You Can't Make Me Be Thankful For Your Fake Anne of Green Gables, Dammit!

I'm so pissed right now at some of y'all. You know who you are. You will argue that you are intrigued, bored, or worst of all, fans. But I know what you really are. You are traitors, stupid, and worthy of waterboarding. Today, you will eat your fucking turkey and fucking potatoes, sit on your fucking couch with your fucking coffee and your fucking pie, and you will fucking turn on your fucking TV to PBS and then fucking watch mother-fucking Anne of Green Gables. What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. Y'all? Let me back up and provide some context,

Thanksgiving Bingo Won't Make Time With Your Family Any Less  Shitty, But Here's A Bingo Sheet Anyway, So Don't Say I Didn't Try...

My Great Grandma Ruth was a badass. She made bombs during WWII, and she once told me that she'd kissed 100 different guys before she got locked down by my great grandfather. And when she was in her 90s, she became something of a local celebrity. She and her best friend, Janine, attended Bingo every Tuesday without fail. They once were in a car crash, and despite being old as dirt, they told the EMTs that if it was their time to go, they'd rather go in the Bingo Hall. While there, a local TV scout spotted my Great Granny,

I've Got 83 Problems, But Buddha Ain't One...

I’d barely exchanged pleasantries with the mustachioed man named Ivan before he pressed a gun against me, drawing blood. Five painful minutes later, he tossed me aside, leaving me to survey the damage that was my first tattoo. I sat, staring at the black blot, tears dripping down my face, and whispered, “I did it. I’m alive. And it’s perfect.” * Of course I survived. Ivan gave me a skin lesion, not a lobotomy. And of course it was on fleek. I wouldn’t let my dermis be forever marked with just anything, unlike my sister, who permanently

The Only Creature In The World More Upset Than Me This Month Is A Friggin' Turkey

Oh, y'all, my kingdom for a cruise. More specifically, a cruise that sets sail Nov. 21 and doesn't return until Jan. 5. I'm not without a soul. I love the holidays as much as the next gal. Food, festiveness, parties, presents, decorations, drinks: what's not to love? Family. Family is what's not to love. Stop giving me that look. Stop it right now! You tell me TO MY FACE that your grandmother's politics give you reason to be thankful. You tell me TO MY FACE that your mother-in-law makes the season merry. You tell me TO MY FACE that you

Those Poor, Poor Pussies (and Puppies...): A Little Something-Something To Make Your Face Smile In The Wake of Armageddon

Last night, as America ran headfirst into the arms of an Orange Armageddon, my lesbian aunt-in-law sent me this text: "Do you think they will repeal marriage equality?" Then shit got even more real: "Or will his supporters just beat me to a pulp while wearing their white sheets and then go out for a beer?" If y'all are anything like me, you're flabbergasted that a Cheeto just became our country's President. Welp, them's the breaks, folks. I did my part and voted for somebody not him. It was up to the rest of you to do the same so

8 Steps To Getting That Quick and Nasty Divorce You've Always Wanted...

1) Buy something he/she absolutely hates. 2) Let he/she talk you into donating it to Goodwill. 3) Visit Goodwill later that week, spot that item on a shelf, and when your partner's back is turned, place it in your cart. 4) When he/she looks in the cart and asks, "What is THAT?," pretend you have never seen this item before your trip to this Goodwill. 5) Innocently say something along the lines of, "Isn't this fabulous? This would look SO good on our dining room table." 6) When he/she freaks out, raging, "We had that! That

They Actually Make Pumpkin Spice Cat Litter Now... (And 33 Other Seasonal Signs Of Western Civilization's Demise)

I damn near worship autumn, but this fall you won't find me humping any gourds. Okay. That's a lie. I might get a wee bit sensual with one sexy squash: So, yeah, that's my husband, Chris, indulging my fall fetish by agreeing to put on this piece of folk art from a kitschy gourd museum. And we can all agree that my man looks goooooood. Rawr? I'm just kidding. I do not get off on fleshy fall fruits, although, apparently, the rest of U.S.A. sure as fuck does. If you were to guess what a pumpkin looked like

I Found A Plastic Eggplant On The Highway (So, Yeah, This Is A Post About Penises)...

I found a dildo on Route 19 the other day. And it wasn't any wimpy wang-bang-thank-you-ma'am-er, either. This thing had hulk. This thing had heft. This thing had herpes. Ok, so, I'm guessing on that last one, because you obviously can't see viruses with your naked eyes, although some nudity is required for spotting those buggers, and by buggers I mean sores, because we're not talking crabs here, y'all. Anyway... I found this foot-long dong while sitting in road construction on the phone with my grandmother. She was all like, "I think I should make two cranberry pies for Thanksgiving,

I Lost Jesus In An Abandoned Grocery Store...

The girl wiggled in the plush lining of the coffin until she had made herself comfortable. Through the closed casket lid, she could hear the church people crying and carrying on. And then a body builder dressed as Jesus opened her sarcophagus and held out his hand to assist in her ascension. “You are in heaven, child,” said the muscled messiah. He then handed her a diapered doll and declared, “Here is the child you murdered.” The 12-year-old girl clasped the plastic infant to her breast, and tears shone in her eyes. “If only I hadn’t chosen to have

I Run Twitter Accounts for Psychic Cats...

Okay, y'all, I promise that this time I had the most. legit. reason(s). ever. for taking a particularly protracted hiatus from this here corner of the Internet. Turns out, while you were here, I was over there at that other section of the World Wide Web, earning my living as a bonafide feline social media strategist. Yup. You read that right. I run the social media accounts of three cats. And not just any cats. These cats are psychics. Legit fucking psychics, y'all. No worries. I'll wait here while you let that settle. You got it? No? Need another