Dumb Husbands and Vampires or Unicorns

Posted on April 19, 2011 by ThePeachy1 in Latest, Peachy Advice

Please be advised that I have NO expertise ( despite what the massive spam on my site that I block says). Except I remain in the top listing in google for the search term ” epic asshattedness”,( click here and see)

So if you send in your question, which your totally welcome to do, to beingpeachy@gmail.com, PULEEZE for the love of Christ on a Bike know that your advice is coming from someone who is known for “epic asshattedness”.

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Dear ThePeachy1;

I have what some people would call an unrational fear of germs, I don’t want people touching me, and I don’t really care for public places, but with summer coming up I know I will be forced to drag my children into the cesspools of plague, eboli or possibly death. How do you suggested I don’t catch that? Also did you have anything to do with Nicolas Cage getting arrested because you were in New Orleans when that went down and I know you are a bad ass.

Love,
El-Germaphobe

Dear El- Germaphobe- A healthy fear for public contact of public scum and death is totally fine. For example I would rather pluck out my own eyes than use a public restroom. Hugging? Yes it’s true, I want to do a silkwood shower if I hug a stranger that I don’t feel 100% comfy with. Public pools, just go ahead and lob my head off. But stretch marks, and car lines are NOT punishment enough we have to suffer these public things for the wee ones, so that they can be filled with teen angst and hate us and stick us in nursing homes and not write or call in our silver years. So I have a couple of suggestions 1) purchase the biggest tupperware bowl you can find and seal yourself inside. Downside is, the view isn’t that great it’s all fuzzy also you suffocate rather quickly, or 2) so just take your vitamins and wash your hands. As far my boy Nic, all I can say is don’t ever try to dare my ass in a shot for shot match, because I dropped out of college to go on the pro-am drinking circuit. He may be a Movie Star, but I’m Peachy, and I can bond my own butt out of jail. xo ThePeachy1

you can live in a hamster ball but where do you go to the bathroom

This might work but I think you need water to roll around?

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Dear Peachy

I have a problem keeping my big trap shut. My wife asked if she looked fat in her dress I told her the truth and now my life is a mess.
signed
Couch Sleeper

Dear Couch Sleeper, It’s hard for me to believe this story. Unless you are laying in ICU somewhere and a sympathetic orderly is holding your phone up so you can peck this out with a pencil you’re grasping between your toes either your a liar or your wife is taking the high road and slowly poisoning your dumb ass waiting for you life insurance to be increased. First rule of dumb husband club is don’t open your dumb husband mouth. Don’t get me wrong the fault doesn’t lie completely in your now closed for the season lap. Your wife needs to learn the ” Don’t ask if you don’t want the truth rule”. But you need to learn what I like to call, “Peachy hubby training 1o1″. When a woman asks if she looks fat in something it’s generally to see if you will compliment her. ALWAYS COMPLIMENT HER. However if she’s 275 and in skin tight leggins or a bikini you might want to do something clever like this. ” Hey honey you know what, you haven’t treated yourself to something new in ages lets go shopping” Yes it will cost you, but so will the hotel and the divorce. So send her off spending and if you tag along you can help pick out something you would like to see her in. If you or your budget is not up for a shopping trip, this is a good time to throw on your favorite go to song and some spontaneous “get your grove on” because nothing says, ” oh baby I love your ways” like a good old fashion love fest, INSTEAD of calling her fat. Plus your junk will thank you. XO The Peachy1

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Dear Peachy,

My teenage daughter recently revealed to us that she is in love with a young man who is a vampire. Needless to say we are not happy with this. I blame twilight for this. How can I stop this insanity.

Future MIL 2aBloodSucker

Dear Future MIL 2aBloodSucker- WTF? How can you blame Twilight when clearly your daughter is as mental as the boy she’s bopping. I know it’s a hard pill to swallow but it’s like blaming a video game for school shootings or music for a kid hacking or something. Blame your daughter, her age, and then blame Ann Rice. As much as I love Ann, she is the one who made Vampires hot as hell, but Twilight turned them all glittery and emo junk. But seriously,maybe it would be a great idea to take your daughter to this place called the library it’s really cool and these have these old things called books. Explain to her the difference between fiction and science fiction, then like a super fun treasure hunt let her find out which section vampires are under. It may cause a shock to her system to see words actually printed on paper, so you should have a double latte no whip frappuccino waiting to sooth her along with whatever meds I am sure she is on handy. As a backup plan sew garlic into her underwear, and have her bathe in holy water whenever he visits. I don’t know if this wards off the new sparklie vampires or not but hey it will send a super bold message. Also might I suggest you could get her interested in something else like a unicorn or something that would be much cooler, because then he could eat your grass cutting back on lawn care costs and furnish rides at birthday parties, then at least he would be of use. XO ThePeachy1

twilight vampire and unicorn, which is more sparkly

As you can see both are fictional and sparkly, go with the Unicorn

and that wraps up this weeks Non Advice. Like the magic 8 ball I have spoken and it was as usual, totally useless.

