So on Monday I sold a kidney to send something to my rockin’ babe Redneck Mommy.
This morning I sold the other one to HALF FILL my car with crack cocaine. Cause that shit is cheaper than that black gold, Texas tea, people.
And apparently you only have two of those babies, so I am planning on filtering my urine through a coffee filter. Cause that will work right?
So no more kidneys, no hope of no stinking therapy for my
blood sucking leeches darling children. Just gotta hope they follow in their mothers footsteps and get themselves knocked up to a cradle robber at 19. Or get a freaking job that doesn’t involve asking ‘you want fries with that?’, or develop an aversion to eating or being dressed in clothes, preferring black rubbish bags. Cause black is slimming and shit. And the ultimate in wash and wear. Stand outside while Mum hoses you down, with the added benefit of watering the garden, cause I am all about the multitasking AND conserving water to save the planet.
You are welcome.
So I can hear you saying, get to the point biatch, focus and let us know why you need to be a mutant and have extra hiding Ninja kidneys. Oh and why do you think your kids need therapy? Besides the obvious of never being able to live up to a mother who is so freaking fabulously awesome that they will forever be living in her shadow?
No, they are not adopted, BoxBoy.
Moo had a late class yesterday and her friend A, was sleeping over here afterwards. The girls were at the local university mixing carcinogens with DNA to make their own super mutant Damn Emo cancer. Apparently the teacher thought better of allowing Damn Emos to unleash their own designer cancer on the world, something about tenure and law suits and mutant babies or something, so they did something else. All I heard was yada yada yada when they were telling what they did instead, cause I was all depressed about not having a cancer named after me. Dammit.
So I was sitting in the lounge whispering soft sweet nothings to a freaking awesome glass of wine when I heard a commotion from the other side of the house. I turned up the TV to drown out the shrieks. As you do.
When my curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn’t hold on any longer and had to go to the bathroom, I wandered down there to find Moo and A giggling in her room, Too quiet in her room with the door closed.
‘Go into Too’s room Mum’
I walked in and found this:
Apparently the commotion I heard was A jumping Too, smothering her with a blanket while Moo put Ceiling Cat on her roof.
‘You want the URL so you can blog it Mum?’
Damn right, Damn Emo! So here it is: you can make your OWN CEILING CAT! Awesome.
After calming down I went back to my
lover wine. To find Boo sitting on the lounge, nekkid save a blanket that he previously used as toilet paper, strumming his git-arrrr. I looked a bit closer and sat down to plan how I am going to steal kidneys from people to pay for my own freaking therapy.
Mark. His git-arrr is named Mark. And apparently he is his BBF and I need to plan a birthday party for him. And he likes corn chips.
Oh and my kids bought me a present!
It is a personal fan that you can program to flash a message. And yes, my Damn Emos programmed it to say ‘Bite me Biatch’. Noice.
Anyone know of any good surgical supply websites? And if I snap freeze my victims kidneys will they still be viable?