A Bathtub, Some Wine, and a Few Notes

Hello my pretties.  The Royal Family has been called into action because of some cunt blister parading around as someone's mother.  It has made everyone in the kingdom twisty and stabby. (for good reason)

My Bitch Switch was already turned on because:
A. I have another MRSA infection, and feel like the botton of Queenie's shoe. And not the pretty, sparkly, red ones, but the ugly ass birkenstocks.
B. I have bronchitus
C. Stupid people in general piss me off.
D. There is a goddamn snow storm raging outside my window and the Royal bootlickers have decided they are too good to get thier little chihuahua paws snowy, and will just piss and shit on my back porch instead.   

So, I did what I do best.  I grabbed a large box of wine, filled the tub, and jumped in.  You lucky bastards!  Without further adieu, I bring you:

Proof that a box of wine contains more philosophy than all the books in the fucking world."

Dear Duke,
We have been together a long time.  Sometimes, I know what you are going to bitch about before you open your damn mouth.  All I have to say is, " I will take 'Same Shit / Different Day' category for $200.00, Alex."
Love, Dutch

Dear D#1,
I know you are beautiful and smart,  However, you need to remember that I have (almost) 45 -ohmyfuckinghellhowdidTHAThappen- years of life experience, and I just might know a few things that you don't.  So, have a glass of sit the fuck down with a chaser of shut the hell up.
All My Love, Mommy-Dutch

Dear 17 year old Spawn of Satan,
I know that you are SO OVER your parental unit.  Just remember, I drink coffee so I don't bite your head off every morning and I stay medicated so i wont kill you...don't say i never did nothing for you.
Love, Parental Unit Dutch

Dear D#2,
No! You can not borrow my broom to sweep up your Bullshit, I'm busy riding it tonight!!!
PS.  You'd better learn to hula hoop, your halo is slipping.
Love, The Original Bitch Witch-Dutch

Dear Second Cousin,
Thanks for the wedding invitation.  However, maybe you should consider this...A man may think why should he buy milk when he can get the cow for free.  I say why buy the pig, just for a little piece of sausage..  Food for thought.
Just sayin, Cousin Dutch

Dear Next Door neighbor that took my paper out of my driveway this morning, and then lied about it,
Karma is on her way, and man is she fucking drunk.
Fondly, Neighbor Dutch

Dear royal Boot-licking Chihuahua's,
Newsflash:  The Poopcicles you insist on scarfing down are made of frozen poo.  STOP IT!
Gaging, Dutchess

That concludes the note section of this post.  Onto my weekly pet peeve.

Mom.  When people see that word, for the most part, they think of unconditional love, support, one that knows you like none other, and one that always has your back.

Well, that is what you SHOULD think when someone says the word Mom.  Unfortunately, for some of us, the word Mom is equal to evil, hateful, bitter and worthless. 

If you are in the latter category, I'd like to use your for a speed bump.
Women's bodies were made for child bearing, but just because you pushed a baby out of your crusty vagina, it doesn't make you a Mom. 

A Bathtub, Some Wine, and a Funeral

Ok kids, this has been a busy week for your Dutchess, and with a member of my real life family kicking the bucket, it looks like it just got longer.

I need to prepare for the impending avalanche of carnies and circus performers, that make up my family tree, and I can think of no better way than heading to the bathtub with my box of wine.  Without further adieu, or spilling of wine, I give you...

"Proof that a box of wine contains more philosophy than all the books in the fucking world."

I want to address The bitch with cunt blisters:

First?  BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...  Someone apparently cracked open a bottle of Bitch Be Gone.

Second?  Apparently, you forgot exactly who you were dealing with.  Let me reintroduce myself...Hi I'm Chief-slap-a-bitch from the sock-a-hoe tribe, ANY QUESTIONS?! 

Silly bitch, tricks are for hookers...OUR hookers. That is all I have to say about that,

Yesterday, while cooking a gourmet meal in the microwave, (FUCK YOU!  The box said it was gourmet), I heard the Mission Impossible theme in my head, and decided to hit the stop button on the microwave just as it got to :01.  made me feel like a bomb specialist.

Wouldn't it be cool if breast implants came with squeaky toys inside!!

With the Iowa caucus going on, I can hardly stand watching the news.  Every damn story seems to be about the impending election.  However, I also noticed something else.  It seems 90% of the damn commercials are about Viagra and Cialis. Election, erection, election, erection. I've decided either way, we're still fucking screwed!

NOTE TO SELF:  Napkins used after eating hot wings and then shoved in your damn pocket should NEVER be used as toilet paper no matter how much you've had to drink.

I think it's time to eat better, and maybe even loose a little weight.  I asked my body if it wanted to work out today and it told me, "Listen here fatty bitch, do it and die." 

I decided to grab a bite to eat and I ordered a salad at Mickey D's.  Does anyone else think that going to McDonald's and asking for a salad is a lot like going to a whore house and asking for a hug? I'm just sayin'

Tomorrow I will attend a funeral for my Uncle Al.  Family functions will never be the same.  At the last family funeral, our midget 2nd cousin (Leroy) brought a ukulele and serenaded my dead Great Aunt. That is a true story, jokers. 

