ago. Too funny. Although having sex for a living sounds like something I'd enjoy...yeah..I said it. I'm a shameless hussy. I love sex. I'm a whore. Shut up!

Today I plan to clean out my cupboards. I realized there is a problem when I went to make dinner last night and gave myself a concussion. My stewing pot flew out as soon as I opened the cabinet door and conked me in the noggin.
I swore like a sailor and then realized Mr.Man was on the phone with his mother.
Not good...
Not good at all.


"I can't believe you just said FUCK in front of my mommy!"


Yeah...Mr.Man was pretty upset with me.
Oh well.
It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and I just blurted out every cuss word I could think of.
Shit like that happens sometimes.

Now if you want to know who the king of swearing is, I'd have to say it's none other than my friend the Bread Beast.
Get in a car with him and watch the cussing commence!

We were visiting him and the Gucci Gal one summer.Their family was having a birthday party and we were on our way there. Mr.Man didn't really want to drive though Boston, so the Bread Beast said he would.
I sat in the front with him while Gucci Gal, Mr.Man and the kids sat in the back.
I get car sick so I needed to sit in the front.
While I didn't get car sick, I did almost shit myself.


"Dear God I think I just shit my pants!"

He drove at breakneck speed,practically parallel parking at ninety.Swerving in and out of lanes...tailgating...I'm talking two inches between our bumper and theirs.
He had this wild look in his eyes and as he drove, he'd lean over me and shout out the passenger side window. "WHAT THE FUCK PECKAH-HEAD! GET IN YOUR OWN GODDAMN LANE! FUCK YOU! NO! FUCK YOU!"
Had we been in West Virginia I would have worried that someone was going to pull their shot gun off the rack in the back window of their truck and blow a hole in the side of the car.

Mr.Man made a comment about the Bread Beast having a little road rage.
Gucci Girl replied, "Oh no. He's being good today. You're not getting the whole show."

THE WHOLE SHOW?
Jesus Christ! What more could their be?


"The Bread Beast prepares for his commute to work."

Who knows? We may get the whole show if we visit this summer.
All I know is that if we go anywhere near Boston,I'm wearing a depends. I'd hate to mess up my cute little summer skirts.


Besides...since they wouldn't let me join that stupid club, I've got an entire box if giant crap catchers sitting around. I might as well use them.

Well that's all I have for now. Leave a comment if you want to interview me. I'll give it a day or two and then post the poll for voting. How many days should I leave it up? I'm thinking through the weekend at least. Then we'll find out who the lucky winner next Tuesday.
In the meantime I'll prepare mentally....

I want to bite people....

I fucking hate Mondays sometimes.
Only sometimes.
Days like today for instance.


I want to bite someone...

My weekend was spectacular. I had A LOT of romantic time with Mr.Man. I felt very loved and adored and worshiped.
It was incredible....
I felt kind of shitty all weekend too. Dizzy and I couldn't focus. But Mr.Man babied me and took good care of me.


"A hot steamy bath always makes me feel better."

And then this morning came.
And the freakin kids fought...and bitched and moaned and acted like someone was poking their eyes out with hot irons.
You'd think that school was a torture chamber the way they carried on about it.


"Little Beatle's health class."

By the time I dropped their sorry asses off to school, I was in a foul mood.
I wanted to smash the old wolf wagon into other cars.
I visualized myself running over mailboxes...
It wasn't pretty...


"I hope I'm not still dragging that kid with the Hello Kitty book bag behind the car. I hate Hello Kitty..."

So when I got home this morning I went into the kitchen to get some coffee and the underwire in my favorite bra came springing out and poked me in the side of the titty.
That PISSED me off even more so I took my bra off and flung it behind me. It hit my favorite coffee mug and sent it flying. Smash! No more Red Sox World Series mug.
Dammnit!


"I seriously need some vodka...NOW!"

I went ballistic!
I jumped straight up and down, cussing and balling my fist and ripping my clothes.
By the time I was done throwing my fit, I had no shirt on, my hair was standing straight up on my head, the cats had learned a few new swear words and the dog was hiding underneath Little Beatle's coat...(which he apparently had left on the floor.)


"After throwing a tantrum and giving in to the male testosterone "I want to fuck all the time" hormones, the Blonde Goddess' looks changed dramatically."

