Coco and her Vagina

You know how OCD I am about Coco's cavernous taco. Oy, how can you not feel badly for her split knish? Vadge handlers, can you imagine the ahj? This weekend, they were out in grand style. Coco's taco really made the rounds. They were seen here and here and here and here. The only time her vagina gets a reprieve is when she's in a dress.

And How was Your Day, Katie?

On Friday, I was so fuckin’ angry I wished I had a penis. No, I don’t have penis envy. Friday, though. Friday, I wanted a penis, so I could say “SUCK MY MOTHAH’ FUCKIN’ DICK”, to everyone. I wanted to march myself out into the world in groin clutching, crotch enhancing man jeans, grabbing my dick at the speed of light, screaming at the top of my lungs. That’s how I angry I was.

If I could’ve thrown every piece of glass and ceramic I own against the wall so hard that I would’ve felt the reverberating debris inside my womb, I would’ve. I wanted to watch it all crumble into a gazillion little pieces onto the floor. I don’t think I could’ve screamed as loudly as I wanted to, but I sure as shit wanted to try.

The health care system in this country isn’t fucked up, it’s a diseaseapalooza.

Doctor’s secretary, we’ll call her Spawn of Satan says, “Take this new medication. If you have side-effects and feel sick, call.” Katie asks, “What side-effects should I look for? Can you describe what feeling sick means?” Spawn of says, “I don’t know. You’d have to ask the doctor.”

Hmm… Doctor’s on vacation until the end of the first week of January and doesn’t have a handy-dandy-sidekick, so who the fuck do you suggest I call if I have side-effects?! Jesus? It is the holidays. Maybe he’ll make an appearance if I’m desperate. Or should I call 911? What’s the split on that dosage? 99/1? If I’m short, how about some thirty-something ovum? I’m sure a recovered crack whore and her city hall husband, Monty, would be none too pleased to have a thirty-something Jew egg. What would be more insulting I wonder, the “Jew” or the “thirty-something?”

Fuck.Fuck.Motherfuck.Fuck. Fuck them with a fine tooth comb covered in lice and crabs. Fuck their eyeballs with searing hot, multi-colored toothpicks. Fuck their noses with impregnated-ready-to-pop black widow spiders.

Have a Very Leather Christmas!

To all of my fabulous non-Jewish readers, I wish you a very Merry Christmas!

Love,

Jewgirl & Bondage Santa

Jaymahlyn Keep Ur Baybay, Love LeeWee

Thanks to the goddess that is SaltyMeat, we have this meaty dish: Former Teen Star Applauds Jamie Lynn Spears for Keeping Baby. Lisa fuckin Welchel (AKA) LeeWee is proud of this 16-year-old abortionphobe for keeping the spawn of her loins.

And, what would LeePee do if her beloved daughter came home with a cum clad womb after taking a vow of chastity before God. PS: daughter wears a purity ring and all, as a reminder of her blessed virginity.

LeeSkeev's comments on Spears decision not to have an abortion, "I'm so proud of her for stepping up and being courageous and taking responsibility for her choices, and I believe she's being a good role model — a good role model in that situation, to choose to have the baby, and … I am supportive of her in that situation."

I want to scream at this snatch, at the top of my lungs, SHE is a CHILD having a CHILD. This is wrong.wrong.wrong on every level. These God fearing Christians need to wake the fuck up and teach their children about sex. Kids fondle and fuck. Arm them with knowledge and teach them to use condoms. The fear of God clearly isn't cutting it.

Let's think for a minute, the man they are supposed to worship is HOT. Stay with me for a minute: Easy on the eyes Jesus is hanging on a Cross in nothing but a loin cloth and a thorn hat. He's got a wicked manly physique and these kids are not supposed to have thoughts about what it would be like to have sex with him?! Build a bridge, my friend. There isn't a Christian queen or teen that hasn't fantasized about Jesus showing up at their bedside for a little midnight delight.

Stupid.Stupid.Stupid.

Ah, thank you, Salty Goddess. This was fuckin' tits dish! You made my night.

PS: my other loves MadamZ, Creepy and Ribbed wrote the best comments, aaaaaaand some fabulous new found faves commented as well. Check it out. Fucking hilar.

Slutney Spears is Knocked up at 16

Oh, I lah'me some white trash God fearing Christian gossip. Jamie Lynn Spears is 16-years-old and knocked up. Fuck me around the corner with a giant Cross and a thorn hat. The shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame.

For the love of God, child, HAVE AN ABORTION. You people are done procreating. Use a condom and slam some foam up your flange. Turn that womb into a war zone. Would it kill you to have an abortion? You are a CHILD. Why isn't her mother encouraging her to have a fucking abortion?!