At the end of the song medley, Leroy said, something about when one door closes...., and before he could finish, my Uncle Al said, "it's because I slammed that mother fucker shut!" I'm going to miss him.

See??  Insanity doesn't run in my family...it wanders in slowly greeting each person with a smile and a goddamn cookie.

And on that note, and the fact that I've shaved my legs and it looks like a goddamn Yeti was swimming in the tub, it is time to close this session of Drunken Bathtub Reflections.

If you need me, I'll be standing in the front yard like a flamingo wearing pink tights and a tutu waiting for Google Earth to come by and take my picture..

See you next time assholes,

A Drunken Bunch of Random

First, thank you all for stroking my.......... ego a bit. Y'all make me all warm & fuzzy inside... Or maybe it's the 5 rum punch drinks I've had. Whatever, either way, it feels nice.

Dammit, now I have to sit myself on the naughty step because my imagination is out of control. (yes, I watched Supernanny! Fuck you! Friday TV is for shit.)

On with the show.

It's Sunday, and that means it must be time for....


I watch a lot of those crime shows...48 hours, CSI, Law & Order and etc... I could make it look like fucking Tinkerbell killed you. Just sayin'

Sometimes I just want to tell my Sister in law that I hope she gets diarrhea and can't get her pantyhose off.

Some people fall right the fuck off of the ugly tree and land in the stupid bush.

I need someone to help me find my weekend. One minute it was here, and the next it just up and disappeared. Bastard!

While skipping through the castle today, I started to sing "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine"...then I realized, NOPE, it was just the Xanax talking.

Therapy helps, but yelling obscenities is cheaper and fun to watch how people react.

My dream job would be driving the fucking KARMA bus.

Maybe I could get away with running around hitting people in the face with a stick while screaming, "FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS BEER-A-LICIOUS GET A GODDAMN GRIP YOU FUCKSTICK!"

If you say everything happens for a reason, one more time, don't be fucking shocked when I punch you in the goddamn throat and say "It must have happened for a reason, asshole".

The flying monkeys refused to take me somewhere exciting. I shall now feed them to the goddamn gators.

I'm taking the Spawn of Satan back to the hospital. They forgot to install the teenage mute button.

My fortune cookie said my life will be peaceful and happy. Ok, who gave the good drug to the fucking cookie?

Duct tape... makes me smile just thinking about it.

I wonder what would happen it I ran through Burger King screaming, "I'm the other white meat!"

Strap-on is no-parts spelled backwards. Coincidence?

And this whole post? was just more proof that a box of wine contains more philosophy than all the books in the fucking world.

Drunken Vegas Bathtubs and An Award

Well kids, I'm back from Sin City ( I know you missed me) and it's Sunday. That must mean that it's time for...

If you have ever been to Vegas and walked along the strip, you have encountered homeless looking people trying to hand you baseball card looking things. Those people won't take no for an answer, and if you try and walk away, they throw the fucking thing at you.

It's just better to take it, throw it on the ground with the other eleventy thousand already there and move along. The jail in Vegas is amusing, but not from behind the bars. Trust me on this.

All of the cards have naked girls on them with a star over their love box. Why a star? Why not a heart, a square, a smiley face or, (my personal suggestion), a Hello Kitty? Just sayin'.

Oh, and if you are one of those naked girls on the cards? Fucking stop it! I wear 5" heels in Vegas and need to keep my head down and watch where the fuck I'm going. With all of you on the ground looking up at me, I feel like I'm walking down the road of broken fucking dreams. Vegas isn't suppose to be depressing, goddamn it!


I would like to thank Wolf over at The S.N.A.F.U. report for this award.
Wolfie dear, you rock, and obviously, have great taste! I am giving it to The Royal Family and Staff.

I'm jet-lagged and I'm pretty sure my brain has turned to mush, so that's it for now kids.

A Box of Wine, The Flu and A Drunken Dutchess

Welcome to the Halloween Edition of


I love Halloween. It's the one time of year you get to dress outrageously hooker-ish, get tanked, and eat candy until your teeth fall out.

Ok, ok, asshats. It's the one time a year outside of the Royal castle, you can dress outrageously hooker-ish, get tanked and eat candy until your teeth fall out.

However, Halloween 2010 was not one for the record books. Here are a few highlights from the Dutchess' Halloween Debacle 2010.

Bad wine - It started last night at friend's Halloween pre-party. You know, the house drinks you have before going to the real party. She had some cheap ass bottles of wine, but I'm all about cheap wine, so I decided, what the hell. I don't know what the fuck it was, but the damn bottle had a penguin on the label. That should have been my first warning. Penguins are not found in Napa Valley, or the South of France. I don't think the Hostess was amused when I kept giggling and telling her to "pour me some more of that Ripple!"

Five inch heels - Super cute...Super fucking stupid for a drunken Dutchess at a rockin' bar crammed with people and stairs in the most fucked up places. The bonus was a quick hoo-ha shot after tumbling off the fuckers as I was stepping down from the dance floor.

