Big Daddy's Birthday

Hey, y'all!

We're going to begin right where I left off. Kinda.

My last post, months ago, was all about donuts of fat, chokin' down choco drink and my smokin' hot Doc feeling me up. (Look, in my fantasy, he was also tweaking the puppies noses so don't doubt, k?)

All of that is a part of the reason I've been gone so long and in a more serious post, I'll give the highlights and low points.

But for now, we're going to hear about Big Daddy's birthday because it is far too precious (hillbilly) to post-pone!

His birthday was a few days ago and being the blessed gift that I am as a wife, I waited until 4:00 p.m. on the day of to ask him what he'd like for his big (old) day.

While waiting for him to give the obvious answer, (sex), I thought of a few things I thought he could use:

1. An eye exam & glasses. Mayhap because the memory of holding onto the 'Dear Baby Jesus, I don't want to die' bar in the van & screaming, "You're driving in the ditch!!" was so fresh in my mind.

2. Just For Men hair dye in black. I'm fine with his salt & pepper look but I do get tired of hearing him waffle back and forth on whether or not to dye it. If it's good enough for George Clooney, it's good enough for you, Al Bundy.

3. A 'Hobbies for Elderly Dummies' book. Why? Because he doesn't fish or golf or toss empty kegs like a normal 42 year old. No, this is how he spends his time:


Yes, that's Big Daddy on the right. And he wants to cuss me for flipping the riding lawn mower?? He can kiss my big butt.

Finally, he decided what he wanted for his birthday. Sex. And to take pictures of me, naked. Color me surprised. And it took him five whole minutes to come up with that?? No. He just wanted to make it look like his pecker wasn't wearing the party hat.

P. Mama: (grunts) "Ookaayyy."

So, I take a bath, shave off two months of leg hair I've been covering up with something flannel, put some makeup on, do my hair, make sure I'm wearing some 'suck you off' lipstick, etc.

(I wanted to look good for my Playboy shoot, k?)

We head to the bedroom where I blow kisses, arch my back, do more than my share of jiggling body parts when he comes up with this gem:

Big Daddy: "Get on your hands & knees, baby."

At this point, I see bad things coming because who really wants to be ass up with a camera inches away from their personal grand canyon, hm?

He's crouched behind me, snapping away and comes up with another sparkler:

Big Daddy: "Spread your cheeks too!"

Now, this is no small thing he's asking of me. I'm a chubby girl with a big ol ass so I have to reach back, palm a considerable bum, mash my face in the pillow for leverage to the point of no longer being able to suck air, to achieve it.

I'm wheezing, fingers gripping a fat behind, hoping he's fucking happy.. when all of a sudden, I farted.

Yes. I. Did.

And I scream..

"Now look what you made me do!!!"

Like it's his fault. Because.. it is.

And I am not even shitting, (pardon the pun).. he doesn't miss a beat.

Big Daddy: (stifling what sounds suspiciously like snorted laughter) "It's okay, baby.. it's okay. Just forget it even happened."

FORGET?! I will remember this moment on my death bed. Because of you, you pervert.

And this right here illustrates how -nothing- will become between a man & his birthday party.

xo

P. Mama

I'm Back!!

Hey y'all,

I've returned and have soooo many stories to share!

But first I have to go catch up on all my favorite bloggers - you know who you are! You've been very missed.

Thanks so much to those of you that left comments, worried and wondering. You make me feel loved.

Check back in soon for the phat insanity that kept me away so long!

Love and chocolate kisses to all of you!

P. Mama

Chokin' It Down

I know what y'all thought! Pervs, the lot of you & I love you all more than cheesecake!

So, I'm currently choking down the first bottle of this chalky white contrast, for a CT Scan this afternoon. The bottle says it has a pleasant taste. The bottle is fucking lying to me. Straight in my grimacing face - lying.

Why the CT Scan? Well, P. Mama has some issues. (Physical, as well as mental.)

