So...

I still haven't dont that "People of Walmart" story behind the picture thing. Eventually I'll get it rolling...maybe.

Thought of the Day: It's been a while...

Greetings Minions! It is none other than your fearless leader, Anna. I have a favor to ask. Could you all go to your bank accounts and transfer about $100 bucks to mine? Thanks bunches.

So anyway, let me first give a shout out to my old frienemy, Anonymous. I hope your herpes are staying at bay. Would hate to think you couldn't go protest the war on account of an itchy breakout. Was that too much?...I'll admonish myself later. So anyway, I hope you are all doing well. I know I am. Let's see, in the months since I last posted, I have fallen totally in love with performing improv, and just recently started writing sketch comedy, with a very promising response to my sketches.  The Pushers are awesome teachers! Oh, plus Horatio Sanz retweeted me on twitter, and I felt like the coolest kid on the block. I've also made some amazing friends who actually don't think it's cool to suck. They pretty much all work in the Hampton Roads comedy underground, or perform in bands, or are just awesome for breathing. It only took me fourteen years to become a part of this, but I don't plan on doing anything else, now that I have found it. I am sure the fact that I am amazingly happy makes that vein on the side of Anonymous's bulbous dome just throb with hate. Don't worry Anonymous, someday they'll find a cure for stupid, and then maybe you can do something great, too...lol, naw.

So let's see, current events. Lindsey Lohan is getting paid %1M to show her boobs in Playboy. You all know how much I love Playboy, so the thought of her booze-hound ass polluting the pages kinda makes me want to drink. But since so many old perverts want to see if her carpet matches her drapes, I'm sure that Hef will make a nice return...so that's good.

So Stephanie Meyer is still being encouraged to write...which means that Nietzsche could be right. I wonder what she's writing about, this time. Witches who only cast spells on people who have engaged in sex outside of marriage, and instead of flying on brooms, they drive Mercedes because their virgin butts can't ride in anything but the best...oh, and they sparkle, for no apparent reason, at 2:30 AM (the Witching Hour is 3 AM, but we all know how Ms. Meyer likes to fuck everything up...so...)

Well, it's time for me to place my offspring in their slumber pods (as my daughter sings Old McDonald had a farm, "he i he i ho...wit a him ho here and a him ho dare....he i he i ho,"....my kids are awesome), so I will dismiss you from this meeting of brains with one final thought. Occupy Wall Street, serious business, or just another opportunity for t-shirt companies to capitalize on new-age rabble rousers. Discuss.

Life: The best way to learn to laugh.

I just started reading my first "text book" in the field of work I should have been studying all along.  It only took me three degrees to finally balls up, and take a step into the right direction. The book is Truth in Comedy, a manual of improvisation, and the dream is fourteen years in the making.  Here is a little story, for those who care (or are still awake and need something to read...)

In 8th grade, I had characters.  When my friends would tap my head, I would change channels to a new character, and just go with it.  From this was born the "Anna's going to NYC," plan.  After graduation, I was supposed to hop on the first plane to New York, and hit the comedy scene, and eventually, these characters that had been the brain-children of a daydreaming 13-year-old girl would become the next Mary Catherine Gallagher, Arianna and Roseanne Roseannadanna  (not that one could ever compare with the magnificent Gilda Radner).  Instead, I got wrapped up in a bad relationship, tried to join the navy, and went to junior college...and then college...and then grad school.  I started a family with a wonderful man, and had two of the most animated, beautiful, funny kids imaginable.  I lived.  I am now 27-years-old, and because I decided to follow the advice of a man who thankfully made the statement that life is too short, and tomorrow may never come, I auditioned for a sketch comedy/improv group, and made the cut.  Now, at 27, I am pursuing a dream that I was beginning to think would always be just that, a dream.  I am not one who gets preachy, but I asked god to open a door for me, just open it, and I would walk through it...and low and behold, a door was presented.

Some might wonder whether I regret not taking that step nine years ago; whether I regret not stepping on a plane bound for NYC in pursuit of my dream.  No. I do not. Why? Look, I'm a funny woman.  I know that.  Even without people telling me I’m funny, I know I am.  My sense of humor has been my shield, my friend and my backbone most of my life, but at 18, I didn’t know a damn thing about life.  In the nine years since graduating from high school, I have lost a parent, fallen down, gotten up, gotten married, been by myself, dealt with the navy, had two whacky kids, read way too many text books, made friends, lost friends, learned to appreciate things, learned to hate things I once took for granted, become friends with my mom, become friends with my enemies, been crapped on (both literally and figuratively), fallen down some more, adapted, overcome, and learned to believe in myself.  I am finally a complete person.  I am finally ready for this.