So I made toast.
In my kitchen.
With no shirt or bra on.
My hair sticking straight up.
I felt pretty.
I didn't burn myself, which was fortunate for me and the still intact windows in the kitchen. Instead I dropped the strawberry cream cheese covered toast I had prepared myself onto my chest.
I stared at it.
I felt myself getting ready to throw another fit.
So I took a deep breath and did what anyone would do in a situation like that. I licked the cream cheese off my chest (because of my freakishly long tongue I can do that)
What should happen EXACTLY at the moment I am licking the cream cheese off my chest?
The trash guys pull up out back to pick up the trash.
They look in the back window of my house just in time to see me standing in my kitchen, topless, licking cream cheese off my chest.


"Yummy! Taste better than on the toast!"

Yep.

Bet the next time I call them to haul something away they're over here in no time flat.


"We have a trash pick up at the Blonde Goddess' house today!"

Anyway...THAT is how I began my day.
I'm not in such a bad mood anymore because honestly, the pissy bad moods usually get me in trouble. The kind of trouble that I got into today...and really...how can I stay mad when something like that happens to me?

I am planning on having an uneventful day from here out.
I'll be back tomorrow...unless I bite the wrong person today.


"Tastes like chicken."

Wish me luck...

Cookie head, Boobie head and my imagination...

A big question a lot of people always ask me is this....
"Why are you so damn sexy and funny and personable?"


"It's a curse dahling."

OK...so they really don't ask that...
What the DO ask is this...

"Where do you find the pictures you use on your blog?"

Today, I, the Blonde Goddess will reveal my secret.

Yep...
Bet your glad you stopped by to read today, huh?

Let's begin by me telling you the thought process used to write this thing.
There really is none.


"Sure Blondie...like we're going to believe that."

I mean, I use things from my real life and when I get up in the morning, after having a mental breakdown trying to get the kids off to school, I come home and sit at my computer and start writing.
Honestly I don't know what I'm going to write about, it just happens.
Once I start writing, I get visuals in my head and I type in a visual keyword with a spin on it and do a google search.
Then I find a picture that will work with the caption I'm thinking of and post it.

It's really that simple.

There's no special place I go to get pictures...it's all Google and my imagination.

For example I'm thinking of a joke in my head about a porn star. So I do a Google search using the words, "cookie head"...(don't ask me why but that's what popped into my mind so I'm going with it...I'm very spontaneous here...)

I found this picture and I'll add the caption...


"Porn star Lucinda grew tired of her boyfriend's AIDS paranoia and reluctantly agreed to wear a head condom."


I found this little gem while Googling "boobie head"...


"Jessica was growing tired of the same lame pick up line she kept getting at the bars..."My what big teeth you have."

And here's another one I found while Googling "vintage woman"...


"Olivia was always popular in high school so she decided to use her special talent to jump start her career."

And there you have it.
Sorry about the post being so short and sweet but I only had a little time in between testing today.

Have a good weekend!

The hell headache and no gag reflex...

I have a fucking HORRIBLE HEADACHE!

It's one of those headaches you get when you don't have your morning coffee. Caffeine withdrawal? Some stupid shit like that...
I had to fast last night for a test this morning.So that meant no coffee this morning.
Fucking stupid tests...

I got up this morning and got the masses of lazy asses out of bed. Then I had to shower,brush my teeth and poop in five minutes...(don't ask me how I do it, but I CAN.)
THEN I had to listen to the girls FIGHT picking back and forth at each other...(bitch...bitch...bitch...)!
I dragged Little Beatle out of bed and had to keep yelling up the stairs at him to get him out of the shower.He's in there for twenty minutes!What the hell is he doing in there? He's twelve for christsakes!

I fed the animals (pets), packed lunches, ironed Veggie Stick's jeans and then sped everyone where they needed to go....

WITHOUT MY FUCKING COFFEE!



Now I have a stupid headache.
AND I'm radioactive.
YEAH!
That's part of the test.
I'm having my thyroid tested. They give me a radioactive iodine pill and then they strap my down and strip me naked.
My nipples glow in the dark and they charge admission while I'm sedated.



Ok...so that's not really what happens, but do you know that one time, Mr.Man and I used a glow in the dark condom and both his "Mr.Happy" and my "Mrs. Glad to see you" glowed in the dark.
All I had to do was spread my legs and it was like the green lantern was trying to escape from the pleasure cave.


"That was a narrow escape!I didn't think that one eyed snake would ever stop attacking me! Thank god it finally threw up and left!"

No.
They did NOT give me drugs and I am NOT high.
Shut up.

What was I talking about?
Oh yeah...having my thyroid tested.
I'm radioactive.
I could kill a man by giving him head today.
Radiation poisoning is bad news dudes!
I could take your life!


"FEAR ME!I AM INVINCIBLE!"

I don't have a gag reflex.
I discovered this when I was a kid and my mother told me to stick my finger down my throat and make myself throw up and I couldn't.
She thought I was a fat kid and tried to teach me how to be bulimic but it didn't work out for me.

