Vegas, A Shower, and Elvis

They say that 90% of all fatal accidents occur in the home. Usually because someone did something stupid.

They didn’t say anything about flesh wounds in a 5 star goddamn hotel in Vegas.

I don’t know what’s worse. Doing something stupid that causes injury to yourself or having to tell your spouse that you’re an idiot.

The first night in Vegas, I couldn’t sleep. I don’t think I was able to close my eyes for more than a damn minute. By the next morning I was beyong fucking tired.

However, when in Vegas, you just suck up the free cocktails, and keep moving. There are things to buy and shoes to see people! After a marathon shopping expedition, I decided to head back to the room, shower, and catch a cat nap before dinner and our Carrot Top plans.

You know how the sounds of the ocean, of the waves crashing against the shore can help you relax? You know how just the sound of raindrops can make you feel totally at ease and at peace with the world?

There’s something about water that’s just calming.

Apparently, it’s not a good idea to get that calming feeling when you’re in the shower.

That’s right people. I fell asleep while I was taking a goddamn shower.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if there had been perpetually hot running water.

But there wasn't.

When the hot water ran out….

I woke up.

In what only could be described as a “WAAAHAAAAT THHHHHEEEE FUUUUUUCK!!!” moment.

In that moment, your body is not connected to your brain. Because if it was it wouldn’t have jerked my fucking head back striking the tile causing me to momentarily go back to sleep.

Oh I woke up again. But not until I had dropped to my knees. My brain at this point was saying to my body, “HEY DUMB BITCH GET OUT OF THE SHOWER!!!!”

Using my mad NINJA reflexes, I jumped out of the shower. Well... I started to jump and then my brain remembered that I don’t do that shit.

So now I’m wet, cold, naked and wedged between the toilet and the sink which is the spot I fell into coming out of my reverse 2 ½ with 2 ½ twists in the pike position while holding my ankles… or something like that.

I believe it had a 4.9 degree of difficulty.

“I’m okay!”

That’s what came out of my mouth a second before I realized I wasn’t okay. I don’t know why I said it. There was no one there to hear it accept me because the Duke was downstairs ganbling in the casino. Maybe I was trying to reassure myself that I had a shred of dignity left.

I felt the back of my head to make sure I wasn’t bleeding, saying out loud to myself, “I may have a concussion. Maybe I should go to the ER.”

Then the remainder of my stupid kicked in and I called the Duke on his cell phone. I needed the loving, caring, sympathetic ear of my soul mate.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“It’s not funny, assclown, I could have been killed.”

“That would have made a great episode of CSI, and since we are in Vegas, maybe I would get to meet that sexy Jorja Fox.” (hahaha…)

“Thanks babe, I fucking hate you.”

“Okay I’m done laughing. (hahahaha…) Are you bleeding?”

“No.”

“What hurts? (hahaha…)

“Other than my pride? Everyfuckingthing.”

“Do you think you should go to the (hahahaha…) doctor?”

“You’re still laughing.”

“I’m just picturing you explaining this to the ER Doctor. HAHAHA!!! I’m sorry babe. HAHAHAHAHA!!!!! I can’t help myself.”

"Would it help if I told you I was limping?"

"Yes.... (hahaha...)"

"In sickness and in health motherfucker, in sickness and in health."

"In sickness and in health maybe. But I don't remember anything about being stupid in our wedding vows."

"Ouch... Maybe we should renew them...with an Elvis impersonator in blue Suede Shoes"

I need a drink.

ALSO...there has been an apparent "Super Fuckstick" sighting over at the Queen's castle. I will have more on this tomorrow, but go check out the Queen's place. We have some troll ass to kick people.

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.

P.I.N.T Buh- Bye

EDITED BY DUTCH: CALM DOWN FOLKS, I'M NOT LEAVING BLOGLAND.

Labor Day, In-Laws and A Farm

Day One:

This weekend, we went brother in-law's new farm in Southern Indiana for a family get together. My brother-in-law has a shit load of kids, so the farm is really a goddamn redneck "petting zoo". Let me tell you what they had to offer my family in lieu of smelly ass cows:

Four-wheelers
Climbing wall
Camping
Bonfires, complete with exploding rocks (I'll explain later, asshats)
2 labs and one very neurotic fucking chihuahua.
An unknown number of cats
One enormous, disgusting pot-bellied fucking pig named Marie (Donny died a few years ago)
Chickens that look like Don King. I don't know what kind of goddamn chickens they are but they have afros.
Archery (my son was very into this. At first, we all fucking scattered..the dogs, me, Duke, everyone. Turns out, he's actually pretty good)
Horses
Donkeys
Enormous piles of shit everywhere that city boy Duke managed to step in... every five goddamn minutes.