Life is a trip.  If you have not developed some kind of a sense of humor after living life, you have obviously not been paying attention. When a door opens, don’t watch it close in hopes that it will open again because it just might not, and for goodness sake, make something out of what you’ve got, because life is the best lesson any of us will ever be given.

I used to think this phrase was so cliché, and really, it is…but right now, it seems so appropriate: Live, Laugh, and Love.

-Anna

And now this...

My blog has been silent for a while, as I have been fresh out of interesting things to say (...just being honest).  I have decided to start something new on my fun little page called, "A picture is worth a thousand words..."  I'll, of course, be drawing from a stockpile of "People of Walmart" photos, as well as other photos of shameful citizens embarrassing (or perhaps not so embarrassing, judging by their blatant disregard for tact) pictures that have found their way to the very public World Wide Web.  I will be challenging myself to write a one thousand word essay about the photo (narrative style, research paper style...really whatever I am feeling that day), and will be extending the challenge to others. 

Now remember, in order to comment on my page (and offer your own 1,000 word contribution), you have to be one of my Legions, so join my page, and let's have fun, because that is what Annarchy is all about; shameless, vulgar, profane, border-line personality disorder laden fun.  Come join the party! 

And now...

Back to our regularly scheduled programming...

For my own good measure...

Dear Anonymous,

While I respect your right to free thought (and thank god it's free, because otherwise most people would be paying out the ass for pure garbage), I find the points you attempted to make to be kind of...well...stupid.  Point one, that I make mention of the individuals from the blog in question regularly.  Actually, I never make mention of anyone regularly accept my children, and this is mostly because they are far more entertaining than most all adults.  Point two, that misery loves company. I am sure it does.  You'll have to let me know. Point three, that I am a drama queen.  Oh honey, I am just the Queen...no drama needed. Oh, and the richest part of all.  Something about Prince Charming. Oh surely you jest.   

Oh I could continue, as there is so much more I'd like to say, but as you chose to make your attacks under a cloak of anonymity I sadly cannot make personal attacks on you, as you have on me.  Oh how I would love to put a name and face with a wordy individual such as yourself...mostly to make avoidance easier.

Well, anyway, I have this life to live.  I'm really quite enjoying it.  Ok then...buh-bye now..

Aaaanyway...

I just got invited to a new sketch comedy group...seriously.

Thought of the Day...

So the other night, when all of the storms were headed through here, all of the tornado warnings were going up, and the National Weather Service was issuing guidelines for the storm.  In these guidelines, those in building were told to find shelter in an inside room on the lowest level of the dwelling they were in...while those in mobile homes were told to find shelter in a car or outside.  What I deduced form this was, "If you are in a structurally sound building, find shelter.  However, if you are in a trailer, your ass is better off outside with the tornado. Good luck."  Does this make anyone else say what the fetch!?

Thoughts...

I have the drive to do it.  I have the ambition. I even have a pretty alright starter resume complete with training and experience. What I don't have is the ability to drop everything in one place, and go to L.A. or NY to audition for everything under the sun until I get lucky. I decided to start my family first, and then pursue my dreams. I do not regret this.  I look at my kids, and realize that, even with as crazy as they make me at times, I never want to know what life without them or their dad would be like.  I would never go back and do anything differently.  That being said, I do wish there were more opportunities at my disposal out here.  There are auditions out here.  Heck, one of the biggest shows on TV is filmed just 5 hours away from here.  The thing is, I have no help.  My husband is active duty military, and no one in my life seems to understand this dream I have had since I was 8 years old.  I want to act. I want to get lucky enough to get cast on a TV show before I'm 50.  I want to make people laugh.  I want to make people cry. I want to do all of this while still being a very active mom.  Is that possible? I Know I would not be the only person in history to pull it off. 

I am obviously just thinking out loud, but I think I have more than what it takes.  I am not some bimbo who wants to act because she was once told by some sleazy old Sears photographer that she should be a model.  I want to bring scripts to life; bring my own script ideas to life.  I want to tell stories and be a part of the art form that is film.  I want to be someone else between "action" and "cut"...Mike will be on shore duty, again, when I'm 30...maybe I can make it happen, then...I sometimes spread myself too thin, and forget that I count for something, too. Maybe I can volunteer at the VB theatre.  There's always amateur night at the Funny Bone.  It will happen...I just don't know when or how...but I do know that it will.