Don’t forget just 4 more days to enter my totally Peachy Birthday Blog Contest by simply leaving a comment on any blog post between now and the 22nd of April. Each day you leave a comment gets you 1 entry for one of the 3 COUNT THEM THREE Peachy Prize Packages I am giving away. ( See the top Orange nav bar for more details, additional entries, how to speak pig latin, and the probability of an alien attack in your local area in the next 48 hours).

XO

PEACH OUT

A PSA for your Coochie

Posted on April 18, 2011 by ThePeachy1 in It's Juicy, Moronic Mondays, The Peachy Tree

Hello my dear friends. I just got home last night from the always awesome New Orleans but this time it had an extra dash of double rainbow glitter farting unicorns because it was for a blog conference. I was able to spend 3 days with some great old friends, be able to put some 3d faces to online friends and then meet some new people that I am pretty sure will become awesome friends.

In true dingleberry form I am overbooked like a $20 flight to Hawaii, so while I unpack and try to figure out what the hell my family ate that used every dish including the Holiday dishes in the 3 days I was gone I pulled one of my oldies but goodies for your Moronic Monday.

(DON’T FORGET 5 MORE DAYS UNTIL THE BIRTHDAY GIVE AWAY DRAWING ! 3 FINAL WINNERS WILL BE DRAWN ON THE 23RD FROM THE DAILY COMMENTS BETWEEN NOW AND THEN ! )

Today is the day that a lot of us go forth in epic battle against our common foe. Monday. It sucks so bad even the calendar says “WTF” after a Monday.

A BeingPeachy tradition is that I share a story from my past ( or present) that points out just how big of an asshat one person can be. Particularly me. I throw any remanents of pride under the bus like a mobster trying to make a plea deal. Moronic Monday has been going on for a while and it’s pretty clear I barely even have a residue of pride left.

But there is a point to all my self deprecating humor, it is to make you smile and get you through your Monday battle with the hopes that you can be a little less of a Moron than ~~I always am~~ I have been in a brief moment or two. Let’s get this party started.

The setting: my house, well over a decade ago.
The issue: I had to wear pantyhose to work every day even in the sweltering heat. That weekend I had been on this mad hiking trip in 3782 degree weather with 700% humidity. I think I wore jorts because it was the 90’s and I was that cool. To finish off my trilogy of terror the next day I went to a 50 acre water park and proudly sloshed my wet shorts over my bathing suit wearing sexy self over every inch of that hell pit.

As ~~all~~ most of you ladies who experience insane heat know there are 3 deadly things to avoid in extreme heat.

1-Long walks/hiking in the heat in jorts ( thigh length jean shorts).
2-Short walks in extreme heat wearing panty hose.
3- Wet shorts over your bathing suit at a huge water park after doing 1 or 2.

So you get the picture. If you don’t here is a visual aid. My thighs had less skin on them than your knuckles after a cheese grater incident.

Thank you Walt Disney for lending me tinks butt as a visual aid.

Yes even the fold where your butt cheeks meets your thighs was red and skinless. (if you know not which fold I speak of, you’re young show your but off while you can, soon you will be able to hold a pencil there). I know hot right? You think I’m sexy, you want to kiss me.

I tried everything and let me tell you people soaking in a tub is like sitting in boric acid, not really a brilliant idea when you are in the chaffed thighs and butt hall of fame.

So I sat around the house in a sun dress going commando cause that’s my privilege plus the idea of fabric even possibly touching my thighs made me scream in an octave high enough to break glass.

After about the 30th ibuprofen chugged down with medicinal vodka. I went to the cupboard like old Mother Hubbard to dig for some type of glorious topical relief.

Then I saw THIS and I heard Angels singing.

gold bond cream and angels singing for quick relief

I only saw the parts I underlined. Quick Fix - Relief . blah help. Angels singing

I had never used this product and had no idea how it ended up in my cabinet. Clearly it was divine intervention. ~~or I bought it when my kids had poison ivy/sumac/oak.~~

So I grabbed the tube of angelic cream that promised a quick fix, fast relief and all that jazz. ~~probably because my judgement was impaired due to alcohol and or pain~~.

I slathered up my thighs and butt like I was putting on SPF Eleventy Kabillion for my trip to the surface of the sun.

