Mommie Dearest

No, I'm not in prison for murder, or in a shallow grave; nor have I discovered serenity thereby leaving me void of complaint. But I do have some excuses.

It ain't like I dint warn the little ingrates. I said very clearly "ANYONE WHO GETS SICK WILL BE SENT IMMEDIATELY INTO FOSTER CARE". Did they listen? Oh, haill NO. So then, there they were, in blatant defiance of a direct order, feverish eyes ablaze, baby cheeks all flushed, sad looking little creatures indeed. But did I put the little monsters out on the street?? Even though I'm BUSY?? well, No. Instead I selflessly mother-loved them until they were all better. I know, I'm way to soft, gotta follow up on my threats otherwise they'll walk all over me.
And what do I get for my gallant efforts? well, SICK of course, is what I got. So that's partially why I have been absent from delivering my daily dose of sunshine.

That in combination with feverish (literal) preparation for my fuck-fuck-fucking board certification exam (another one!) in June where I will go pay lots-o- money so I can get tortured by some twatty frankenpimp who needs to fill a time void while taking a break from squeezing baby rabbits until their eyes bleed. This has forced me into using a computer with an extensive review program and NO INTERNET access, as I have been known to occasionally become distracted.

Thank you Gia and peedee & Whale. Between boards, drunken fucktard lawsuit & all purpose fucktard Archie Bunker, June will be a busy month. Thank you for visiting and wish me luck.

Back to Reality

Well, Reality TV, that is.

And the winner is:.........................

ADAM SLAMBERT!!
I'm throwin' down my prediction. I really don't care that much, I just didn't like the Gokey, he had a sound like he was all constipated or something; he just wasn't doing it for me.

Anyway, Chris Allen (boring name even) brings about as much excitement to the table as hot tea and Melba toast. Adam's more like a spicy shrimp CockTail (sorry, bad taste). And besides, anyone that can make Simon giggle and Paula lucid straight up deserves it.

Most Excellent News From Jersey!

Ok, so where have I been hiding? I thought "The Real Housewives of New Jersey" was a joke on us by late night TV, but low and behold, it's fur reels! I feel like someone just handed me a warm baby puppy to rock gently to sleep, I'm so thrilled.

Yes, I could be bettering myself, reading Proust, pondering his melting Madeleine and its neuroscientific implications, but why better myself when belittling someone else is so much more fun??

I'll probably have to watch on my laptop in my closet so those dirty tramps don't poison my sweet chilluns, but I'm betting that the Jersey girls are going to make Kim, my favorite big boobie mop-head from Atlanta blush. Stand by for lots-o-lepord and glittering Lucite.

British Invasion

The past weekend was spent in admiration of a bunch of pasty limeys from across the pond. Miss H. spent several hours doing a critical analysis of the Harry Potter museum display. We were supposed to call her Hermione as soon as she robed up. She was brimming with Hermione-like tidbits of information, chock full of all the aloof disgust which may be conjured from a seven-year-old Harry Potter snob.

Among these useful facts, including but not limited to (been talkin to my lawyer):

• "Oh my Gosh. The stool with the sorting hat has four legs, and in the book it was defiantly a 3 legged stool." nose up, hair flip, sniff. Blasphemy!
• "I'm POSITIVE that Harry wore green robes to the dance not black, and Hermione wore a blue dress with her hair up, NOT a this pink rag on display!" utter disgust, the horror.
• "Dobby is nekid! He's not wearing his dirty pillow case."
• gave a full tour of the Weasly twins' novelty toys to a bunch of old ladies from the burbs, I almost had to take one of those old girls out when she started yammering about one of the Weaslys kickin' in the last book cause Miss has not read that one yet.

She had a trivia contest with a curator who was wearing my favorite hairdo, the backwards mullet! Yes she stumped the little cream puff, but for what? Is there a scholarship here? I want to retire and live off my kid's labors; maybe they could have "Harry Potter Jeopardy" game?

Part II of the Brit invasion: Mrs. Bunker goes to a concert!! That's right, set yerself down, because Archie let me out for an evening of whorin' around! Actually, I kept my shirt on, didn't get carded (sad), and was tucked into my starched sheets by 11. Everyone should start listening to the band Keane immediately, because they are very good with some dreary dirges which are right up my alley. Good fun, I even had a beer which gave me a full on buzz, one more & I would've been snogging with a roadie, just like the good old days..

