Consider this your notice

Posted on July 28, 2010 by ThePeachy1 in It's Juicy

I don’t want anyone to say they didn’t know. None of this, ” I didn’t’ get the memo” crap around here people. You have here by been formally notified.

In 2 days it will be a special day. My Birthday. Friday July 30th.

Yep.

Now some of you know me a little better than others and some of you know me well enough to have blackmail pictures. None the less I have decided to even the playing field by holding a contest. Yes that’s right. But unlike all the other blogs out there that have contests. This one will be different. Way different.

You are invited to email me letters, poems, jokes, and pictures of whatever you think is the bestest gift I would want. These will be ~~probably the only thing I get so I am totally counting on you for my happiness~~, myvirtual birthday presents, and your entry into the contest.

The prize, which I think you will all agree is the best ever give away of all times is, when I take over a private island I will invite you to come live on my friendly island with smexy butlers and fountains of vodka. Now some of you may say, “wait a minute here woman, that’s not a real prize”. But your wrong, it is a real prize, just a real as the virtual presents you are sending me.

See it’s all good, I will mentally enjoy your virtual gifts and smile, and you will mentally be allowed to visit my tropical island of dreams.

Now that’s a deal.

So get to writing, photo shopping or image stealing so I can have presents this year. Email them to me at beingpeachy@gmail.com

Make sure to include whatever name you want them to be from and if you have a blog the link to it. I will be posting these on my birthday. This Friday, so go ahead and get them in. I am ~~drooling~~ anxiously awaiting at my inbox for my presents. SQUEEEEEEEEE !! Plus you guys are so creative.

PEACH OUT.

Tell it Tuesday-A non Advice Column

Posted on July 27, 2010 by ThePeachy1 in 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” (Not making this up the link to the screenshot is right here. ) So if you send in your question, which your totally welcome to do, tobeingpeachy@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”.

Dear The Peachy One,

Say you have this friend. This really nice friend. This really super nice friend. This really super nice friend in a wheelchair. And say you’re visiting this really super nice wheelchair driving friend and brought along, oh I don’t know, your two kids and two dogs. And while your at your really super nice wheelchair driving friend’s house, you’re eating all their food, sucking up all their air conditioning, using roll upon roll of toilet paper (not that you personally have a bathroom / bowel / inccontinence issue, but your younger child is newly potty trained and goes to the potty every 2.4 minutes). So say you run thru the drive thru of a wonderfully wonderous house of chicken. And your super nice wheelchair driving friend twists your arm hard and fast, leaving you with a huge bruise and wounded ego, and steals your money so you can’t pay. Then say you go with your really super nice wheelchair driving friend to the haircut place. And behind your back, while you’re not looking, they PAY FOR YOUR KIDS’ HAIRCUTS!!!!

Thanks,
Pissed at The Gimp

Dear Pissed at THE Gimp; how strange that I know exactly the gimp you speak of and have had several dealings with this particular jedi myself. I must warn you the force is strong in this one. She can provide a quick crotch kick and simultaneous throat punch that will render you helpless. From a hospital bed this gimp smashed me to the floor with a pillow. You can not win. Do as all of our husbands have done and accept your station in life humbly. Also please give the wheeled one all my love and tell the vicious witch I love and miss her dearly. While your passing out msgs tell her evil spawn I do the booty dance in their honor. They will understand. The only technique I have found useful when dealing with her is to place tv remotes, phones, and other wanted items on the highest shelf. However if you happen to have brought along a dead scorpion that could work, and her husband would call it terror therapy, because well he would. So enjoy. Love- ThePeachy1

Ok even this is a tad too much plus this Thai chick doesn't look afraid here.

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Dear ThePeachy1

My friends on facebook seem to either whine constantly over mondane things, send test of my religion or snidely insult me in a passive aggressive way. Unfortunately this is my family and mostly my in laws, I feel inhibited as to what I can say and do on my own facebook due to them lurking in hiding to sling an insult. Please help.

Walking on Glass

Dear Walking on Glass; I think we have all dealt with this on some level or another, be it face book or blogs. The way I see it you have 3 clear cut choices. 1- continue for eternity walking on egg shells and build up pent up anger until you flip out at the family gathering on thanksgiving and go down in history as the first Cranberry Serial killer. 2- Create another facebook account for just the cool friends where you can let your hair down and say as you please and do not let anyone in your family know about it. Sort of like a Russian spy, but don’t say spy things cause the FBI reads facebook and you will go down like a cheerleader at homecoming on the quarterback. Then your family will say OMG it’s true we knew there was something up and they will sell you out cause family sucks like that. Then there is the 3rd option. Post a warning that it’s your facebook, and your friends and you will say and do as you damn well please and if they don’t like it they can remove or block you, and if they bitch or moan you block or unfriend them. This option would require more balls than a Christmas Tree and probably would put the kabosh on family gatherings going smoothly so choose wisely little padawan. I would probably do a mix of 2 and 3, since I have tender feet and walking on eggshells just aint my style. Love- The Peachy1