...I just need a boost.

Thought of the day...

It would be kind of interesting if Pastor Terry Jones, the inbred from Florida, died today. Let me set the stage. He walks up to the pearly gates, smiling proudly because he is sure he's in the right place, just for God to say, "HA! APRIL FOOLS!" and down the chute 'e goes! Awe, to be a fly on the walls of heaven.

Say... wonder if the celebrate April Fools Day in Heaven...

Thought of the day...

Trojan's new ad just does not appeal to me.  When a condom ad could very easily double as an Icy Hot ad, this does not excite me...it will be cold, and then it will burn...a lot! No thanks!

Rant of the Day: Married Couples

Married couples.  Now, even though I am married, I do not feel that my husband and I fall into the category I am about to "rip on."  You know the ones. These couples on Wheel of Fortune who are all like, "I have been happily married, for 32 years, to the love of my life, Howard." Bullshit! Booooolsheeeeeet! No one has been happily married for 32 years.  I never tell people I have been happily married for 5 and a half years, because I would be lying, and my mother smacked that dirty habit outta me a LONG time ago! Happily married. Happy, happy, happy.  Except for the time your wonderful husband, Howard, slept with the nanny.  Bet you weren't too happy then, Gladys ol' gal, were ya? Why do they have to be so freaking phony! I love Wheel of Fortune. I love solving the puzzle before the dipshit from Yale who thinks he's so great because he knows how to talk good. But those assclowns ruin the end for me.  There are no happy endings for me when Howard and Gladys come to play.

Then there are those couples who think it's ok to give us normal couples advice.  "Well Anna, it's give and take, it's give and take." Great, he can GIVE me his wallet and I will TAKE his credit card to the mall.  There's always that woman with the perfect hair, the perfect clothes, the perfect husband, and the oh so well behaved kids who wants to tell me how to remedy my severly dysfunctional family. At dinners out with other couples, all I want to do is drink and NOT have to wipe up boogers and food off of my kids for a few hours, and all they want to do is tag-team my husband and I on who needs to make a greater commitment to our marriage.  As I'm texting my best friend about the ugly-ass dress this bitch is trying to pull off, and my husband is using his fork as a toothpick and his knife as a tiny mirror to pluck the remnants of steak from his teeth, all I can think is, "who does this June Cleaver bitch think she is???  So we aren't up each others asses 24/7. So Mike smokes. So I bitch...constantly.  It's who we are! It's what we do!"

No, we are not Barbie and Ken.  We're more like Dan and Roseanne.  We have our ups, we have our downs.  We are not always thrilled with each other, but we are both smart enough to know that no one else would have made this long of a commitment to either of us, so we stick with it. We take it day to day, praying that neither of us will wake up to the other putting a pillow over our face, and that's ok...that is ok.

Thought of the day...

Watching the new Scream trailer...is it just me, or does the masked killer sound a lot like Charlie Sheen? That bastard's everywhere!!!

Brain Exhaust...

Well, I'd better put on my safety helmet, because if I want to make anything happen, I'd better expect to fall hard a few times...awe hell, I might as well put on the knee pads as well...now where did I leave those last time I...

Thought of the day...

Mock Charlie Rant:
Alien supermodel assassins from Uranus are coming to steal your children and dress them in drag!!! (yes?...no?)

Thought of the day...Part III

Look, I understand that habitual liars can't help it, SOMETIMES, but at other times, why don't they just take the high road and shut the heck up! All I want to do is say, "no you didn't, no you can't and no you aren't," but instead I just smile and nod and say, "oh, that's cool..."...but no, no it's not...Penelope! (no, you did NOT invent oxygen so I do NOT owe you 10 cents every time I breathe!)

Offensive Photos

Should one even be allowed to look this good...but seriously folks, should this even be allowed...

Thought of the day...Part II

You know why I can't stand people like Snookie?  Here I have a dream that I am willing to put a lot of work into (but my kids always come first, which is why my dream is on hold), meanwhile, she is famous for being a drunk, uncouth, loud-mouthed little troll who got picked out of a crowd to be on a show because of her ability to exhibit those abilities to a very accommodating public.

Thought of the day...

Who came up with the name of the US operation over Libya?  It sounds like something a celebrity would name their kid.

Thought of the day...

The Real World is beginning it's 25th season in Vegas...more repressed sluts, sleazy party boys and closet homosexuals...but now in HD!!!