Confident in my new found angelic cure I walked into the living room and flopped my sun dress wearing commando butt on the couch. The events that followed will be reenacted with interpretative dance since I am pretty sure I either blocked it out or blacked out not sure.

diagram of what mushes together when a woman crosses her legs

Important information aka the beginning of the end..

This seems like a good time for an important PSA

Sensitive girly parts + RAGING FIRE CREAM OF DEATH = FIRE CROTCH

I call this one the flaming crotch of death.

In the midst of the medicinal scalding of my lovely lady hump. I thought fast and headed for the bathroom to rinse of my milkshake and stop the pain. I was so graceful and lady like I heard it looked like a ballet.

I realize that looks like a squid shot out of my crotch, but it's interpretative dance people, those are flames

This ends the interpretive dance section of this post. ~~( mostly because I suck at it )~~.

The truth is. If you ever had a dog, or been at someones house with a dog, or seen a dog in a park or a neighbors yard. You already know what I looked like.

All reports say this is a more accurate depiction of my movements

and I screamed .. ” E ! E! E!” all the way ~~home~~ to the bathtub, where I flipped myself over the edge of the tub like a walrus beaching it’s fat whiskered body up on the ledge to get a fish from the trainer. I thrust my trembling legs up the wall as if I were doing a head stand on the tub drain and put my hoo hah as close to the ice cold running water as possible for a few ~~hours~~ minutes.

In just 5-10 ~~hours~~ minutes it stopped burning so bad that I was willing to drive a mini van through my eyeball to distract me from the pain while I amputate my crotch. Luckily I heal fast and my love tunnel was back offering boat rides again in just a couple of ~~years~~ days.

There ya have it guys, do NOT chemically scald your cooter ( love bump, milkshake, golden punannie, thumper bumper, snatch hatcher) today and there’s a good chance your Monday will be better than mine. My name is ThePeachy1 and I suffer from Epic Asshattedness.

Now don’t forget to leave me a juicy comment so you can be entered in my Birthday Blog to be drawn April 23. Rules on the top Orange nav bar

PEACH OUT !

** DISCLAIMER** 2 thighs and 1 Vaj were critically injured during in the making of this post. However they have recovered nicely since it was about a decade ago. They are still in therapy working out their hatred for me.
**ANOTHER DISCLAIMER** this is not a sponsored post, a review or anything other than a story of me being a twit. Obviously who would pay for advertising like that?”

Walking to New Orleans

Posted on April 15, 2011 by ThePeachy1 in FaceBook Fun, Funny Stuff Friday, It's Juicy, The Peachy Tree

OH baby. It’s a double Whammy. It’s Freaking Friday my lovelies AND as a super bonus. I am headed to New Orleans.

I will be meeting up with some friends I have known since Moby Dick was a Minnow. I will also be meeting people that have been friends on line and are a major part of my life. Then I hope I will make some new friends.

If you are going to be there make sure to look me up. I look just like all these freaking pictures of me all of this stinking blog, twitter, facebook. So it’s not hard to find me. More importantly I am the super loud obnoxious southern drawl chick. Shouldn’t be too hard to find, if I were in Alaska. But ha, I will be in New Orleans so good luck.

Would have been super awesome if my business cards got here, the ones that say, ” writer, public speaker and unicorn trainer” I was going to put zombie life coach on there, but hell, I seriously hate zombies and I wanted to put zombie killer but then I thought having the word “killer” on my business card would just get my a guaranteed body cavity search by the big hand chick at TSA every single time. Where I always get the ” random selection” anyway because apparently the ” soccer moms” are the a serious threat. Or it could be the entire ” yeah you totally don’t look Thai thing. Whatever.

If I seem to be rambling it’s because my brain left for New Orleans like 12 hours ago, it’s currently at the Cat’s Meow singing, ” Your so Vain” and “Love Shack” . Only my body is here, waiting on my kids baseball uniform to dry so I can lay it out for him because Bob knows if I don’t get it laid out there is NO FREAKING way on earth the Droid and him could get him dressed and to his baseball game at 730pm tomorrow night. Geesh. I would also like to Thank my brain for making sure the Prince and Droid have clean clothes laid out for the next 3 days but not packing a single thing for my trip. In related news I found a wookie in my dryers lint trap. That was pretty scary. Also why do we trap lint? Is it lint season? Do we have a license to trap lint? Is there a limit? I am so confused right now.

Have a good weekend people. Think of me, smile, laugh, live, love and most of all, leave a comment so you can enter to win a present from my birthday blog give away contest it’s getting close. Be excited !