On the ride down, Spawn of Satan had a few questions for me. He and Duke think I am all knowing about farm shit because I grew up on a horse farm in Texas from junior high age until I was 23.

"Mom, do they have cows?" While I'm sitting there trying to remember what brother in-law told me, because I apparently think this is a perfectly normal fucking question.

Duke giggles and says, "Babe, he's been watching that Jackass show he wants to go cow tipping."

SoS gets the stink eye from me and quiets down.

10 minutes later:

"Mom, do they have goats?"

"You can't tip a goddamn goat, SoS. jesus christ on a fucking cracker, boy."

"No, but I saw that they're fun to wrestle. Have you ever seen anyone wrestle a goat?"

"Goat wrestling? Fucking Goat wrestling?? Holy shit, you're serious. My son wants to be a goddamn goat wrestler." He will never watch that Jackass movie again.


When we pulled up into the driveway, my sister in-law met us outside. After we hugged, she told me she had to one of the nieces, to the emergency room.

"What happened?"

"Oh, she jammed a stick through her foot while four-wheeling barefoot, which is one of our many no-no rules. We're gonna go get stitched up and when I get back, I'll cook out."

"Holy fuck. Okay, well while you're doing that, I'll go have my stomach stapled and then I'll come back and knit a fucking boat tarp."

She carried my niece to the car and turned to say something to me. I was too busy stepping in a hole and twisting my fucking ankle off of my goddamn foot to hear her.

"Well, get in the car, dutchess, maybe we can get a group deal" my SIL says. She's a real fucking hoot.

I was only able to carry my gallon of vodka and box of wine from the car, which I immediately started drinking to ease the goddamn pain. I don't remember much after that.

Day Two:

Duke slept on the floor next to my bed to make sure I didn't try to navigate the farmhouse stairs in the middle of the night to go wrestle a goddamn goat.

When I woke up, I asked him to cuddle with me. He obliged, but it didn't feel enough like a burrito for my liking.

"Hold me closer, tiny dancer," I mumbled. I was still fucking drunk.

"What?"

"You know. The Elton John song. 'Hold me closer, tiny dancer'."

He thinks about this for a moment and then says something that will make me laugh every time I think about it for the rest of my fucking life.

"Honey, this is really embarrassing, but all these years the closest thing I could make out of that line was, 'Hold me closer, Tony Danza'."

Now, I know now that this is a common enough mistake, common enough that it was made into a goddamn t-shirt, but my poor Duke honestly didn't know that. The look of embarrassment on his face was proof enough and I laughed like a mad woman.

While I'm laughing at his mistake, he says, "It's not that goddamn far-fetched. He's gay, isn't he?", which causes me to seize, fall off the bed and break my body.

When I finally calmed down, he said, "Don't tell anyone about that."

"Ok, sweety, I won't."

Later that night, My BIL is building a bonfire and I'm getting drunk with my SIL and her best friend. The three of us climb the hill, drinks sloshing everywhere because:

A: We're drunk
B: We can't see shit. We're in a valley and it's muhfuckin' dark out there.

When we get to the top, I learned a very important fact about bonfires: rocks explode if they get hot enough. The take off like goddamn bullets at a certain temperature.

You could tell who was from the city because we all ended up face down in the goddamn dirt, cowering like it was perfectly possible for MacDaddy Hayseed and his gang to pull a drive-by on the goddamn farm.

A good time was had by all. SoS had to be forcibly removed from the goddamn four-wheeler and shoved into the car. The Duke got to babysit me and make sure I didn't maim myself while stumbling drunkenly through the weekend, which, lets face it, is always fun.

Finally, a musical tribute to the weekend
Ode To A Labor Day Weekend
(sung to the tune of The 12 days of Christmas)
At the Labor Day Party I look up and I see...
12 sheriff deputies,
11 drunken neighbors,
10 burned up steaks,
9 children screaming,
8 hornets buzzing,
7 grills on fire,
6 naked swimmers,
5 Foot bonfire flames!!!!!!
4 in-laws bitching,
3 barking dogs,
2 stopped up toilets,
and my husband smirking at me.

