The "Meg Is Lazy" Christmas Post...3 Days Late

For the past week I've been all like, "I'm gonna write some shit about Christmas." Yeah, well, that never happened. I think I have a half-finished post save somewhere on here, but I'm too lazy to read and edit it.


Christmas kinda sucked. My brother is in rehab and *still* has not called to say hi, fuck you, or Merry Christmas. Seriously. He's such a little shit. Everyone's broke, so that kind of sucks. And then Christmas eve, through the fuckery that is Facebook, I saw that my ex was taking his fucking cheating cunt bitch girlfriend home with him for Christmas. I don't know why this bothered me so much, because I could really care less about both of them, but I was close to his family and I miss them and I want her to die. On top of that, I was sleeping in the same room that my friend Tom stayed in all summer while getting stem cell therapy and that made me miss him like a mother fucker and cry a lot.



But anyway, now I'm at the beach and even though I have to go back to work tomorrow, I love being home. My cats are happy, my dogs are happy, and the parakeet doesn't seem any less unhappy. So instead of elaborating on all the bullshit, here are some pictures.


I love you all and hope that you had a great holiday. I have to say that I was able to maintain some sanity by hanging out and drinking with all of you awesome people on twitter every night. I wish we all lived closer so that we could do in in person every night. :-)

My road...this is why I love being home.

My back yard...again, why I love being home.


Turtle playing ball.

Papa P. made waffles for Christmas morning. Very nom.

My little monkey...his first Christmas. :-)

Mimosa?

Papa P. making nog Christmas Eve

Oysters...nom nom nom

Me and Leighann made dogs treats. We had an audience.

Landen opening his stocking.

Dog Shirts and Toothless Guys With Rob On Top

Before I get started, Bex needs a cupcake. Here ya go love. Lick the icing off first. ;-)

Ok. Now that that piece of business is out of the way, let me just say that this is gonna be a random one.

I've been promising Bex that Turtle has pictures for her since like, forever ago, and have been too blah to actually download them off of my camera. But I'm gonna do it tonight! I swear. (See, Past Meg is writing this and Future Meg is going to post it later tonight. Magic.)

Fire Crotch sent me pictures of the shirts that she bought for her guys and I just knew that T had to have a shirt. And I found the perfect one. It says, "What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" That describes him to a T (haha...pun intended, bitches!). He's like a super-human moron (pat on the back if you know where that came from. Don't be ashamed...you know you do). So anyway, the shirt came in last week and I was so impressed that it fit him (FC and I discussed this....the ones she ordered fit too. It's hard to fit my dogs because they're like body builders and their chests are really wide. If you have big dogs, order an XXL from CafePress. You won't be disappointed). Turtle hates wearing clothes, which is unfortunate since I buy a lot for him.

I put the shirt on him and we watched Twilight (natch). He was glued to the screen. When the scene that's described on his shirt came on, he insisted I take a picture. Him and his Uncle Robward, partners in mind-reading, virgin-deflowering, I-wanna-suck-yer-blood crime. *sigh* I'm a proud mama. Here he is in all his glory:

So that's random shit number one. Random shit number two goes along with the fact that I decided to cancel Christmas Sunday morning because I didn't feel good, my family is all kinda fucked up right now, my house was a mess, I hate my neighbors, I didn't get to see Jack all week, and I was PMSing. I texted this to Leighann, who promptly wrote back, "Snap out of it bitch! We're going to get Christmas trees tonight!" Groan. I had the baby all day and drug (dragged? What's correct here? No, I don't have an English degree. Ok, I do, but it's in creative writing and we don't have to use correct grammar if we don't want to. Plus, I'm from BFE Carolina/Virginia and talk like a super-human moron sometimes) Justin with me to a kiddie Christmas party. Bless him. We got back and Justin bailed (bitch) and me, Brad, Leighann, Landen, and BigBabyD went to get trees. It was sumpthin. Here's me with the toothless dude who secured it to the roof of my car for me. He was nice.

Brad helped me get the tree in a stand and into my house, and as we stood there admiring it, he asked if I'd ever had a Christmas tree up in my own house before. The answer to that is no because DouchBag ex always thought it was too messy and he just wanted to go home to his mama's house to enjoy a Christmas tree. Brad shook his head and set forth the following proclamation: From this day on, we will always have Christmas trees no matter what. The end. Then he said, "It's Christmas, bitches!" and I was filled with the holiday spirit. I love him.

So here's my tree. I got some lights and about 7 ornaments (ok. Moment of truth. I went to type ornament and typed unicorns instead. WTF is wrong with me?) on it and then gave up. But I think it's pretty and my big huge multi-colored seriously tacky lights are FTW. Oh, and is that a glittery Rob on top? I think it may be.

And I'll leave you with this. I can't look at this picture and not be in the holiday spirit. He told Santa he wanted a pony and a Rob, by the way. Srsly. Santa looked at me like I'd lost my mind. *fist pump* Represent!!

Spanks For Spanky

So I have managed to keep a parakeet alive since September. This is a good thing. In my lifetime, I have had: dogs, cats, horses, goats, ducks, hedgehogs, ferrets, hamsters, fish, and frogs. But I had never, ever had a bird until I got Crackrock. He is insane. I was pretty sure I had given him a heart attack trying to get him into his new cage. Luckily, he survived and we now have a mutual respect for each other that borders on love.

The original plan for Crackrock was to get him to talk. According to Google the bird that held the record for being able to say the most words was a parakeet. So the brilliance struck me: I'm gonna get Crackrock to talk, and it's gonna be with a British accent and he's gonna say things that I dream of Rob saying to me.

Ok, so that plan's a fail. I'll be lucky if I ever get Crackrock to sit on my finger, let alone talk like Rob. So of course that means that I need a $2000 African Grey Parrot. Like this one:

After I purchase this bird, I will send him to Bex and Stan so they can teach him to talk like Rob. Bex has named him Spanky. And they will teach him to say things like "trolly" instead of shopping cart and "tea" instead of dinner. And "fucking twat" which is what we say but they'll teach him to do it with a smexy British accent. ;-) Good plan, huh?

Here's where we need your help. Memory_Jean, Fire Crotch, Rob's Swiss Miss, and of course myself have very generously donated some great items, services, and dignity. Have something you wanna donate to the cause? Leave it in the comments! Let make Spanks For Spanky a success!!!!

Meg:

Off-Key Singing (you pick the song)

Mad Caesar Salad Making Skillz

Memory_Jean:

Her body ("I gotta whore it for the sake of Spanky")

Cereal

Fire Crotch:

Her Fat (she's not, btw)

Crusty Peeps

Rob's Swiss Miss:

The fine art of sandwich making (RSM now stands for RaunchySandwichMaker)

Fooseball Lessons (beer included)

Her cleavage (there was talk of motorboating)

Marie

Body shots using an "Everything Is Bigger In Texas" shotglass (I'll supply the salt and lime)

This is a work in progress. If you want to donate something (I really want a Snoward *coughFragileLittleHumancough*) leave it in the comments and I will revise. Oh, and don't forget about #TheHookup going on over at Phantastic Phil's Phansite. It's turned into an orgy.