I have to go masturbate or something.
Orgasms are good to help get rid of a headache. I'm dead serious. It also helps with mood swings, depression, broken bones....HELL..any kind of physical ailment.
Ok...so it helps me. It could help you too. You might as well try it.


"WHOOHOO! No more Tylenol for our headaches!Thanks Blonde Goddess!"

I have to get off here. I'm going to try to have an orgasm and then take a power nap and rid myself of this hellish headache. I still have to go back to the hospital this afternoon and shine my glowing titties at the technicians.
How will I ever manage to enjoy myself if I have a fucking headache?!

I'll see ya tomorrow...

The shitty finger of death...

Sorry about the late post and lack of posts over the past couple of days, but I can't help it.
I am otherwise occupied in the morning and since I get up and write this thing after the kids have gone to school, it can't be helped.
I suppose I could start actually planning what I'm going to say on here and write it the night before or the day before, but I've tried that and it's just not me. I have to be spontaneous.

Anyway, one of the first things I have to clear up here is that the picture of the wet t-shirt and luscious TaTas were NOT my luscious TaTas. Sorry but that's taking it a bit far. While the Goddess here is pretty wild, I prefer not to show my body parts in that manner and won't post anything sexy like that here.



This is a crazy woman's blog. With crazy pictures. If you want porn, go somewhere else.

Little Beatle and Veggie Stick were both home sick with the flu yesterday. They're home again today...
I spent yesterday cleaning up puke, rubbing backs and sitting and cuddling to keep sick babies warm. When they're sick, they let you still do that stuff, even though they're not babies anymore.
It's the same kind of flu that I had back when I thought I was dying and my asshole was on fire. I was very sympathetic because I remember how bad I felt.
I don't think they're as sick today as they were yesterday. Today they just want to sleep. I think that's the best thing for them both.

I did have to run out yesterday to Krogers and the doctor's office...ON ELDERLY HELL DAY!

Yes...it was just as special as you are picturing it.

I walked in the doctors office and it was PACKED with fucking old people. What the hell? There was no one else there who was under the age of 80, I'm not even shitting you.
And speaking of shitting, some old man sat in the waiting room and literally shit himself.
His wife began yelling at him and I actually felt bad for the old dude. She looked like the kind who beats people into submission with wooden spoons and house shoes. I could picture her chasing him through the house with a flowered house shoe, hitting him on the back of the head and yelling about something.
Poor guy...


"If you shit your pants in public again Harold, I'll beat you within an inch of your life!"
"I only shit myself because you've ruptured my lower intestines with your giant purse beatings Beatrice!"

In the midst of the shitting chaos, they managed to skip me and I ended up waiting for over an hour just to get my blood drawn.

While I waited,I sat in the corner and tried to use my vast mind over matter powers to make myself invisible.
Of course it didn't work and eventually an old lady started talking to me and then that led to "The Question" everyone who lives in this state asks....."Where do you go to church?"

The little old lady looked so sincere and sweet. She was all alone and didn't have one of those huge ass MawMaw purses I've been clobbered with on so many occasions.I wanted to believe she was a sweet little old lady who would be nice to me. Of course I knew that once I told her I didn't go to church anywhere she'd make the sign of the cross and burn the rubber off her walker wheels trying to get away from me.
So I fibbed a little.
I told her I was Lutheran.
And really, since I used to go to the Lutheran church for years and years, it really wasn't a fib.

She wasn't impressed but at least she didn't flee and she didn't make anymore conversation either.(She was probably secretly praying for my soul anyway.)


"I met a Lutheran today. I almost tore the wheels off my walker while trying to escape."

After I left there, I came home and checked on the kiddos. Then I made a popsicle and drinks trip to Krogers.

I was fully prepared to be attacked...maimed...maybe even killed.
I walked cautiously into the store.
Fifty Elderly Hellions whipped their heads around to watch me.
Why do they put the over-ripened, reduced in price banana's right in the front of the store? A woman can't even sneak in for christ's sake.
I strolled in with my shopping cart, even though I really didn't need a cart. I decided that I'd better have some kind of weapon or line of defense so I took one anyway.
The first two isles went by relatively without incident.
I even got through the Jello section and was able to get Jello without a blow to the head from a stray can of beets.
I was feeling pretty confident about the whole trip.

Then I saw the old woman who looks like she has a goats head. She snorts at me and tries to run over me with her cart whenever I run into her at the store. She's even tried to hit me with her car in the parking lot. I think I wrote about her before because she looks like a goat and she never speaks...just snorts.