I have some lipomas. Fatty tumors. Balls of fat. Little donuts of fat. (I'm thinking of ways to describe these that make me happy.)

Anyway, I have a couple cake donuts with cute pink sprinkles of fat in my abdomen. I had one before but it was like, hmm.. a big bear claw type of pastry. Big enough that it had to be surgically removed, years ago. Apparently, before the Dunkin Donut Exorcism, it spawned donut holes and now they have grown.

Apparently, my prayer: Dear baby Jesus, please let all of my fat evenly disperse throughout my body so no one part feels cheated. All my love & pudge, P. Mama. - Didn't work.

Today, we're looking to see if these new ones need to be removed. The good news in this 'ass tasting drink/donuts in my bellay' fiasco is that the surgeon - he's hot. Mmmhmm.

P. Mama: (lifts her shirt to show off her lumps, and tits) "Soo, I recently flew and the pilot.. he thought I was dead sexy. What do you think?"

Doctor Do-Me: (feels me up.. I mean feels the lumps) "I think you need a Cat Scan."

P. Mama: "Uh-huh, all the better to see me with."

So, I'm gagging this drink down, all to impress him.. and off I go!

P.S. If any of you return the immense love that I have for you - can you please either make or find a very cute award for me to give out every Sunday to my most fave blog posts of the week.. so I can get that show on the road??

*kiss*

Awe-Summ - Six Lungs.

I'm an idiot. I was trying to practice this linking the words and clicked publish post instead of Save As Draft. So, if any of you just clicked on this post in the last little bit, all you saw was this:

This chick is awesome: Sam!! http://myobyall.blogspot.com/

D'uh.

Of course, she is!! And yay me, the linking worked! But anyway - Sam gave me an award! See that cute pink Queen over there on the right?? Whoot!

So, rules are - I have to list seven things that are awe-summ about moi. I did that once on a post, for zelzee. (Love her too, she's great.)

I'm going to repost from that because I honestly have not much clue what is awe-summ about me!

So, here it is:

The seven things that I think make me Awesome:

1) I can streak my daughters hair better than any salon could.

2) I'm an amazing cook.

3) I'm a pretty decent writer.

4) I'm a great dancer & could do the 'tootsie roll' like nobodies business!

5) I'm a music trivia goddess.

6) I once rented a movie to Mike Tyson & didn't get a body part bitten off.

7) This is hard. I just asked my daughter what was awesummm about me and she replied, "Everything." :)

Now, for the next part. Seven women that I think are Queens of Awe-summ!

Sassified! http://thelifeofsass.blogspot.com/

Calling People Names! http://awomaninsearchof.blogspot.com/

Fragrant Liar! http://fragrantliar.blogspot.com/

Two For One! Holy Crappers! http://menapausalmama.blogspot.com/

Cora! http://lovelettersbycora.blogspot.com/

zelzee! http://www.zelzee.com/

What I Should Have Said! http://bethsayswhatishouldhavesaid.blogspot.com/

Seriously, I could do at least twenty more! But I hope to showcase some of my favorite blogs on Sunday nights!

So, make sure to check in for that, y'all. :)

Side story:

My daughter, Darling Bitchy, is 18. She's had sinus infection, ear infection (both ears) and bronchitis, for the last two weeks. The original medications didn't seem to be working so I took her back to the Doctor this week.

They found that she's not getting oxygen to the bottom of her lungs so gave her an inhaler. Last night, her brother, Rebel Boy - decided to just randomly spritz the inhaler around. She threw a fit and screamed at him that she needs that because her bottom set of lungs arn't getting air.

He said - "Bottom set of lungs?"

Darling Bitchy: "Yes, I have two lungs at the top, by my shoulders, two in the middle and two down here." (She very seriously points out where her six lungs are to him.)

He is nearly on the floor, laughing hysterically as he gives her an anatomy lesson.

Later on that night, she comes to me, nearly in tears. Her ears still hurt. I tell her to put the pain drops in. She again, very seriously, says to me:

"If I put them in this ear, tilt my head and shake it hard, maybe they'll go through to the other ear and unplug them both."

