Bowels of hell...

Neither of them is coping up to it. But one of them - At least I think it is one of them, has serious issues with their gut.

I speak of my two dogs. My bitches. My girls.

God made dogs. God made gaseous heinous farts. God made my dogs have these gaseous heinous farts. Silent but deadly is an understatement. Until recently, both used to sneak them in here and there. Now? It constantly smells like my entire home is stocked with ass scented potpourri. Viciously ass scent potpourri.

Their butts smell so bad recently that my husband has taken to being ANGRY with them when they break their evil wind.

Why am I telling you this? Because right now, I am trapped in my home office. I fear stepping foot out of it where I shall be over taken with the wiff of microscopic poo filled air. Mean poo filled air. Poo filled air out to get me. There is no where to hide. I sense my doom.

If they find me dead in the morning from asphyxiation, you will know why. I will fight for my life, but I fear my dogs asses are far to powerful to be stopped.

I love you all..... goood... bye....


gasp.......


If you find me in time, light a match.

I must laugh...

though I feel guilty for doing so. While juicing up on my daily intake of CNN online I happened upon a video feed regarding a poor woman who has been the victim of two very public freak accidents.

I will call this poor soul "Destiny" - (he he, I kill me) any way, 10 years ago "Destiny", a NY resident, was happily attending the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. (or not so happily depending on your opinion of parades) There, our poor little friend was attacked by a wayward street light who itself had been attacked by a giant floating replica of the Cat in the Hat who had broken free from it's bounds thanks to a lot of wind and some really shitty parade personnel. So down comes the balloon on to a light pole. Down comes the light pole towards poor "Destiny's" head. And down "Destiny" went. Knocked unconscious, she lay in a coma for a MONTH.

Sigh - she sued. She settled. She made some money.

Enough money, in fact, to move to the Eastside side of Manhattan in a nifty building very close to the East River. There she bought a condo somewhere around the 50th floor and nestled in for the next decade.

Then Cory Lidle decided to learn how to fly and torched her condo.

Yep.

Feel grateful for your life. Two terrible freak accidents. One very unlucky women. She is an honest to God freak magnet. A magnet of all that is freaky and accidental. My bad hair days and broken heels have nothing on this woman. Not that it's a competition. But it is. I feel like I should send her a card, but I am afraid she may kill herself by way of some brutal freakishly deep paper cut and have me to blame. So I am taking a hands off approach and sending her a mental "bummer" vibe. I hope she gets it.

DEAR LORD!

Never, ever, ever have I partied like I partied in Vegas this past weekend.

Here is my series of Thank You's. I am very certain I will miss many thanks for those out there who made the weekend fab beyond fab. Please note, these are culmulative shout outs on behalf of the pretty ladies that were part of our debaucherous group. Ladies you make me proud. Here is what I DO remember:

To the boys from Texas: Good times good times. That cigar was great. Vodka and soda, not bad. Never met 3 single guys that in one night would be willing to let a married woman be their ring leader. Thanks for hanging. Sorry I passed out back at our suite. I hear my girls showed you great hospitality. ;)

To the boys from the topless pool: who the hell is your friend that thinks he is Spider Man? Tell him to stop scaling the walls in our suite. Very odd. And also - we STILL don't care that one of you was on the Real World. But hey, thanks for the marathon party time anyway.

To our limo driver: Thanks man. You truly are my life coach. I appreciate your deflecting techniques. I shall make it a point to always have a limo driver/bouncer with me next time I am in Lost Wages. Really does get the job done.

To the coat check man at Tryst: thanks for watching out for our boas....

To Steve Wynn for making Tryst: We heart you man. Really.

To the one dude that past out in one of our beds: Stop calling us Mommy. (Not really a thank you but I had to get that out there.)

To the sun: Thanks for reminding us to go to bed. Though - as you know, we didn't. We just remembered that we SHOULD go to bed.

To the makers of Grey Goose: God bless you.

Heading to my 2nd home

Gone to Vegas.

You wish you were me.

Kisses.

DUDE

My dad is like, totally, safe man. Totally.

Whoa.

Funny

This is an email my husband received after his blissful trip to Vegas. It is from one of our dear friends, about one our dear friends. Please note I was too lazy to adjust any mistypes and misspells, I know at least ONE of you (Allison) will bitch if I do not point that out.

Here goes:

Thought I would just send out a quick POP Quiz to see how much you all remember about the weekend.

Its only one question:

1. Which of the following happened to our friend we shall call "Head" this weekend?

a. Fell under the table at Club Tryst
b. Puked out the window of a cab
c. Puked out the window of a second cab
d. Got kicked out of a cab who's ride was less than three blocks
e. Was surrounded by 15 girls taking pictures of him while propped up in front of Ceasars drunk and basically unconscious
f. Needed to be wheeled through Ceasars casino in a wheelchair.
g. Got more sleep during a bachelor party in Vegas than at home.
h. Never saw 1am.
i. Remembers none of this.

Answer: trick question, it is all of the above.

Best thing? Most of the items listed, happened on the same night. Within a 2 hour period. Nice.