There is a magnetic field

around the fucking dishwasher at my house.

"Someone" is physically in capable of putting a fucking dish in it.

I think there's a force field. You know, like when Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker are fighting with the light sabers and it makes what "wooohmp" noise?

That's around my dishwasher.

I was puking sick on Sunday. Monday I awoke to old oatmeal bowl in the sink. Coffee cup in the sink. And a pan from making his dinner.

I ignored that shit.

Today when I got home from work and there was another half filled oatmeal bowl (yes, with some water and stuck on top of yesterday's oatmeal half water filled bowl), 4 spoons, another coffee cup, his work coffee cup and tupperware containers.

What the fuck?

So because I don't feel like a fucking fight, I fucking put on my Princess Leia panties and fought that fucking force field light saber and proved the dishwasher is not made of Darth Vader bullshit.

Coming soon to a house near me:

1. How to put shit into the dishwasher
2. How to put toilet paper on the spinny thing and not on the counter - AND as a bonus course, putting it so it goes over the top of the roll.

Life's rules

I don't have very many solid "rules" one has to abide by. I'm one of those damn free spirits. My poor husband is so anal and organized. I make it a point to drive him bat shit crazy at least once a day if not more. I do though, believe whole heartedly, in a few rules of life to live by. It's made me pretty successful at whatever I have tried to accomplish.

1. There are two kinds of people in life. Those that pick their nose privately in the bathroom and those that pick their nose in the car for all to see. I for one like to pick my nose in the car. It's way more entertaining to watch people recoil in horror.

2. Never trust anyone who doesn't like bacon. Seriously. It is the food of the gods. Perfection at it's best.

3. Shower once a day and after a workout.

4. Don't expect to enjoy the oral fruits of labor from your partner if you don't give back in equal enjoyment.

5. Look yourself over in the mirror before you leave the house. Because if you don't, it will be the one day you go commando and have a gigantic gaping hole in the ass of your pants.

Now go forth and give blow jobs while picking your nose. You can thank me later.

Smooches.
Lorena

Fuckity Fuck Fuck Fuck

-My father in law is VERY concerned that at daycare my son puts toys in his mouth that other kids have touched.

Really?

Find something else to worry about.

-I spent the weekend with my husband's friends. Corection. I spent the weekend in my husband's friend's spare room because they spent the day jamming on ass-loud music and I needed to protect my child's ears.

- My husband's friend removed ALL living room furniture (threw it out/sold it/whatever) and now here is his living room accessories:
1. Microphone and Stand (3 of each)
2. Speakers (4)
3. Amps (2)
4. Full blown drum set (1)
5. Equipment stand for full dj'ing equipment and other computer shit that holds his music
6. 3 barstools
7. And that's about it

Grow the fuck up and get some furniture. You are a 40+ year old man

- Fuck. I am tired. Cranky. I need a break.

I love my son but I need Margaret time.

How the fuck do I do that and not give my son to my inlaws who piss me the fuck off?

Really? So my son is supposed to live in a bubble and NEVER have exposure to germs?

I see where that got you - my husband is a sickly person. PErhaps if he had breathed some germs and gotten some damn germs in his mouth......

Psycho Celebrity Tuesday

Welcome to Psycho Celebrity Tuesday. Late Tuesday, but what's your point? Our first Psycho Celebrity is none other than the Psycho Queen herself, Ms. Angelina Jolie. (applause) Why psycho you ask?

1. She carried a vile of Billy Bob Thorton's blood around her neck. I don't know about you, but Billy Bob seems to be one sick mother fucker as it is.

2. She adopts children like they are candy. Yeah, yeah she's saving children in war torn countries. I get that. But most people collect stamps or Lladro figurines. She collects children. The only difference between her and Mrs. Dugger is that not all of Jolie's kids came out of her crotch.

3. She stole Brad Pitt away from Jennifer Aniston. Fine. Give me that look. Yes, Brad had a hand in the failure of his marriage, but for pete fuck's sake, look at the woman. I'd do Jolie. If I wasn't afraid she'd kill me afterwards.

4. She can't be human.

5. She carried a VILE OF BILLY BOB THORTON'S BLOOD around her neck. Yes, I said that before, but it's so fucking whacked that it deserved to be mentioned twice.

Ms. Jolie's publicist refused to comment.

Come back next week for more sheer mindless entertainment.

Kisses,
Lorena

What's Pissing Me Off

You see over there - on the left? Where it talks about what's pissing us off? Here's what's pissing me off:

1. A husband who has to blame every-fucking-thing on me.

• Son pukes? Moi fault
• Son teething? That's me!!
• Laundry machine set to a cycle other than "Normal" so it takes 45 years to do one load of laundry even though I didn't do the last load of clothes - THAT ME TOO!
• Coming next - America's healthcare crisis, immigration and global warming - All Trixie Twatwaffle's fault

2. In-laws - enough said.

3. that's it for now.

Repeat after me

It's simple. Repeat after me. V-A-G-I-N-A. There now, was that so hard?! It's not a who-ha, pussy or even a hair pie. I'm so tired of all these stupid knicknames because someone is too fucking shy to say the real word. I once had a boyfriend call it "the garden." I don't know about you, but I certainly don't smell like roses nor does my vagina resemble anything floral. (My husband is now supplying me with very interesting slang terms. My personal favorite being a meatless taco.) The same goes for a penis. How hard is it to say (huh-huh-hu, I said hard) penis? It's not a long duck dong, wanky, monkey, one eyed willie, etc. My son knows the correct terms and even uses them, yet most adults don't. So, I challenge you, right now to use vagina and penis in your daily conversation. In fact, I double dog dare you to use penis & vagina in conversations that have nothing to do with them.

