It’s not even a Moronic Monday but I have to tell you what happened on Dry Hump Day.

OH-  Don’t forget-  Today and Tomorrow are the last days to leave comments to be entered into the Peachy Prize package give away for my blog birthday and your comment better have a way to reach you because I am not playing Inspector Gadget with my Cap’n Crunch Decoder ring to hunt you down,  but 3 winners will be drawn from all the comments from April!  Get excited.

The Morning-

I went to what would be  a Doctor if we weren’t  retired Military and didn’t have Governement health care.  She pretends to act like she knows some medical terms like “jacked up” and “vitamins” and we pretended to not want to stuff her head in a toilet and it is usually awesome.  She is roughly 32 seconds older than our daughter and her IQ  is approximately 32 points lower than our 9 year old and yes she is a butter face.  But we wont hold that against her.  What we will hold against her is the chronic misdiagnoses and the constant “drop the ball syndrome”.  I am just glad I don’t have balls.   On the sign in form they asked why I was there, and I wrote-  Checking for Zobmie Fatigue syndrome,   it asked if I felt sad or depressed or wanted to hurt myself and I said, “only when I deal with you incompetent people”.  When it asked the date of my last period I wrote above I used one at the end of the sentence.  I hope they get my humor.

Noon-

We then went to the BX  or the “Military Mall”  while at the food court, my husband made a HUGE mistake and ordered a “box” from Taco Bell. This prompted me  to automatically burst into the song,  “Step 1-  cut a whole in the box”,  my husband, the Droid, cut me a disapproving look,  but the General behind us, started air humping his fictional box.  That was all I needed.  So I proceeded with my behavior and the song.  “Step 2″  At this point the Droid then said, ” you do realize you are NOT on twitter and your behavior is NOT appropriate!”

Me:  No shit dude, I actually like the people on twitter.

Droid:  You are going to Hell

Me:  This is a grain of sand on the beach of reasons I am going to hell darling.

Droid:  Are you on Meds or something?

Me: I wish,  right General?  Can I get a hell yeah?

General high fives me.

Droid shakes his head in shame, leaves me on the base and returns to his IT world and I get in a fight with some bitch over the fact I used a business check and it didn’t have my name on it and I pointed out that Bill Gates name isn’t on MicroSofts checks but people take them and if she took the check I would by her some mouthwash because it was clear she had eaten armadillo ass for lunch and then I realized I probably wouldn’t get the things I wanted to buy so I did a Tyra Banks super model stomp out of the store and was all flipping my weave around expect I didn’t wear a weave, and I was really glad the Droid had left because he wouldn’t be 6’5 he would be like 4’3 of humiliation because he just can’t pull off a super model stomp, I blame the swim team at OU.

Then driving home I send out this tweet.

MYTH-spilling Mt Dew in my crotch does NOT make me a better driver !
( and I thought about it, and tweeting about Mt Dew in my crotch doesn’t make me a better driver either, so wow, that’s a deep spiral of bad driving all due to Mt Dew right?  what jerks )

I found out later it does work like an ant bait/super glue combo which is awesome if you’re like on a safari or whatever but not so much for your snatch.   Can I just say much like the Go Go’s my lips are sealed.  Because whatever the molecular structure of Mt Dew is a shower wont cut it.  I had to go full on bubble bath on this folks, jets and all.

The Evening-

I am so cool.  Proof?  I have it. I went to the little league baseball game for the Prince where I fell in front of the packed  bleachers. No hole, no reason, just busted my butt.  I could have done a Mary Kathrine Gallager Super Star but I was in a pinch and pulled out the ”  I really should have had ONE MORE DRINK BEFORE THIS LITTLE LEAGUE GAME.”   That went over like a turd in a punch bowl.  Which tells me one thing,  either there’s a lot of 12 stepper parents on the team or they are stick smugglers.  Whatever, I broke a nail,  suck it.   Don’t mind the swollen ankle.  I’m fine, thank for your concern.   By the way, Step 1- cut a hole in the box biatches.!

xo

PEACH OUT

*I totally broke my right hand middle finger nail and twisted my left ankle, but whatever,  also I think I scraped off a freckle.  I plan to be absolutely toasted at the next game that’ll teach em.