*le fuck* Someone switched my baby with Chrissy's from Three's Company.

God love her, she's so adorable, sweet and wonderful that we forgive her for her freakishly weird six lungs.

Fave Blog Posts & Picasso

Do y'all remember the fab idea I had to do a 'fave blog posts of the week'? Where I read all of your blog posts for the week, picked my faves and showcased them right here on mine - lovingly dry humping them like a Price Is Right model!?


There's a problem.


I have no idea how to make text and/or pictures into clickable links. Persay, if I wanted to make the words "Comedy Goddess" into a clickable link.. or.. if I wanted to use a picture of an apple for Martini Mom, to click on and go to her site..


How do I do that?? Please, for the love of cunnilingus, tell me!


So that I can begin shouting out to all of you, the blogger friends that keep me from accidentally running over Big Daddy, shifting to reverse, running over him again, etc, etc, ad infinitum - on the John Deere death machine. (It still works. I had to mow again yesterday. No wheelies this time but I'll tell y'all about the 'PBR' sometime soon. Noo, not Pabst Blue Ribbon, rednecks. Pretty Big Rock!! Oy.)

Also, a short side story:


We were going out for dinner last night & Big Daddy was rushing me, per usual. He cannot seem to grasp that Phat Mamas take a bit O' time to get sexalicious. We know that we have to make the best of our ASSets so that they jiggle just right (apply enough body lotion that we slide into something lycra (granny panties) to squeeze our navel up to our nipples) and it was pissing me off that he was bitching about being late.


*Side note: Granny panties they may be, but mine have lace, polka dots, cute little hearts and devils with pitchforks. Hawwt.


So anywho..


He's rushing me. I'm ready to use my cigarette lighter with a can of Aqua Net hair spray to torch him the fuck out of my 'Cover Girl' face when it happened. Due to lack of desperately needed concentration, I shaved half my eyebrow off.


Here is the Picasso I just drew, to show y'all:

Tonight, I'm going to shave half of Big Daddy's goatee off while he sleeps. Because I clearly recall the vows of marriage saying: "For Better or for Worse."

This is one of those worse moments & the sonofabitch should match.

Fat Girls Can Win Olympic Gold Too!

Have any of you ever remodeled a home? If so, feel free (after reading this stunner of a blog post) to tell me all about it in comments. Because I want (need) to feel not so alone in the following stories of good (fifth ring of hell) times.


Story One: "Fork Over Some Cash"

Big Daddy & I go to the house to be remodeled. Hence forth to be known as: The Shithole.

Upon getting there, we look through it. We lived in this exact same house before the move to North Carolina. But now, we're buying it. Before leaving, we painted everything a lovely, generic, flat white. We Rug Doctored the carpets. We left things nice.

P. Mama: (sniffing the air) "Did the house always smell like.. wet dog?"

Big Daddy: "Yes, we were used to it back then with both dogs here. It'll be fine - just Rug Doctor again and sprinkle some of that good smelling powder on the floors and vacuum it up."

P. Mama: "I think we're going to need new carpet, El'Cheapo."


Story Two: "I'd Like To Shove This Bush Up Your Ass"

A few days later, we were at The Shithole and decided to do yard work. The former owners must have missed their homeland in the Amazonian jungle because they planted every bush, shrub, flower, plant (fucking weed) known to man. Oh, except pot - which could have financed the remodeling if the fuckers would have had some courtesy towards future owners.

After one too many times of having to step into camoflage panties and shit kicker boots to get through the front door, I announced that all of it had to go.

P. Mama: (Sitting on the tailgate of Big Daddy's truck, happily swinging my legs, smoking a Marlboro while supervising him sawing down the rain forest.)

Big Daddy: (staring at me through the droplets of sweat dripping into his eyeballs) "You could come stand here, take the branches from me and put them in that pile so I wouldn't have to keep crawling out from underneath this lilac bush."