"Kroger's had milk on sale for $1.99 a gallon."

"Really? That makes my vagina really happy."

or...........

"I thought about going to the movies on Friday to see than new Brad Pitt flick."

"Huh, did you know I have a 7 inch penis?"

Granted if you say that, most likely you will be dubbed a pervert and get a restraining order slapped on you. Make sure to email us with the outcome okay? Hey, that's what I am here for. It's because I love and care for you all. That and it's sheer mindless entertainment for me. Bonus if you take pictures. (Please note, I want pictures of you getting in trouble and the looks on people's faces when you randomly insert my favorite two words. I actually DO NOT want pictures of your penis or vagina. Then I would get to slap a restraining order on you. Now that would be fun.)

So, repeat after me. V-A-G-I-N-A and P-E-N-I-S.

Kisses,

Lorena Twatwaffle

Let's Tell A Secret

OK, so everyone has a secret like this. Some of us (me) really don't keep it a secret.

Everyone...and I mean EVERYONE has "the one". You know, the one you would leave your spouse for? That movie star/athlete/tv star/politician (ugh) who if they rang your front doorbell, you would go run away with them?

Mine? No contest

Christopher Meloni.

Oh.
My.
Shit.

Really, I adore him. Not just him, but his character on SVU as well.

I love my husband - but Christopher rings the bell and I am GONE. The only stop we would need to make as we are running away together is to the local Baskin Robbins for some ice cream sundae ingredients - you know - whipped cream, fudge sauce....

Yum.

So who's yours?

And if you tell us "No one...I love my spouse THAT much" - I know you are fucking lying.

smoochies.

p.s. - don't let my sister Lorena tell you any shit. She's got a thing for Weird Al Yankovic

p.p.s. - Lorena is gonna kick my fucking ass for that.

p.p.s.s. - Wanna vent? Send us an email! Sometime soon you will hear about pet peeves I have. Start thinkin' of yours!

How in the fuck

did my husband make it to 40+ years of age?

I don't know how he made it past 1 1/2 years of age.

My father in law...i don't know of a name yet for him except for Doofus of the Fuckin' Centry - let my son, who was then 6 months old, play with a steak knife.

You know...sharp blade?? Oh yes.

Asshole. It's been 2 months. I am still carrying that around.

He also is pushing for us to have my INFANT son aptitude tested. Because we need to find out what he will be good at. My son should probably not shit in his pants anymore first...right?

Asshole. That's only been 2 weeks since the last time he mentioned it. I will carry that around for a while.

I like bacon

So. Hi.

I bet you are all wondering, why Twatwaffle? Quite frankly our first choice, "3 Dirty C*nts" would probably draw the wrong crowd to this party. It would end up being a lot of sweaty fat men in wife beaters, who try to cop a feel as you walk by. I happen to be very particular on who gets to play with the girls. So is my husband. Twatawffle it is. Besides Twatwaffle is so much fun to say. Repeat after me. Twatwaffle. Twatwaffle. Just kind of rolls off your tongue doesn't it?

Oh yeah, I'm Lorena. Lorena Twatwaffle. Welcome to our bitch fest. Some of us needed a safe place to come and unload. Some of us, like me, needed a place to write about things otherwise deemed unacceptable at my other blog place. Feel free to bitch with us too. You can bitch in the comment section, or if you you need more space, email us at 3twatwaffles@gmail.com. We'd love to have Twatwaffle Friends posts.

Let's see...what else....I like long walks on the beach, diet coke, freedom of speech, bacon, drawing, sleeping in, shopping, morning sex and chocolate. Not necessarily in that order.

I dislike people who think their opinions are the only ones that count, crocs, coffee, slow drivers and tofu.

This is going to be so much fucking fun. Why don't you come on in, get comfortable and stay for awhile. Let's get this party started. Can I get you a beer? Or how about some chips and salsa?

Love & syphilis,
Lorena

And so it begins

Hey....my bitches!!

(Ok, really, I don't think we have any followers yet, but I like that word)

My name is Trixie....Trixie Twatwaffle.




I am 1/3 of the Twatwaffle Sisters. My sisters, Lorena and Vivian, they will be on here too. Don't worry.

This is our place to be ourselves. If we feel like saying FUCK, we will. If we feel like telling someone to FUCK off, we will. (And for hell's sake, I have a lot of people on that list).

You see, we need this place. OK, I need this place, I am not sure why they will be here (I shall let them explain).

I will let them introduce themselves, but in the meantime, here's me:

I have an infant son who's pretty fucking cute. My "sister" Lorena has a daughter that I want to hook my son up with in about 25 years. (get your mind out of the gutter, we really aren't sisters, that'd be disgusting and pretty fucking illegal). My son's name is Junior.

I have a husband who pisses me off like no other, but lately, hes been a pretty good husband. His name - is "Hank".

I have parents, siblings and in-laws. You will hear about them. Probably a lot about the inlaws. (remind me - steak knife and my 6 month old, k?)

I have another blog where I can't write about this shit here because, well, people that i WANT to write about read that.

We're bitchy. An awful damn lot. It will be like constant PMS here.

So, please come back. Visit us. Love us. Bitch and complain with us.

xoxo
Trixie