Votes, Vacations, and Vegas

Well, hello my lovely asshats.

I was going to take off one more day to give my alcohol soaked and sun fried brain a chance to regroup and formulate a post.

However, it seems as if the entire Royal goddamn Family has flown the drunken castle.

One of us went to Vegas.
One of us is MIA in California and may or may not be licking things off of Gucci Momma ,
One of us is in the middle of blowing fighting the Zoning Commission so we can complete the move to the new Stinky House Bunny Ranch.

That left my poor little niece, Princess Skankypants, to handle the entire whorehouse, alone. Normally, she would have rocked that shit. But, halfway through the third Peep Show, she got all verklempt in thinking about her Dad and started singing a beautiful, albeit sad, song.

Next thing you know, people are crying in their fucking beers and blowing their goddamn noses in the cocktail napkins.

Queenie got wind of the whole debacle and, without thinking, put up a quick, post about the beach , (shudders at the memory). That fucking thing resulted in some of us poking our already bleeding eyes out with a goddamn cocktail fork and even caused a little throwing up in our mouths.

That? Does not make people want to party and spend their mad money at the Royal Whorehouse.

And that? Means revenue is down.

And that? Means our supply of condoms, xanax, funny cigarettes and Queenie's required gin provisions, are getting disturbingly low.

And that shit? Just will not do motherfuckers.

So I, being full of the awesome, am here to save the goddamn day again. Pull up a bar stool, drinks and doobage are on me. I am going to impart a little wisdom on to you assclowns while the rest of the Royal Family gets the new location for the family business up and running.

Without giving too much detail, (by order of my attorney), here are some things I learned you should NOT do while in Vegas.

1. Don't assume that just because you are in a fancy schmancy two story suite with a full bar and spiral staircase, that the floor to ceiling windows must be tinted. Apparently, some people have no sense of humor when it comes to a fat ass, drunken Dutchess singing loudly and window dancing to "Boogie Wonderland" (shut-UP!) while naked.

2. When the Po-Po show up, to discuss said naked window dancing, it's probably not a good idea to say..
***You must be the Village People strippers I sent for! Where is the Indian Chief and Construction worker!?
***Yo! That uniform makes your ass look really big!
***Oh! You're real cops? Which is Barney and which one is Andy?
***Aren't there real criminals you should be fucking catching?
***If you had some of the stuff I just had, maybe you wouldn't be so fucking uptight!
***It's tobacco.....honest!
***Hey! I bet I can grab that gun faster that you can write that citation asshat!
***A hundred dollar fine?!! Well, maybe a couple Abe Lincoln's can change your mind!
***Umm...you don't happen to have any beer in this car do you?
***Can you say "Book 'em Danno?" just like Steve McGarrett? That's sooo HOT!

3. Don't try to smuggle tiny bottles of vodka into the Indoor Skydiving Chamber. That fucking shit hurts when it explodes out of your flight suit, causing vodka and bottle pieces to be strewn about at 300 mph. (Yes indoor skydiving. The Dutchess is only jumping from a real airplane if that bitch is on fire and going down).

One more thing, a skanktacular friend of the Royal Family is in a contest. I think her entry (number 2) is bitchin, and I'm sure you will too. So, by order/bribery of the Royal Family, go HERE , and vote for number 2.

Move along dicklicks! Nothing more here to see today. Just make sure you GO VOTE!

Still Not Here

Well fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck fuck. I lost my scheduled posts, but you fuckers are lucky because I brought my laptop with me to Vegas.

I know, I fucking know. I should be movin', groovin', gambling and shopping instead of banging out a post on this fucking computer. However, I am sad to report that I have become a shut in.

Now, I live in the frozen fucking tundra that is Wisconsin. We have 2 seasons, freeze you mother fucking ass off, and mosquito season. I LOVE summer and I NEVER complain about heat.

But y'all? My cherry has been popped and I'm saying it.

It's too motherfucking hot here.

Today it was 111 degrees...Fahrenheit. It is 2AM and it's still 98 motherfucking degrees outside. Dry heat my royal fat ass. I swear I thought I was going to spontaneously burst into fucking flames when I walked outside of the hotel today.

It's a sad sad day when the Dutchess can't lounge in the pool with a drink in her hand because the pool is hot enough to boil a goddamn lobster.

However, I did sit in a bar that overlooks the pool area today. I spent hours pointing and laughing at the dumb fuckers that thought they could walk barefoot across the concrete. Let me just say that Lord of the Dance, Michael fucking Flatley ain't got shit on those dicklicks.