Stress - the Duke is determined to see how long it takes me, after a thousand fucking phone calls when I'm out for "Girls Night", to go fucking sniper and mow everyone down with a goddamn Uzi. I've developed a tic in my face, for fuck's sake.

Anger - Someone did a really shitty thing to my bestie. I will be calling the relatives in the bayou to perform some bad ass gris-gris on the offender, mark my words. I hope all your children have extra appendages, you fuckstick.


The goddamn flu - I woke up this morning and started throwing up. My bowels were jealous of the attention that my esophagus was getting, so they decided to get in on the action. I felt wretched and everything that wasn't nailed down was coming out one end or the other. Now, I know this is far more information than anyone truly needs, but you have to know how dismal my situation is to truly appreciate the fact I'm here writing for you all.

I'm pretty sure that while I was on my knees yakking, I was anally raped by some fucking ass pirate with a goddamn penis that was on fire. For the first time in my life, I'm considering buying Tucks Medicated Pads for my pissed off no-no hole.

I need a vacation...and some ointment.

Some Wine, A Bathtub, and A Dutchess

It's Sunday and that means it must be time for...



You fucking people disappoint me. Last Sunday I put up my spiffy new grab button on the sidebar, a Mr. Linky and invited you all to join me in my bathtub.

NOT ONE, NOT ONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS JOINED ME IN THE TUB. WHAT. THE. FUCK.

After consoling myself with a vast amount of alcohol, (and a brand new Mustang Convertible because you fuckers made me question my cool status), I asked The Duke what his thoughts were.

Without missing a beat, he says, "Babe, it's the Bush. The SOS pad convention you are hosting near your crotch scares the hell out of everyone."

So fine, asshats. Since my mad nip twirling skillz, boxed wine and drunken rambling doesn't impress you, I succumbed to a Brazilian wax yesterday.

Now? My goddamn pussy is so swollen it looks like I'm hiding Mick fucking Jagger inside of my twat, except there was no room for his fucking lips.

I am not a happy Dutchess. No Mr. Linky for YOU this week!

Speaking of unhappy, I have a bone to pick with this ever growing Royal Family.

Someone better start coordinating days off. Since CB left, most of you are fucking slacking. I drove past many empty street corners this weekend. That shit just isn't acceptable.

I don't fucking care if you are mourning the loss of CB . Get back to your corner.

I don't care if you got stuck in the moat. Climb the goddamn wall and get back to your corner.

I don't fucking care if your goddamn shoe broke. Duct tape that mother back together and get back to your corner.

I don't fucking care if you have double vision. Strap on an eye patch and pretend you're a goddamn ass pirate. (BTW we charge double for that.)

I don't care if you have the fucking clap. Get a shot penicillin, squeegee your pussy, and get back to your corner.

I don't care if you think you need fucking rehab since becoming part of the Royal Family. Take another Xanax, shut the fuck up, and get back to your damn corner.

We have on staff:
A Queen
A Princess,
A Dame,
A Countess yet to be named,
Security Momma,
Security Vixen,
A Security Peon,
A Security Zombie,
A Personal Security Person,
A Royal Bartender and A Royal Vet


There is no reason for empty fucking street corners. The Queen and I may be shit faced drunk, stoned, seeing double and hearing voices, but we have been running this business for a long time. Make no mistake, we notice when you are not there. Don't think you can get away with this missing in action shit.

Not everyone is a slacker. Some of you are on your regular corner giving ass and taking names. But, some of you? Not so fucking much.

If you are slacking, here is your warning...

Unless you cleared a day off with the Queen or myself, your ass better be on duty next time I drive by in my new fucking Mustang.

Now that we have that all straightened out, I must finish watching Denver get the shit kicked out of them. Where is Elway when you need him.

A Bathtub, Some Wine and a Goodbye

It's time for...


What a kick ass button, huh? It was made by The Royal Formerly Known As Princess of Class, Trash, and Sass. Yes, I said formerly known as.

The crazy hooker went all rouge on us. She turned in her keys to the Kingdom, quit her other bloggy jobs, and decided to have a real life.

What a selfish bitch. She got us hooked on her fuck yous, hookerfaces, whores, blog stalks, and stilettos, and then? She quit us like a bad fucking habit.

Oh stop all of your wailing and teeth gnashing, assclowns. Just calm the fuck down. The rest of the Royals are still here, and we are now taking applications for a new Princess.

CB, no one will ever fill your stilettos, and we will miss you. The blogosphere we be a little less bitchy, a little less crazy, and a little less funny. Even though you are a five foot nothing, there will always be a huge gaping hole where you once stood. I heart your face, Niece Skankypants.

Remember, you can always come home again. Just click your heels, down few shots of gin and a handful of Xanax, and there we will be.

Great, now my fucking bath is full of tears...wait a minute...saltwater makes things float....check out my boobies! Those girls look downright perky.

The new button is for you all. We all know how much I fucking hate rules, so there are no rules for this. Just play if you want, post the button and link the fuck up. Simple, no?

No Bathtub, No Wine, and No Dutchess

THANK YOU FOR MY NEW BATHTUB BUTTON CB! YOU ARE SKANKTACULAR!!!!