The Reverse Mullet

This is one hairstyle that should be avoided at all costs. Trust me. What good can come of it? You will be ridiculed by generations to come. This looks like the haircut I gave myself when I was 6 because I didn't think my mom would notice so long as I left my bangs alone. I've sported some bad hair styles (yes Whale, I hear you snickering) but wisdom and maturity will steer me away from this atrocity.
It all started with that embellished clothes hanger, Victoria Beckham, and went downhill from there. This hairstyle will hold-up as well as the traditional mullet (still worn proudly in my hometown), so if you get drunk and wake up with this sad mess on your head, don't let anybody take your picture as you run to the salon for an emergency weave.
Above is the end stage, all the bad things that could happen have happened; curling, straightening, blatant product overuse. This is hurting my eyes. Make it stop! Back me up here Gia.

Overpriced Report Card

The Boy's fancy private pre-kindergarten kindergarten costs more than I paid for undergrad, much more. Fortunately, he will join the dirty masses next year at public school. It's a nice charter school with lots of Indian kids, but for now I'm handing over lots and lots of shoe money (to donate to the needy, of course) in the form of tuition checks.

I'll sure miss the school, particularly attending the tedious parent gatherings where we check & compare who has the biggest stick up their ass, this immediately following the automobile and vacation home pissing match.

Tomorrow is report card day, when I have to go be shown the magical academic progress my 5 year old child has made under their costly tutelage. This will be a one hour meeting with a 5 page detailed summary of how well he can stack blocks. Considering the age group and the price tag, I think it should consist of having the teacher blow sunshine up my ass about my handsome and talented boy.

This report card day has to got to go better than last year when the teacher pretty much told me that my boy was probably destined for the short bus & prison, causing me to completely wreck my manicure; bitch wouldn't recognize true brilliance if it accidentally pissed in her fishbowl (fake fish, where's the victim??). And I still gave her a box of chocolates and a gift card.

Also, it should be noted that the lice episode was at the snobby prep school, not the public school; additionally I hope that before year's end they manage to teach him that his after school board game with horses and pawns is not called chest.

Put your Big Gay hat on!

Paula's not hugging, she's leaning because she overindulged in her "special herbal tea" again and she's trying not to fall over. Simon's grinning because he's getting a free boobie feel.

Allison, my little redhead trick, is out of the running & I'm sad. All I care about now is that Gokey does not win, because he is friggin annoying. Who's keeping him alive anyway? I mean the gayelle vote is helping Adam as is his glamorous theatrical talent. Chris is a cutie but about as charismatic as uncooked macaroni, the tweenies should be voting for him, so if you own one of them, please do not restrict their texting tonight, this is IMPORTANT.

Marital Advice, For Free!

Since Mother's day and our wedding anniversary are pretty closely grouped together on the calendar, Archie Bunker went ALL OUT for Mother's Day and got me the best vacuum cleaner he could find. Just in case anyone ever wonders, cleaning appliances are never, never acceptable gifts (unless you're hittin' with the cleaning lady and want to sweeten her up a little). I didn't want a new vacuum, I wanted a nice Polish girl to push the vacuum. These girls have apparently all disappeared due to immigration issues, and I feel so much safer, because you know they probably were helping to carry out some grand Fatwa.

But back to the advice. Don't go to an appliance store to buy gifts for the wife. We know you're in there checking out the plasma screen TV's, and any gift that is electronic was a hasty purchase to cover your ass because YOU FORGOT. Go to the jewelry store instead (or the joo-rey store for you southerners, as per the "Real Housewives of Atlanta"). It's hard to screw it up with the bling.

Public Transportation

Dear everyone in the world, please do not eat on the bus. Why would you even want to? I usually feel like having a high pressure hose-down with Purell after rubbing up against the dirty masses, and you want to EAT in said vessel? Nastay. In addition, please refrain from clipping your nails, flossing, and filing your nails. A lipstick touch-up is fine, but let's do the rest elsewhere, please?? I hate to be in the path of someone else's bronzer.