Thought of the day...

Keira Knightley's mouth makes me uncomfortable. There, I said it. It's so small and fish-like. It's like god ran out of people mouths...

Thought of the day...

So Mike was joking with his dad about building a two bedroom in-law sweet for he and Mike's mom and for my mom, and I said, "yeah, they'd be like Three is Company for old people.  Their theme song would be, "come and knock on my door...if I don't answer call an ambulance...because I probably fell down..."

Rant...because I can't stand that b*tch...

Just gotta say it.  Hey you dumb b*tch, it's not a villa.  It's an apartment. A villa has more than two bedrooms and a patio. Thank god I'll never have to be in a room with you again.  I was nice because I had to be, not because I wanted to be. Truth be told, I can't stand your phony ass!...Wow that felt good.


(yeah, I really don't like her...)

Offensive Photos

It may not be an old ladies butt-crack, but it offends me!

For years we have spelling and grammar pounded into our brains, just to find out the the genius marketing department at Hot Wheels are a bunch of illiterate idiots who missed about ten out of thirteen years of mandatory (use term loosely) education...tell me what's wrong with this picture...I'll wait...

Thought of the day...

I am now "following" Charlie Sheen on Twitter.  The entertainment value is undeniable. I mean the man refers to himself, in third person, and The Warlock.  An unemployed, winning warlock that drinks tigers blood and apparently likes baseball analogies a lot (I guess it makes sense being that the only descent film role he ever had was that of a baseball player).  In short, I was curious. Charlie Sheen is like a multi-car pile-up caused by a train explosion during Mardi Gras. How can you not look?!

Thought of the day...

James Franco is getting his PhD at Yale, and not the honorary kind like Alice Cooper has. I mean like the real, "you have to study and go to class and refrain from smoking pot with undergrads," kind.  When I heard he was going back to school, I figured he was getting a BA in...like...acting. 

Living in a universe where James Franco is getting a PhD from an Ivy League (*a second-rate one, based on the highly regarded opinion of Mr. Howell, but an Ivy none-the-less), I don't feel nearly as stupid anymore.  In fact, the world feels as if it may actually be my oyster.  I didn't even know Franco could read!

I wonder if they let him become a Skull...maybe part of his hazing was to host the Oscar's with Anne Hathaway (dress wearing optional).

*that was my disclaimer...that's all I got, people.

Offensive Photos

Well you'd better take them off of the burner, then, because they appear to be melting...

Thought of the day...

Ever had a friend who was a real douchebag?  You know, that guy that you hang out with, but have no idea why, because you totally loath the bastard.  Anything you have done, he has done five times, and better, and faster, and would show you the pictures to prove it only they were lost in the fire that engulfed his apartment building...you know, the fire that have saved all of those crippled orphans from.  Yeah, that asshole.You know who he (or she) is.  We all have one. Why do we hang out with that guy?  I'll tell you why. Because everyone needs someone to hate.  That's right, I said it. We all want someone that we can detest because it creates a balance. Without that one irritating assclown, you would not appreciate all of the mediocre friends you have. 

Ok, I've just gotta say it...

WINNING!!!!!!!!

Ok...now I feel relevant.

Offensive Photos

Why am I not laughing...chances are, this poor woman is the mother of small children...she probably got tired of listening to her kids screaming about the lack of Poptarts in the pantry, grabbed her purse and left for Walmart, never taking into account the fact that, while folding laundry, she forgot to put back on the freshly laundered pair of pants that she hastily removed and threw into the wash after her youngest ralphed Cheerios all over her.  Why did she not put on another pair of pants...because she had not planned on having to leave the house.  Why didn't she think to do so before she left.  Did you miss the part at the beginning where I stated that she is probably the mother of small children.  She's lucky she grabbed her purse before she left and instead of the cat.

Rant of the Day: House Buying (Part I)