Anyway...
She was standing by the cake mixes.
I needed sugar which was across the isle from her.
I considered waiting until she had moved but I saw her standing there and KNEW...I KNEW...she wouldn't leave.


"Ethel tells her sister Mable about her encounter with the Blonde Goddess as they enjoy a piece of cake."

It was a waiting game.
I slowly walked toward her, keeping the backs of my heels toward the shelves.
I heard her snort.
Then I remembered how I'd thwarted all those old bitches the last time I was at Krogers on Elderly Hell Day!
I stuck my hand down my pants and waited for her to look.
As soon as she looked at me, I pulled it out and smelled it.

I didn't know that old goats could move so fast.
I saw cake mixes flying as she sped in the opposite direction.

Needless to say, I continued to scratch my ass and smell my finger through the rest of the store.

"ALL FEAR THE SHITTY FINGER OF DEATH!"


"My finger smells like mothballs and dirty feet."

I have finally truly discovered how to walk through Krogers without harm on Tuesdays. And you were all here to witness it.

TAKE THAT ELDERLY HELLIONS!

I'm going to end up today with sending you to a couple of places.I got tagged for a MeMe by...Brianf . I'm really terrible about doing awards and MeMe's and even commenting so I'm trying to be better about it...even if I'm not getting around to actually doing it.
I also got an award from Jade, which I'm ashamed to admit, I forgot about.When you click on the link and see how long ago she gave me this award, you'll want to beat me.
(I'm fond of spankings so I can take it...)

My brains falls into a Vodka bottle on the weekends and is pickled. I'm entitled to do stupid things...

Sorry Jade...here's a pic of the award...

Thank you Jade!

Since I suck at awards I'm just going to say that everyone on my blog roll deserves an award. Maybe I should make my own award thingys and give them out for out of the usual things? Moog got one I made just for him...The official "I Do Stupid Shit Award".
Ron got a "Witty Comment" award I made him. Maybe I just need to be original and do more of that stuff.

I'll be thinking about it...see ya tomorrow.

Wet shirt contest?

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I would need a super shrinker!

Mr.Man made the comment about me being crazy AGAIN last night.


"IM NOT CRAZY!"

Of course it got me thinking and I began to think about what kind of shrink I'd have to find to take care of me.
It would definitely have to be a "SUPER SHRINK!"

Think about it...

If I were to sit down and summarize myself in the first hour, this is what I would say...

I am a wife and mother.
I have four kids.

Oh yeah...all their little friends live with us most of the time, attaching themselves to my house like a flea infestation...

They love me but they're all ungrateful.The two youngest daughters plot against my sanity on a daily basis.


"I hid all the batteries!"

My husband loves his musket collection more than he loves me and I have to trap and restrain him for sex.


"Honey,take the handcuffs off. I think you gave me a concussion when you tackled me."

My neighbors are afraid of me and every church in town has me on their prayer list.


"Lord, smite that Blonde vixen and rid our town of that hellspawn!"

The old women in my town have a secret sect that I call the "Elderly Hellions".


They live to torment me and offer prizes to the best tormentors of the week.

I am in fights with old ladies on a weekly basis.


"Bring it on Blondie! I will beat your sorry ass with my MawMaw purse of death!"

I like to be naked and I have sex with myself to de-stress.


I would die without my massaging shower head...

When my boobs get depressed I let them drive the car because it seems to cheer them up.


"Just taking the gals out for a drive to cheer them up!"

I drink before five on Sundays.

I hide my alcohol in old perfume bottles...

I fart on people in public places and I've been known to run a cell phone or two through the crack of my ass, just like a card through an ATM machine.


For those of you who are still afraid to fart in public, perhaps this book might help?

There are three fat bitches who's main goal in life is to torment me and I'm NOT being paranoid.(maybe they're being paid by the Elderly Hellions?)


BITCHES!

I have accidentally boob flashed at least a dozen people in the last year and YES THEY WERE ALL ACCIDENTAL!


See? It doesn't just happen to me...

I attract weirdos. All the freaks in the universe have an inner homing device with my coordinates implanted in their brains.

"The Blonde Goddess is near...let's wait for her in the underwear isle."

(Did I already mention that I'm not paranoid?)

Can you IMAGINE the dollar signs that will pop into "Super Shrinker's" eyes when I tell all of THAT stuff about me?



Gosh...am I forgetting anything? You people read this thing. Did I get all the important stuff or am I missing something?

Well anyway, you think about it and let me know. I mean, if I'm going to go to a Super Shrink I'm going to need to make sure I give all the information needed to help me, right?

I'll see you Monday...