Fine, listen to your ipod, but please, for the love of GOD don't sing along (unless it's Johnny Cash), and don't play it so loudly that I (or other riders) will be forced to whack you with my umbrella because you can't hear me saying "excuse me, wanker".
You, creepy man above, leave little doubt about were you're going to sit. It will always be right next to me!! Why? Do we have something to discuss? do I look like a skeezy pedophile with a landing-strip hair strategy going on? I don't think so, so just move along to make room for sister below, because she always thinks she's going to fit right next to me, because my ass is skinny. Still I'd rather have her squishing me than risk inappropriate touching from the perv, ain't enough Purell in the world to get that kinda stank offa you.

Also, just for fairness: IF you see someone lurking around with an iphone in a bright green case pretending to be texting, don't do anything stupid like start picking your nose, and make sure your underwear ain't showin. You've been warned.

AND Troy, would you please update your little blog thingy? I'm sick of seeing that post about your cat's nuts.

Happy Mother's day all. Remember to be kind to others & perform your grooming and personal hygiene rituals in private, or at least someplace where I don't have to watch.
Love from Mrs. Bunker,

Tulips & Shoes

According to Gia, the goddess of the green earth, it's time to plant! Archie Bunker will surely be a big help, ah just knows it. Or maybe he'll just make a showing late in the day and complain about me scratching the deck by dragging the pots around. It could go either way! Well actually, if you'd put a wager on option #1 (the "big help") then you're probably busy funding those friendly Nigerian dignitaries that contacted you in an email missive that started like so: Dear kind Sir or Ma'am, etc.. So anyway, he'll probably be an asshole.

In other happenings, I wanted to freshen up the old blog, make it fancy with a spiffy black background but I don't really know how, so I just changed the title; so welcome to the brand spankin' new "Mrs. Bunker's Chainsaw Emporium."
Mary Poppins or Hookah? Yes, I've returned to the high heels, thank you Dr. FK for the encouraging words. Clearly exquisite shoes, and sooo comfortable (little tiny lie). They will help maintain my glowing chakra throughout this lawsuit drama.
Not to be worn around Mr. Bunker however, as he suddenly wants another bandaid baby! I meant Baby. did I say bandaid baby?? whoopsie, what am I thinking?? Really, all I mean is this busted oven is SHUT DOWN. Besides, I'm pretty sure you have to be touching for that sort of thing to happen, so, UNLIKELY.

A brush with the law

Imagine my surprise when the po-po came to my office yesterday morning. I thought for sure someone had finally looked in my closet and I was going to get hauled off to the pokey. Kidding! just kidding, my closet's fine!! just a little flashback. Not kidding about Officer Friendly dropping by...serving me with PAPERS. That's right, someone is suing my ass, and unfortunately it's not Archie Bunker suing me for Dee-vorce. I'm here to tell ya that getting served in your waiting room is a bad way to start your day, very bad. It's makes the other patients a little nervous. However, when I saw the name of the "Injured Party", my blood pressure backed down from "stroke risk" to "mere annoyance" level.

This stupid drunken fucktard is like Crocs's, in that he just won't GO AWAY. Apparently, my stupid drunken fucktard patient has found a stupid drunken fucktard lawyer (not that difficult) willing to pursue this textbook case of the nuisance lawsuit, true 'dat.

It's been four years since loser man and his eau du hangover first blessed us with his oatmeal countenance. He looked like he'd awoken from a stupor in a puddle of his own vomit, shaken off the DTs, brushed himself off, noticed that he had hurt himself from falling down somewhere, somehow, and dammit, someone was gonna pay!!

That someone will turn out to be me, even if it's just a matter of time wasted. I sincerely believe we would have been fine if I had been more generous with the pain meds, but then I'd have the DEA to deal with, and frankly I think the drunken fucktard will be an easier battle.
We knew from the beginning that he wanted to sue somebody, he just hadn't settled (bad word choice) on whom it would be; maybe he was waiting to see if he'd have a memory work it's way into his consciousness of him falling in a government owned building or maybe (even better) a fall at the Walmart. I guess the blackout stayed blacked out, so his watery bloodshot eyes turned to me... I can't even bill him for the time & money I will have to waste on him, so I'll stop wasting time on him...Right Now!!
The sun is trying to shine, there are tulips blooming, my shoes today are spectacular, and I'm going to hire a gangsta to toss that douchebag's salad with a weedwhacker.