So my husband and I are int the process of buying a house.  God lord.  I'd rather be donating a kidney with no anesthesia! I don’t know how many of you have gone through this harrowing experience, but if you have yet to do so, let me give you a little run down on the journey from living in my brothers guest room to proud home owner (which I hope to be within a week). First you have to look at the houses.  Now, when looking at real-estate online, everything looks great…do not be deceived.  Everything is not as it seems.  House number five looked like our dream house on the outside; big front porch, garden, big yard for the kids. Inside; big brown spot on the ground and what looked like the remnants of a hastily removed chalk line. We're pretty sure it would have required us to ask the bank to pay for an exorcism before we moved in. Needless to say, that was a no. House number six, vacation home to Aragog the spider king.   A couple f the houses were...well...when you walk into a house and the roaches break into an extravagant rendition of, “Be our guest,” as impressive as that was (and no doubt expensive for all those mini-pyrotechnics), it’s still a no.  Finally, we found the house. This is the house we want.  However, then bank just didn’t want to part with it that easily.  No we are in the process of waiting to hear if we got the house, or if the other people vying for it won the bid.  I imagine this is what the homecoming queen race is like, accept instead of standing to lose a cheap crown and a bouquet of wilted carnations, we stand to lose a whole damn house...so I guess it's actually nothing like the homecoming queen race at all...ah well...

In short...buying a house is torture beyond explanation, but at the end of it all, I will finally have a place to keep my crap, walls to paint, and a room to put my Christmas tree.

The end.

Offensive Photos

Some people have real nerve in their fashion selections.  Absolute disregard for what is tasteful. What was he thinking wearing that simple pearl necklace with a biker jacket. It's one or the other dollface, one or the other!

Thought of the day...

My children have rendered me unable to project a full thought...I apologize for this, and hope to have something creative to say, tomorrow...

Rant of the Day: Mike Tyson the Bird Man of Animal Planet

Since retiring in 2006, Mike Tyson has been entertaining himself with various activities, but none of those seemed to fulfill his eccentric ambitions.  Enter pigeon racing.  No...your eyesight is not failing, you read that correctly.  His team of trainers; Three Italian-American men.  Now, to me, this part makes perfect sense because if you have ever met an Italian-American, you know we are not good athletes.  We have no sportsmanship what so ever, and we're just really not that good at anything (ok, not including baseball, but we're only really good at that because it involves our weapon of choice, a bat, and even still there are just a few of us who have been good at that...but I digress).  As I was saying, Italian-Americans suck at real sports, so we have apparently taken up racing birds so that we can feel that great pride that real athletes feel when they win something.  That's right, Ant'ny, no longer will you have to add another "Participant" ribbon to your mommas brag wall. Now you might actually be able to bring home that long awaited 9th place ribbon! Party time! 

Recap: A washed up Mike Tyson will have a group of halfwit, sweaty WOPS, and a cage full of diseased rats with wings work together to help him reclaim the glory that once was Heavy Weight Champion of the World...as long as the birds fly back, of course.  If they don't, at least Tyson won't look any more imbalanced than he has for the past, oh...how old is Tyson...yeah, that many years.

Animal Planet is capturing all of this awkward hilarity and marketing it as a serious reality series.  Silly network executives...silly, silly, rich old bastards. They're loaded.

Offensive Photos

Bertha, Sue and Sally only act like they are friends with Cindy because their husband's are fishing buddies.  Really, they can't stand that skinny bitch!

Thought of the day...

Suicide Girls keep getting more and more ugly.  You can have all of the pretty tat's you want, but if you have a hairy back, frowny-boobs and fupu, a Bettie Page do and ruby red lips does not sexy make.  Find yourself a new hobby...like bird watching...at night.

Thought of the day...

With all of the advances in cosmetic medicine, and all of the cheap "quick fix" options available at CVS and Rite Aid at our very disposal, why are there still so many unfortunate looking people out there? It's frightening! Put some concealer on that thing for petesake! Come on lady, wax your beard off! It's scaring my kids!

Charlie Rant (cont.)

Ladies, I've got good news.  One of "Charlie's Goddesses" has left the building, opening up a space for a new gal pal.  If you have experience is babysitting, porn, or making delicious onion rings (in the nude), put in your application, today! He prefers girls that look like trolls, so be warned, you may have to skip bathing for two or three...weeks. Skip a few nights of sleep, as well.  If you aren't a methhead, you'd better at least look like one.

Well, those are the application specifications.  Accepting applicant, today! 

Rant of the Day: The Many Exploits of Carlos Estevez

It seems that of late, we are all being bombarded with the exploits of one Carlos Estevez. Better known of course, as Charlie Sheen.  Yes, that would be the same Charlie Sheen that is paid nearly 2 million dollars an episode on "Two and a Half Men." At 2 mill an episode, for 24 episodes a season, my calculations are that he makes 48 million dollars a year, at least! (I passed basic math thanks to No Child Left Behind *insert proud grin, here*).  That's just not enough, though.  No, because of all of the mental stress that the network  has caused, he now needs 3 million an episode to support the family that he loves.  If by "family", he means, "coke and hookers addiction," I'll buy that.  Apparently 48 mill is just not enough to support 3 ex-wives, five kids, and all those porn stars he keeps locked in hotel bathrooms.  He needs an additional 24 on top of that to feel stable.  Well damn, and I thought we were doing fine at just under 40 thousand a year. Boy was I wrong! Hey, my kids mentally abuse me. Give me more money!