Unfortunately, there will be no Drunken Reflections today. I know, I know. That makes you sad, disappointed, heartbroken, and on the verge of tears.

However, after spending most of the goddamn day in the Emergency Room, it has been determined that I, your Drunken Dutchess, am sicker than a fucking cheerleader on homecoming.

One trip to the pharmacy, a couple heavy duty pain killers, and a fever that refuses to go lower than 103.4, I bypassed the wine and bathtub and headed straight for the warm pajamas, a hot toddy and bed.

I will be back with Drunken Reflections next week, and as soon as I feel less like shit someone scraped off their shoe, and more like me, I will be back to your regularly scheduled daily posts.

Now, to prevent you from having to endure one more run-on sentence, I bid you farewell. Fuck you, I'm under the influence of pain killers and massive antibiotics, asshats. Farewell sounded like a good way to end this shitty drivel.

A Bathtub, A New Blog and A Box of Wine

Alright everyone, listen up because I am only going to explain this shit once. The Royal Family has a NEW BLOG. It is a collaboration, and we are counting on all of you, yes you assclown, to make this work. You ask questions, we answer you back in the comment section. Easy, no?

Anyway, back to the reason you have all gathered here.


I have not been able to get the play along button thing together because I am seriously blog stupid. The Princess of Class, Trash and Sass made me a kick ass button, but I have no fucking idea where I saved it AND I have no idea how to put the code box underneath so you all can take the button and play. That means you are off the goddamn hook one more week.

Farm Aid concert was great, until the fucker 2 seats down puked his stupid drunk guts out. That is a story for another time.

I'm fucking exhausted and coming down with something. I'm achy, have chills, a sore throat, and my nose is snotty. Therefore, you poor fucks get a bunch of random shit I wonder about. Enjoy.

Why does Jello have a smell when you add the powder in the water, but when it "gels" the smell is gone?

Why do doctors leave the room when you change? They're going to see you naked any damn way.

If a lesbian has sex with other women but never with another man is she still considered a virgin?

Why is the Lone Ranger called 'Lone' if he always has his Indian friend Tonto with him?

When Atheists go to court, do they have to swear on the bible?

If a nursing mother had her nipples pierced would the milk come out of all three holes?

If a stripper gets breast implants can she write it off on her taxes as a business expense?

If parents say, "Never take candy from strangers" then why do we celebrate Halloween?

How come lemon dish washing liquid contains real lemons, but lemon juice contains artificial flavorings?

How come a cat's ass go up when you pet them?

At what point in man's evolution did he start wiping his ass?

Why is it that no matter what color bubble bath you use the bubbles are always white?

Can you still say "Put it where the sun don't shine " on a nude beach?

If you put a chameleon in a room full of mirrors, what color would it turn?

Is "vice-versa" to a dyslexic just fucking redundant?

That's it, that is all I have for today. Happy Drunken Sunday assclowns, and DO NOT forget to visit the NEW BLOG.

Security and a Bathtub With Wine

First of all, congrats to the new Royal Security Detail . You are now one of the few, the proud, the keepers of the drunken castle. Good on ya.

Second, one of our Security Team is writing a diary on her Royal Experience. Do not miss this, go HERE NOW for a peek into our world as Donda sees it.

Finally, let's move along to what you've come here for...


"I'm fucking tired. I wonder what this family would do if I just stayed in here...forever. Would they worry? Knock on the door? Call out my name, beg me to come out because they can not imagine life without their beloved family matriarch? HA! I've had way too much wine and must be fucking delusional."

Maybe for the next few days I will only shout "Let them eat cupcakes!" no matter what is said to me. Unless it's the Duke, to whom I am only going to say, "Eat Me!...Mmm cupcakes. I love cupcakes. May as well Spackle a giant cupcake to my goddamn ass because that's where it will eventually end up." Speaking of cake...Why is vanilla ice cream white, but a vanilla beans and vanilla extract are brown?"

What the fuck is wrong with my sister in-law? She is always saying "I'm not book smart, but I'm street smart." All I hear is "I'm not real smart, but I'm imaginary smart."

While driving yesterday there was an asshole in a BMW swerving, honking, riding my ass and the car next to me on the highway. I fucking hate dicksticks like that. But, I loved the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars and I teamed up to prevent the dickstick from cutting in at the front. I was fist pumping the air yelling "Stay strong, brothers!" Then, a block from home I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it... thanks Mario Kart....assholes.

I hate to miss a call by the last ring. I'm all, "Hello? Hello? Dammit!", but when I immediately call back, why the fuck does it ring nine times and then go to voicemail? After I didn't answer did they drop the goddamn phone and run away?

It's been chilly here. I fucking hate being cold, and hate the thought of winter being so damn close so I decided to protest winter, I haven't shaved my legs in a couple weeks. Oh fuck you, and shut up the hell up. I've been married over 10 years, and a blow job or a 4 minute fuck doesn't require smooth legs.

However, I want a little sumpin' sumpin' from the Duke later, so I shaved my legs. Holy fuck y'all. I went through two damn blades and my tub now looks like someone sheared a fucking Yeti in here.