Time Managment via Racial Profiling

We're all just too too busy right? I mean, I've only seen 2 of the 6 seasons of "The Wire" and the whole of the "Dexter" series awaits. Meanwhile my roots are frightful and I need to plant my herb garden. I know we all suffer these scheduling challenges, so here is a time saving tip on how to find a good school.

You could learn endless facts about various school's curriculum, test scores, student placement, and available activities. You could tour with numerous principals and review all kinds of tiresome education statistics, but take my advice here for this time efficient technique .

To start, check out how many Indian kids there are at the school in question, and I don't mean the "Pocahontas" kind of Indian, I mean the "Patel" kind of Indian. We all know they're smart, right? So if the Indian parents who have done all the extensive reviews mentioned above settle on a school, just follow them! If you have time, you may also consider the following:

Single black mothers from another neighborhood that look like hardasses and have kids that look like Urkel are a good sign, because the mom's probably very devoted & determined and had to bust a lot of heads to get her kid into the school, so that can be taken as a positive sign that this is a good school.

A gay (or even gay looking) principal of either gender is also a good sign, because they will be hypersensitive about any kind of sexual impropriety or shenanigans, which is good! There will be zero tolerance for any touchy-touchy games in school.

A strong showing of Asians used to be a fairly reliable academic indicator, but unless their parents are screaming at them in Mandarin or Japanese, forget it. Really only 1st or second generation counts. The Asian metric has been compromised by some low rent Koreans, and further confounded by all the Chinese girl adoptions; that's totally skewed things; those little girls are making the Jewish girls look low-maintenance.

Lots of Jews is a mixed signal; I mean we know they're smart and that education is very important (Jewish moms can opt for abortions right up til the kid graduates from med school), but if they are at the school you're checking out, you must wonder if there is something wrong with them, as in, how come they're not in Jewish City Day??

So save your valuable time. Just drop by at lunch & if it smells like Chicken Vindaloo and Nan bread, you're good! Sign 'em up and get on to that Netfix que!

The Plain Folk

Visiting the bucolic Mennonite village in Michigan, I wondered if maybe I got it wrong. Maybe I'd be better off with a little white cap, a husband who spends long days doing honest farm work, and a kitchen with a wood burning stove.

But the more pressing matter on my mind is this: if your culture opts to eschew the modern conveniences of microwave ovens, air conditioning, and lipstick, the why, oh why the shoes? Yes she's wearing Crocs, which as far as I'm concerned are a bigger blight on mankind than The Herp; I mean herpes is self limiting, spontaneously resolving after a few days, while Crocs are FOREVER. This is tragic, nearly as bad a seeing a white kid with dreadlocks.

Really. If I got to choose just one thing that modernity has to offer it would not be Crocs; maybe a nice low Prada slingback, maybe a shiny little Ferragamo slipper, BUT NOT Crocs.

Crazy Eyes

Fuck that swine flu, this here's what I'm ascared of. That's one cwazy cwazy face! I don't want Tamiflu, I want Kevlar! Gimmie one a those bullet proof backpacks, keep the kids far away and don't even JOKE about a worldwide shortage of Aquanet Superhold, I meant this for REAL. Look at the eyes! They need to be quarantined to prevent a global pandemic of nightmares filling people with the urge to grunt and rant unintelligibly while surreptitiously moving my office supplies around in order to drive my own staff insane. I actually have the power to generate this expression, simply by inquiring about the whereabouts of her employer. She be H8in' on that dude. I wouldn't want her scrubbing in on any of my cases... she'd probably put a dab of MRSA on the saw just out of spite.
I wonder if in addition to being her "rage face" if it's also her "poopie face"? Some mysteries are left best unsolved, and this just may be one of them.

Next post, I hope that I will have some beautiful flower garden pictures in order to balance out the crazy eyes. Don't stare too long at that picture because it is contagious!! sneezing into your elbow and hand sanitizer cannot protect you from that mess, trust me.