On Dateline, he was talking about the three things that feed his very essence and fuel his life with his "goddesses" (two 24-year-old ho's who he met on the cross-town bus).  My initial guess was: ecstasy, more ecstasy and Viagra, but apparently one of those things was supposed to be tiger blood.  My bad. Awe, but let's expand on these "goddesses," shall we. Charlie Sheen's goddesses are a Penthouse Pet/Hustler model/porn star and a Cali-Chronic X (yeah, pot mag) model.  Sorry gals, but not everyone can be Playmate material. Now get back to your corner bitch, you're losin' me money! (said the pimp who used to employ these two, upstanding, glorifird nannies). It was on their ways back to said corner that they stumbled upon some old guy with expensive drugs, and he was none other than, you guessed it, ol' Carlos Sheen with a bag of free "candy".  Recap: When you don't even rate on the scale of what Heff feeds his dogs, you become one of "Charlie's Goddesses."  I bet right about now they're wishing that they'd listened to Bosley when he directed them AWAY from the scary old guy on that show about a horny drunk who wears the same shirt every day, his gay brother and the fat kid. 

Of course now he's claiming to be drug free.  Dude, just because you had your dealer attach prescription lables to your cocaine and vodka, that does not make it legit!

Thought of the day...

I wonder if neo-Nazi skinheads realize just how utterly stupid they look with their bald, q-ball heads, in their red overall nickers, tube socks and untied combat boots.  I mean, honestly, are they going for the, "dense farmers son who porks sheep," look...because if so, they hit the nail right on the head!

Rant of the Day: Bethenny Ever After

Watching people who have no business having a fern bush, let alone a dog, shopping for their brand new baby; this crap should be shown in new parent classes on the, "what not do," day of class.  If you even need to ask the question, "what do normal people do when they are shopping for clothes for their kids?" while standing in the upscale children's clothing store, and then can't translate the 0-3 mo. label in your head, and then have to ask the nanny if you bring the "car-seat" (carrier) into the restaurant with you, because neither you, nor your halfwit husband, knows what to do with the baby, but also can't grasp the concept of carrying the baby in the carrier because it also attaches to the stroller...you probably shouldn't have any living things relying on you, including that novelty, purse-dog of yours (although you know exactly what to do when buying clothes for it???).


I apologize for that long, drawn out rant, wrought with poor grammar, but I was typing in steam of consciousness while watching the horrid train wreck that is "Bethenny Ever After."  Her husband just asked her how she will fair out when their nanny takes two days off...I'm voting for not well.


People who should not have kids.  There are lots of them.  Hell, I'm willing to bet that, in some persuasion, I fall into that realm.  After all, my kids run around naked about 60% of the time, and sometimes I call them by the dogs name...or the dog by the kids name...but at least I didn't need a nanny to help me care for my 3 -week-old whose clothing size I am not aware of because I am too busy calling my personal assistant a dumbass while bitching about the consistency of my soy latte (which I am surprised to find out costs more than a pair of infants pants...).


Long story short, children, unlike purse-dogs, cannot be kenneled when you want to go get your hair extensions redone, test drive a Ferrari, or take a holiday in the Hampton's.  Please, please, wealthy, witless nimrods, read a book before you bring home that helpless creature...I mean, eventually they are still going to tell you how stupid you are as they walk out the door with your $30,000 platinum card in hand...and they'd be right...but don't let them add, "on file with the CPS," to their reasons for hating you. Let them hate you for the same reason all spoiled, rich brats hate their parents.  You got them the wrong color Mercedes convertable for their 16th birthday.

Thought of the day...

After living back in the states just one month, I am already quite convinced that the only aspiration in some people's lives is to make it to the "People of Wal-mart" website...

Welcome to my blog...

If you are easily offended, or have any amount of conviction in anything, you are at the wrong place.  If, however, you have a sense of humor and enjoy making fun of famous people, stupid people, men and children (of which I have two...children, not husbands.  I can barely handle just the one), then you are at the right place. Enjoy your trip into the daily life of an over-worked, under-appreciated, over-educated, under-employed modern day domestic goddess!



~Anna