On that note, it's time to wrap this up.

But before I go, I want to tell you that I'm getting pretty fucking lonely in this tub. Next week, I am making this a Drunken Bathtub Orgy. That's right fuckers, I am going to pay someone to make a drunken reflection clicky button, and then I'm putting a Mr. linky thing up. You all had better play along.

You come here and ogle my drunken reflections every motherfucking week. Now it's time to grab some booze, drop your drawers and get in the fucking bathtub. C'mon, show the Dutchess what you got. Next Sunday....be here or I will hunt your motherfucking ass down be square.

A Bathtub, Some Wine and TMI

Welcome to this Sunday's edition of......

(I'm sorry Niece Skankypants. I have no fucking clue where my new bathtub button is. If you have it, please fix it for your favorite drunken Auntie.)

As we have previously established, my boobs are huge. My bras are the size of a goddamn party tent. I bought new bras the other day had to move the TV and entertainment center just to make room to for those bad boys.

When it rains, I can just whip off my bra and blanket everyone as we run for the fucking car. Hell, with a few support beams, I could probably rent my tits out when it rains during the SoS's football games for use as a lento/shelter.

Apparently, my bra also doubles as the Bermuda fucking Triangle. It collects random shit throughout the day, without me noticing. You'd be surprised (or not) as to what I find in my bra when I strip my clothes off.

There are always food crumbs. If I ate something particularly crunchy or crusty, there could be enough fucking food particles to feed a starving Ethiopian child for a day.

There is an occasional stray strand of hair, a few ashes from a cigarette, spare change, a wayward olive from my dirty martini, and hey lookie there, a fucking Cheeto.

I love my boobs when I'm in the water. Look at them girls!! They are hoovering where they are suppose to be instead of skimming my kneecaps. The are round, and buoyant. Fuck, they look good in the water.

Then, I spot my unkempt love box. I've been a little lax on landscaping lately. Now, I am not a shave it naked kind of girl. I fucking prayed and said Hail Mary's for 2 goddamn years, begging for pubic hair when I was 10. There is no fucking way I'm shaving that shit off now. However, the Duke prefers it nearly bare, so we compromise. I leave a nice landing strip, and he is happy.

Right now it looks like some damn brillo pads revolted, had a meeting near my crotch and fucking died there. While walking around naked this morning, the Duke said, "Damn Dutch, I bet we could find Amelia Earhart in there." Good one, assclown.

I often wonder what would happen if I quit drinking.

**The Duke wouldn't have to pull over every five minutes so I can pee, and then watch me come out of the Quickie Mart with useless shit like glow sticks and a twelve-dollar bottle of fucking barbecue sauce.

**I would remember where my keys and pants are Every! Single! Day!

**The Royal Family could spend the extra cash they reserve just for my bail money.

**That fucking weirdo from the liquor store would stop calling me to tell me about the new shipment of Jim Beam arriving, asking if he should hold a case for me.

**There would be no more stupid sobriety checks. FYI the Po-Po has no sense of humor when you say, "Fuck no I'm not drunk. I don't remember drinking a thing.".

**No more being afraid to answer the phone the next morning and hearing a detailed account of exactly how many people saw me run fucking naked through the neighborhood the night before, screaming, "Viva la Royal Family Bitches!"

**Never, ever having to ask, again, "What kind of respectable place pierces a goddamn body part when you're too fucking drunk to blink?"

**No more arguments about the shear fucking genius of Buck Owens.

**When I accidentally call the 12-year-old cashier at Wal-Mart a fucking dumb ass, the Duke would not be able to say, "Don't mind her. She's just hammered."

**I would have nothing in common with the homeless guy behind the fucking dumpster.

**My family would have to deal with new and exciting meals instead of my favorite go to meal, Drunken Barbecue.

**My body would probably freeze up, refusing to process things and I would be in the bathroom sobbing and screaming "Why the fuck won't it just come out? WHY?!"

Oh the horror!

Now, if you will excuse me, I need a fucking drink....make it a double.

A Bathtub, A Box of Wine, and A Pinata Pussy

Ok kids, it's that time of the week.....

The Spawn of Satan is working on getting his drivers license. He had a lesson with his instructor yesterday. The guy said the SoS is a very nervous driver. Maybe I should quit reciting "The Lords Prayer" every time I ride shotgun.

Oh, and it's probably not helpful to keep hanging my damn head out of the window screaming at bystanders that "HE'S GOING TO KILL US ALL!!!" Whatever.

The Master of Destruction spilled his chocolate milk on the dog. Poor dog looked at me with sad eyes and began licking his raisin sac where his berries use to be. I think he is plotting our demise.

My feet smell like play dough. What the hell is that about?

The Duke comes up and says, "You're like a sex pinata, I'm going to beat you with my stick until candy comes out." That hit me like a ton of you've got to be shitting me bricks. No woman would be immune to that kind of sweet talk, huh?

"I have an idea" If you're with me and you ever hear me say that, hit me over the fucking head with the nearest heavy object and subdue my ass by any means necessary. Nothing good ever comes of my ideas.