Some asshat at the bar said he was contemplating killing himself because he was sure it was cooler in hell than it is here.

I am thinking of ordering a rare steak and taking it to the sidewalk out front to video tape it frying on the sidewalk for you fuckers. You will probably hear a goddamn "THUD". That will be me passing the fuck out from the heat. Then you will probably hear sizzling, followed by people running out of their motherfucking houses with bread and mayo because they smell bacon frying.

Seriously, I hope the fucking paramedics carry a giant spatula so they can remove me from the goddamn sidewalk. I also hope they get there before I'm fucking crispy.



PS. The Royal Family got an award from Amy J . (btw, Thank You) The award has rules that go with it, and quite frankly? My brain is too fucking fried from the heat to participate right now. I will get to it as soon as I cool down. which may be in fucking January.

Is it wrong to plaster my naked body to the communal ice machine?

I'm Not Really Here

That's right bitches, I'm on vacation. As you read this I have my ass wedged into a deck chair, am sitting poolside, with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other.

Shut-UP fuckers! The difference in everyday and today is that my ass is wedged into a chair in Las Vegas, assholes!

However, I knew my loyal followers, All! Nine! Of! You! Asshats! couldn't live without the Dutchess' wit, snark, use of the word motherfucker and drunken ramblings for 6 days.

So I, being full of the fucking AWESOME, decided to leave you a little somethin-somethin and schedule a few posts to run while I'm gone. Enjoy, and I'll see you soon. Sooner if I decided to take my laptop with me, cuz I rock like that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If I have to travel somewhere, I like to fly.
**It gets me there faster (more time at the destination = more drinking time, duh)
**I can drink alcohol and watch a movie while getting to my destination.
**I'm not stuck in a fucking car with people asking who flarted and yelling "She/He's touching me!"

That said, the airlines could make it more entertaining. Especially the in-flight safety speech and other announcements. Some of these you've heard before but if I were the fucking flight attendant you would hear things like...

"There may be 50 ways to leave your lover bitch, but there are only 4 ways out of this airplane so pay attention shidiots..."

"Welcome aboard Screw You Flight XXX to YYY. To operate your seatbelt, insert the metal tab into the buckle, and pull tight. It works just like every other damn seatbelt, and if you don't know how to operate one, you probably shouldn't be out in public unsupervised assbag."

"Please take care when opening the overhead compartments because, you may be killed by falling luggage after a goddamn landing like that."

"In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will descend from the ceiling. Stop fucking screaming, grab the damn mask, and pull it over your motherfucking face. If you have a small child traveling with you, secure your mask
before assisting with theirs. If you are traveling with more than one
crotch parasite, pick your favorite.""

"As you exit the plane, make sure to gather all of your damn shit. If you leave something, make sure it is something we'd like to have. Any children or spouses left behind will be sold on the Black Market."

"Last one off the plane must clean it."

"We are pleased to have some of the best flight attendants in the goddamn industry... Unfortunately, for you douche bags, none of them are on this flight...!"

"We ask you to please remain seated as Captain Kangafuckingroo bounces us to the terminal."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain in your seats until Capt. Crash and the Crew have brought the aircraft to a screeching halt against the goddamn gate. And, once the tire smoke has cleared and the warning bells are silenced, we'll open the door and you can pick your way through the wreckage to the fucking terminal."

"We'd like to thank you folks for flying with us today. And, the next time you get the insane urge to go zipping through the fucking skies in a pressurized metal tube, we hope you'll think of us here at Assbag Airways."

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've reached cruising altitude and will be turning down the cabin lights. This is for your comfort and to enhance the appearance of your flight attendants."

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you wish to smoke, the smoking section on this airplane is on the wing and if you can light 'em, you can smoke 'em."

"If your carry-on baggage won't fit in the overhead compartments, please ram, cram or jam in under the goddamn seat in front of you."

"Sorry, assclowns, but our landing has been delayed by a mechanical failure. The automatic machine that beats up and loses your luggage is not functioning properly and we'll have to wait for repairs."

"Please remain in your damn seat with your seat belts fastened until the aircraft comes to a complete stop and the Captain turns off the seat belt sign. To my knowledge, no passenger has ever beaten the aircraft to the motherfucking gate anyway, so you may as well sit your ass down."



Ok, some of these I may have hijacked from others. Eat me fuckers, I'm on vacation.