Tuesday, September 22, 2009
"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.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
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.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
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......
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
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.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
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.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
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
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....
So who's yours?
And if you tell us "No one...I love my spouse THAT much" - I know you are fucking lying.
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!
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.
Monday, August 24, 2009
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 email@example.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,
Friday, August 21, 2009
(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.