"Trust me." If you're ever with me and I say that, run for your goddamn life. Scream for good measure.

I showed the MoD how a Slip -n -Slide works today. Maybe I should have just swallowed my fucking pride and listened to the Duke. He was listing all of the dumbass reasons that pudgy, middle-aged people should never try to propel themselves down a slicked tarp in broad daylight.
With a defiant look, I lined up my intended path, lowered my head and ran (ran! with running! Look, Ma, no fucking brains!) forward to the slide. I stepped three paces onto the slide of death and launched myself forward.

The only problem was that I never quite got down low enough to move forward. Instead, I dove into thin air, hovered long enough to squawk and realize that this shit was going to fucking hurt like hell and then I dropped like a goddamn rock onto the mat. The air whooshed out of me and the MoD doubled over in hysterics.

I gingerly felt for broken ribs and tried to roll over. I had grass up my fucking nose. I laid on my back, panting, and the Duke stood over me with a disgusted look on his face. "It's not even worth saying 'I told you so.'

Fucking asshat better put away his stick. There will be no pinata pussy tonight.

No Xanax, Whores On Strike and Drunken Bathtubs

Attention all Kingdom Whores. I'm out of Xanax, and make no mistake, it's not pretty, funny, or cute. So, before I accidentally kill someone, listen the fuck up!

I don't give a goddamn rat's ass what you skanks wear,

I don't give a shit about any goddamn blogcation.

I don't give a fuck about some hair loss (just kidding, I'm not that much of a bitch, but without Xanax, my priorities are a bit skewed)

I don't give a dick about any missing song lyrics , law suits, a strike or any other whiny ass titty baby excuses you may have for skipping out on your job.

THE BOOZE AND PILL SUPPLY HAS DRIED UP. GET THE FUCK BACK TO WORK HO(s)!!

Now, it's time for

My tits are fucking ridiculous and should quite possibly be registered as a deadly weapon. I broke a fucking bra!

I was standing in the bathroom wearing my strapless bra and panties while getting ready to go to a wedding when all of a sudden, I heard a loud "POP!"

I watched in horror as the snap on the front of my ginormous bra ricocheted like a bullet shot out of a high powered fucking riffle off the mirror and then embedded itself into the wall behind me.

If not for my mad Ninja Ducking Skillz, I would have lost my goddamn eye. I heard a huge sigh of relief and then my boobs broke free and ate the fucking dogs.

If I were a cheap stripper I would so change my name to Melanie Mammaries.

Speaking of strippers. Duke and I got married in Vegas. After attending the wedding last night, I have one question. When did weddings stop being about the bride and groom, about celebrating love and an open goddamn bar?

It has become a cluster fuck of details.

Pick your flowers, pick your colors, the date, the food, first dance song, party favors, mementos, and on and on. Just the thought of all that bullshit would have me contemplating death by fucking Drain-o.

Let me plan a wedding. I think the perfect first dance song would be "Another One Bites the Dust".

Party favors, and wedding mementos? Fuck a goddamn box of cutesy Hershey kisses with names and date on the bottom.

I think Xanax in a pretty box for a party favor would be the shit. How about a sweaty guy named Lou set up in the back ready to tattoo our names and wedding date on the body part of your choice? Now THAT is a fucking memento asshats.

After last night I have come to the conclusion that some people are like a fucking slinky....not good for a damn thing, but you still can't help but smile when you shove them down the stairs.

It's almost time for the NASCAR race in Atlanta, so I will leave you with the advice I gave the Bride when we left...

Husbands have two emotions: Hungry and Horny. If you see him without an erection, make him a fucking sandwich.

Dumb Bride, bitch thought I was kidding.

Fevered Thoughts, Kleenex and The F-bomb

Ok asshats, the Dutchess is tired and has a fucking cold. However, it is that time of the week. So, without further adieu, I bring you ...

Duke bought a handgun, for protection. I laughed my ass off because unless he has suddenly become an enemy of a Mid-west Mafia, I'm not sure what we need protecting from.

Maybe some rogue raccoon running all hairy cary on us with an Uzi. Maybe some terrorist Squirrel with a bomb taped to his body screaming "Alla Malla, lowalololawaolallamalla" while running toward the house. HA!

I lived in Texas for over 10 years and it's in the state constitution that everyone must learn proper shooting etiquette. (BTW, HOLLA MR. CLARK!!! That's a shout out to my 1st gun instructor. Sorry about the toe!)

I picture me in my new bathrobe, bleary eyed from lack of sleep, coon skin hat on, (so I can show the other rouge goddamn raccoons I mean business), storm out of the house with guns blazing.

One rouge coon looks at one terrorist squirrel and says, "Dude, they sent Granny Oakley! BWAHAHAHA"

Fucking animals.

I wish I could fly. But, as I've said before, I'm never jumping out of a plane unless it's on fucking fire and going down. Maybe I should bungee jump. On second thought, NOT with these boobs? Oh hell no. Black eyes are not a good look on anyone.