Don't end up like this. FBI does not mean FaceBook Intern

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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. Is your family too busy licking windows on the short bus to recognize that your batshit crazy? Blame yourself, no seriously, if you would have taught her the difference between Movies, TV and real life maybe she would know he’s not a real vampire. But since you didn’t then I guess you have no recourse other than to sew garlic into her underwear, and leave holy water and wooden stakes laying around when he visits. I don’t know if this kills the new sparklie vampires or not but hey it will send a message. My goodness do you realize the drama of the werewolf/vampire wars you will become entangled in? Also if 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 and furnish rides at birthday parties, then at least he would be of use. Love 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.

PEACH OUT

Moronic Monday

Posted on July 26, 2010 by ThePeachy1 in Moronic Mondays

I went to a very nice high school. It was back in the dark ages, you know when our parents didn’t have a clue as to the horrible things we did or frankly just didn’t give a shit. I look back now as a parent and think of how many levels of loosing my mind I would free fall through if my children did 1/8th of the things I did. All in all it’s a miracle any of us survived. It was the 80’s in Florida just a short jaunt from Daytona where I received more education than Dear old THS could have ever taught me. MTV had recently came out and they played music videos, no seriously they used to do that. It was the time of Big Hair bands, and Break Fast Club.

Just like Breakfast Club everyone was in a click and just like Breakfast Club everyone partook in the occasional wacky tabacky. Even the Brains, the Jocks and the Princesses. We had stoners and they were funny but the majority of us would never have done something so forward as to own it. Or so I thought. I guess in all my clueless fun filled skipping partying days I had no actual gauge on reality. I went to a very nice school, that was so much fun it should have been a TV show. Constant pranks and passing through the parking lot to take a swig of alcohol in your trunk was par.

So there I am in Mrs G. art class aka time to listen to your walkman while she has her back to the class for an hour. Some slept, some left the class unnoticed and slipped back in and many drank alcohol during this class, disguised in a 7/11 big gulf cup filled with sprite and md 20/20.

All was peaceful and virtually perfect in our little kingdom or happiness until the day the proverbial shit hit the fan.

Word came down from an office aid that Our Principal was going to let the new drug dogs come to our school to show what a perfect school we were. Oh how he viewed us with Rose colored glasses. This meant 1 thing serious TROUBLE.

I immediately warned the stoners in the class, and then 3 underclassmen with instructions to get everyone, anyone who has anything and meet me in the parking lot. I didn’t want anyone to get in trouble, unlike breakfast club our click lines were not solid we would all fade into the other clicks seamlessly and in general everyone got along.

We hit every classroom sometimes like mission impossible spies and sometimes like rats diving off a sinking ship. It was organized chaos with a singular purpose. Students were getting called out of class by other kids, locker combinations are shared, car ashtrays are being dumped it’s insane, sneaking special ops insane. I thought we may end up with a baggie or 2 to be disposed of but oh man did I think WRONG. We ended up with what was closer to a friggin hefty sack, where on earth could we put this.

The light bulb goes off, everyone is to dump everything under our Dear Principals car. Not in it, but under it. A virtual running firemans brigade was set up and the offending plant was quickly planted. Directly under Mr M’s car.

We all washed up and snuck back in our classrooms. ( why is snuck not a word? well it is now damn it) We all waited, wondering if everyone from the Valedictorian to the Long haired stoner had properly rid every last seed and roach from every crack and crevice. For the first time ever at our school, all you heard were the teachers teaching. While our hearts beat out of our chests and everyone palms were a little more than moist.

Then they came, like 4 legged lie detectors with gianormous teeth like a freaking Pterodactyl . Down one hall, barking at nearly every other locker, one poor soul was coming out of the bathroom when the vicious animal alerted on his crotch. A few of the alerted lockers were searched and the poor crotch kid was found to be ok. But the dogs were clearly going wild in every inch of our school and nearly every person. Our dear Principal smiled with each unfounded alert, thus boasting to the Police what a fine school we had.

Then as they were headed to the front to leave, the dogs lost their shit. When I say lost their shit I mean they went friggin insane, gnashing teeth, guttural barking and dragging their handlers like water skiers behind a boat. The bell had rang and we were all out to watch as the entire K9 ensemble alerted like mad at our Principals car.

They looked underneath at the virtual ganja buffet laying on the pavement under Mr M’s car. Amazed, dumbfounded and slightly pissed.

Slipping on his rose colored glasses our Dear Principal made the deceleration that this was clearly a joke by a rival school to make us look bad. The police took our party favors. Our reputation of the “Good” school remained intact. It wasn’t a farce, we had no fights, we had very little discipline and we all were able to work together. Now if our damn Football team could just win a game.

Woof.

PEACH OUT…