P. Mama: (takes a long drag from the Marb, tilts my face to the sun that adores me and exhales, making lovely plumes of grey-blue smoke then slowly sliding off the tailgate, I make my way over to him) "Do you have any gardening gloves?"

Big Daddy: "Yes, just under the tire iron - bring that to me too."

P. Mama: (That sounded like a threat. Cranky Bastard. Guess he doesn't have any gloves.)


Story Three: "John Deere Dead"

It was time to mow the lawn that hadn't seen a chopping in months. So, Big Daddy shows me how to run the riding lawn mower and says, just before I take off in 'Richard Petty speed':

"Don't try to mow the ditch. It's steep. I'll do that when you're done."

I'm having a good time mowing - because why? I can sit my fat ass on a machine that has a built in cup holder. That's why. And then I come to the ditch. I gawk around, trying to locate Big Daddy. I start pondering why I'm not supposed to mow the ditch. Was that a slanderous remark about my chubby?! Is he saying that my weight may tip the mower over?! Dickhead! I shall mow this ditch and show him!

So, up and down I go. Down the slope, swivel around, back up it. I was -almost- finished, he hadn't caught me, I was full of fat bitch pride when all of a sudden..

I was climbing the steep slope and the mower did a wheelie. I was the Evil Keneivel of riding lawn mowers. And allll of my weight suddenly shifted straight to my ass. It was going to flip over and crush me!

My life and the picture of my little, pudgy hands & feet sticking out from the underneath the John Deere death machine, on the front page of the local paper, flashed before my eyes.

Adrenalin shot through me and in a dismount worthy of perfect 10's at the Olympics - I spread my legs wide enough to clear the seat and launched backwards, landing on my flip-flops, neatly pivoting to the right in time to watch the lawn mower flip over twice and land wheel-up.

*le fuck* (Where is Big Daddy?)

Awww, there he is, sprinting towards me on his bum knee, terrified because he almost lost the love of his life in a horrific lawn mowing accident.

Big Daddy: "Didn't I tell you not to mow the ditch?! Shit, look at the lawn mower!"

P. Mama: Lawn mower?! LAWN. MOWER?? What about me?? Didn't you see that amazing jump off of it?? Have you ever seen a fat girl move that fast?? How about NO." (Fucker.)

My Connection Screws My Anus Slowly

Hey, y'all!

So, a few things here:

1.) I'm mad busy trying to remodel the house we're going to live in while maintaining the house we're currently living in. I think I inhaled enough paint fumes in the last week to make me a glow in the dark fat chick.

So, my posts have been less frequent with all this *gasp* work. Which leads me to number..

2.) I also live in the sticks now. The boonies. I have to slow down for (and scream profanities at) the Amish folks driving a horse a buggy. And I have... dial-up. (Curls into a fetal position and sobs.) Some of you may have never heard of dial-up connection to the internet. It's what we used back in the days when Bill Gates was selling MicroShit out of his basement.

Because of this slowwww connection, I have been unable to post comments to blogs. It takes forever to load the comment form and when I finally do get it up (I've had time for dinner, movie, sex (oral - not for him, for me - he's still being punished) and a shower while waiting to tell each of you how much you're lovered by moi. And then, I write a nice, long comment and half the time it doesn't post!

So, here is my fab idea! Get ready for it, honies!

Every Sunday night, I am going to write about my fave blog posts of the previous week! A shout out for all you wonderful bloggers that I have grown to love and adore. :)

So make me laugh or cry, or both - make me think, or want to try out your recipes - make me want to rent the movie you Siskel & Ebert'd on your blog, make me listen to a song you love and talked about, make me shake my fist with you at some fuckwit bohunk that stole your parking spot - any and all of it, and I'll shout out to you right here on my blog, every Sunday night!

Okay, I'm off for now to go pick 'semi-gloss white' boogers out of my nose before my kids stage an intervention over my apparent coke habit.

Hugss!