Look fuckers, I know this isn't my best post. My goddamn nose is runny, my eyes are watery, I have a fever and my fucking throat feels like sandpaper. I'm exhausted, and the night-time cold medicine, Xanax, ambien and the cold Corona I washed it all down with, is taking it's toll. Suck it.

We all know that CB got reviewed by some lame ass review blog. I won't get into it (because they are not worth anymore of my goddamn precious time), however, one of their complaints was that the Royal Family swears too much. What-EVAH!

I've been thinking, and stealing a few of these quotes I am taking my Kleenex but leaving you with this...

Times When The F-bomb Was Appropriate
"A fucking Mouse? You gotta be kidding me!" --Donald Duck

"Stupid fucking Cow!" --Mrs. O'Leary

"Where did I put the fucking handcuff keys?" --Harry Houdini

"Ok, who gave the kid the fucking stone?"--Goliath

"Where the fuck am I" --Amelia Erhart

"More wives = more pleasure...what the fuck was I thinking?"--Brigham Young

"Fucking carpet-bagging Yankees!"--General Robert E. Lee

"Prince fucking Charming my ass!" --Princess Diana

"Someone kill that fucking goat!"--Any Cubs Fan

"Un-fucking-sinkable? uh...NO!"--Captain Edward J. Smith

"Aw, c'mon, no one will fucking find out?"--Bill Clinton

"Where did all these fucking Indians come from?" -- General Custer

"Oh COME ON! Any fucking idiot could understand that." -- Einstein

"It does SO fucking look like her!" -- Picasso

"How the fuck did you work that out?" -- Pythagoras

"You want WHAT on the fucking ceiling?" -- Michelangelo

"I don't suppose it's gonna fucking rain." -- Joan of Arc

"Scattered fucking showers...my ass!" -- Noah

"I need this parade like I need a fucking hole in my head!" --JFK

"What the fuck was that?!" --Mayor of Hiroshima

A Bathtub, A Box Of Wine and an Old Lady

Hello fucksticks. Before we get started, I need to clear something up. I am alive and drunk and hopped up on pills well.

My lovely sister, The Queen, put out an APB on me. She even put my face on fucking milk cartons!

Crazy Drunken Ho forgot that Friday, I was in jail. However, I was able to bribe Big Bertha so I could participate in CB's Blog Stalk Friday.

AND Saturday is The Dutchess' Day off. Fuck! Even Big Ernie needed a day of rest.

In her crazy drunken defense, she gets nervous when the Duke and I go missing because in our younger years, that usually meant that more crotch parasites would be joining the family nine months later.

However, after the Spawn of Satan made his appearance almost 16 years ago, I had all of those procreating parts removed, stomped on and then burned to a fucking crisp.

Now, grab your favorite boxed wine, pull up a seat and sit the hell down. It's time for...

Duke decided to relax and go fishing this afternoon. He promised an endless supply of Corona if I went with. You asshats know I couldn't say no. Now I wish I had. Drinking ice cold Coronas at the speed of light only means one thing. Holy mother of christ I had to pee!!!!!!

Because we were in bumfucked nowhere, the was no restroom. I could only hold it for so long before I thought my goddamn bladder might explode. I finally accepted defeat and went to pee in the goddamn woods. Each time I did, I got attacked by our new state bird. The fucking mosquito.... On my ass. It was the only goddamn part of my body that wasn't soaked in Deep Woods Off.

I guess if I were a mosquito, my ass would seem like a fucking buffet. I can hear the mosquito now, (in a ridiculous Mexican accent, because, obviously).

This Julio Mosquito, Gringo Ass Hunter. "Holy frijoles! Look at the size of it amigos! If I can take this mamacita down, her borrico will feed my whole family for a year! I had better creep up on her, though. She's not in her natural habitat vato, and could be muy loco!"

Speaking of Cheech and Chong, WHAT??? Mexican accent-ed mosquitoes remind me of Cheech and Chong, so eat me fuckers!

Anyway, being a lizard might be fun. Not that pretentious gecko fuck on the commercials, but something cool like a chameleon. How goddamn funny would it be to blend into the refrigerator and scare the fuck out of the SoS. Or I could wait in the shower for The Duke and just as he is washing his balls be all "Heeeeer's Johnny!!" HA!

I was trimming the fucking Velcro factory that surrounds my lady bits, when I spotted them. What the motherfucking hell??? THERE ARE GODDAMN GREY HAIRS... on my vajayjay, my chachi, my whisker biscuit, poontang, cooter, twat, coochie, snatch, alter of love, fun hatch, pink taco, vaginator, bearded (in my case Amish) clam, ....

OK , so I got carried away, whatever. Holy fuck y'all, my beaver is turning grey. This simply will not do.

Maybe I should wax it into a landing strip, or just go all out and go for the smooth look. On second thought, FUCKING HELL TO THE NO! Been there done that, ended up with my ass cheeks glued shut, my pussy stuck to the tub and a fucking scar on my puffy lady lips. Fuck you, Shut-UP!

Maybe I'll just dye it. I could dye it a really cool color like green...no, green might make it look moldy and nobody likes a moldy snatch.

Maybe blue. Then I could pretend it was the Blue Lagoon and tell The Duke to dive in, the water is just fine while humming the tune "Endless Love".

Maybe orange...no that would remind me of a bad Mexican dye job. The Mexican Hat Dance song would play in my head causing me to shout "OLE!" Every time I took a shit.

I always wanted a pink pony. Now I can have a hot pink pussy. I could shave the pubs into a big P and be the Pink Pussy Avenger. Wonder what my gynecologist would think.

Maybe purple. Would kinda give new meaning to the Purple People Eater song. SWEET! I could totally make up new words. "It was a one hole, one clit, shiny purple pecker eater."

Maybe it's time to go. My ass itches, fucking Julio!

Back By Popular Demand

It's that time again, you lucky bastards. I've decided that it is Drunken Bathtub Reflections Night. Now, if you want to play along, help yourself.

(Thank you Queenie for the awesome button type thing.)

I wonder if crop circles come in any other shape. What if I were abducted by an alien in a crop circle? What would the alien do when he saw my ginormous tits? He would probably think all earthling girls had huge fucking boobs. Then he'd run around all excited screaming "Phone Home!!! Phone Home!"

Cock juggling thunder cunt, with a fist full of fucked up. Bwahahahahaha. I have GOT to figure out how to fit that into everyday conversation.

I love the bathtub. I love chocolate. What if I filled the bathtub up with chocolate...with peanut M&M's. Then I could drown myself in chocolate. With my luck, I'd jam an M&M up my ass, and have to go to the fucking emergency room. "Um, excuse me, I've got a piece of candy lodged in my ass. Can you help me?" How the hell would I explain that to my goddamn insurance company?

Gangsta Rap...Really? I bet those gangsta rappers aren't shit. Hell, my 77-year-old great Uncle swears talks in rhymes and wears pants that are three fucking sizes too big, too. Asshats

That stupid ass Viagra commercial makes no sense. You know, the one where they are in two separate bathtubs and holding hands? Umm...don't you have to be in the same fucking bathtub to have sex?

The Duke's friend bought his fiance a $12,000 engagement ring. I don't know why he acted all goddamn offended when I ask if her vagina dispensed NFL season tickets and ice-cold six packs.
Dude needs a sense of humor, He should go buy one. Oh, wait! He can't! He just spent $12,000 on a motherfucking ring!

Cheap wine has become my bathtub drink of choice. Holy fuck, I have become my Mother.

We were at the county fair last week. They don't have ATM's so my mom borrowed some money from me. I'm going to start calling her every hour shouting, "Where be my money, beeyotch?! Don't make a nigga come bust a cap in yo' ass!"

I think I will then call her and tell her I've decided to leave the Duke and practice the old lickety split. That ought to drive her right over the fucking edge. HA!

Drunken Reflections From A Bathtub

I was soaking in the tub with a huge glass of wine after cooking a huge meal for my kids and my guests (my Mom & her Hubby who just got back from Mexico). I stopped at some point to reflect about the fact that my train of thought is seriously fucking twisted. Here. I’ll show you. This is my thought process, unedited, while bathing tonight:

“Fuck, I’m tired. I wonder what my kids would do if I just stopped feeding them. Would they live on Kool-Aid packets? stale cheetos? Dry macaroni? I bet if they were Ethiopian they could live on damned near anything. They’re so spoiled. I hope they didn’t burn the goddamn cookies.”

“christ on a cracker my tits are huge. People aren’t fucking kidding. I wonder where I get that from? No female in my family has boobs this fucking size. (I grab a ship that my grandson uses for a tub toy) S.S. Minnow, S.S. Minnow, this is the S.S. Boob. Come in, over. We have been torpedoed and are sinking. Requesting assistance. (Moving the boat closer to my tits) Ha! Dumb Fucker! (Shoving the ship under a boob) That’s what you get! Manned by a man, I bet! You have been shipwrecked and there is no return!!”……”Wow. I’m so fucking strange.”

“I bet I could feed an entire goddamn village on these babies. Sally Struthers didn’t just disappear from the radar and not get any more shitty commercials. I bet those fucking kids attacked her nipples and sucked her dry. She’s probably wandering in some village somewhere, all 82 pounds of her. Damn. That’s what I need. A bunch of starving children to suck all the calories out of me. Fuck you, Dr. Adkins.”

“Ick. I need to shave my pussy. I look like I’m harvesting Velcro for fuck sake. I don’t know why it matters. No one wants to see this. My grandmother had twelve children. No wonder she was a fucking hunchback. How do you handle being pregnant for nine goddamn years? I’d kill a motherfucker and build a shrine to that Bobbit chick.”

“I should get out of the tub. I have to pee. I should just pee in here. No, that’s disgusting. Then I’d be stewing in my own pee. That’s just fucking wrong. I’d be like an oyster. Of course, if the Duke is willing to throw some cocktail sauce on me and eat me with wild abandon, I’d be okay with that.”

Now you asshats know. I know that you wish you didn’t, but tough shit, it's my castle. I should make this a weekly thing. Drunken Bathtub moments. Fuck Yeah!

MAYBE I should just stop drinking and allowing myself access to the computer.