My favorite quote from the article is what mama trash said about Jaymalyn's pregnancy, "I didn't believe it because Jamie Lynn's never late for her curfew."

Come'on, you're white trash, you know better. You can still make curfew and get your fuck on, mama. Ain't nobody know that betterd'n you. You done got yurself all knocked up when you was 16'n all.

What a dumb ass thing to say, "Jamie Lynn is never late for curfew". How fuckin' stupid do you have to be to say that OUT LOUD. It's one thing to think fucktard thoughts, but to say them out loud brings it to a whole'notha level of shame. shame. shame. This is a shame sandwich with chips and dip.

Merry Christmas from George and Laura's Bush

Best email forward evah. Grazie ma.

Blacklisted

I'll be dipped in Jesus' shit, I think the Christian site I'm way OCD about broke the fuck up with me. I am hoppin' fuckin' mad. That's not right. It's the holidays. Either you break up with someone a month before Thanksgiving or after the first week of January. That's a break-up rule. Not to mention the fact that it's very anti-Christian. What if I was on the road to redemption?! What about my soul? Has she no interest in salvaging that?! Mother fucker.

10 Great Ways to Be Sure You Will Die Spiritual

Here's a sampling of the below video.... Do not get comfy. Seek only to be filled by Jesus. Don't be a friend of the world, that's adultery. Only be friends with God. If you listen to Jesus, you can't be co-opted. Don't put a crippled lamb on the alter. Man up. When he forgives us, he forgets we whacked him. That Jesus is such a mensch. Stop playing footsie with other religions. If you preach self-help and someone drops dead without optioning into J's program. Their blood is on your hands. Make sure other people are comfy. Tickle their ears. Try to help God along. Don't get twitchy, he's coming. Chill. Watch it.

Beverly Hills Episcopalians

My sister and I schlepped to the Beverly Hills AT&T / Cingular store today to get her an iphone. We've banned the other locations closest to us because of their dead dog jokes.



Ker is "i" obsessed these days. It started with an ipod 3 months ago. A month ago, she broke up with PC and bought a Macbook. She's now a no-joke igirl.



Anywho, as we were heading into the store, we noticed a stream of people leaving the Episcopalian church across the way and can I just tell you that I had no idea what great racks Episcopalian birds have. It's unbelievable or it's just Beverly Hills. These blond broads hiked up their hooters, their skirts and broke out their deepest v-necks for Jesus. I nevah saw such a thing.



When my people go to shul, we don't usually inject silicon into our lips and slut-up for God. I guess episkys do, which, if you think about it, is kind of a refreshing change from the prairie muffin crew.

I need to stop blogging now and write. Must focus.

Loving....

Cunt Fit Squared

I cracked a mother fuckin' cock suckin' tooth-with-filling last night. fuck.fuck.motherfuck. FYI: It's very uncomfortable. I woke up again at 4AM with class-5 cramps and a tsunami bursting through the clam dam.

I got the lovliest, sweetest holiday cards from monkeyboy and bethylish. Isn't that so menschy. Thank you guys. I also got a postcard from Teeny. She's in Egypt. She said, "Eh, you've seen one tomb, you've seen em' all." Funny, no?!

Back to the cunt fit. I am so mad! Six weeks prior to The Kid peeling, I found out that my next door neighbor's dog peeled. My heart broke for her. She chose to get another dog, so I got her some dog chach. It was such a difficult time for her and I wanted to be supportive of her choice. Welllllll, do you know that since my dog peeled, I've run into this cunt a half dozen times and each time, she hasn't said word one to me. I am fuckin' furious about this. She won't even look me in the eye.

The reason why I'm hoppin' fuckin' mad right now is because it's The Kid's birthday month and I'm a bit overly sensitive at the minee. Anywho, I ran into her again this morning and she ignored me. WhadI do?! Bupkas. Argh. Woman up, Schwartzy. Geez Louise.

Gay? Hit GodTube.

Go GodTube, Go. Smooth move telling these beautiful voracious bottoms to be and gorgeous lesbian divas eager to come out, how very wrong they are for knowing in their hearts and souls they are gay. Good job. Good job. Good job.

A Letter from Hell

For the love of God, if I mean anything to you at all, I beg you to watch this. It is so fucking funny. It's also sick and wrong on several if not all levels. It's how they indoctrinate children into going zealy nuts. Josh let his friend die before sharing the one thing he could.... his personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

Glow in the Dark Cats?

This morning when I was cruising the news, I saw this video of cats being cloned to glow in the dark. That's cruel, offensive and deeply disturbing. Call me stupid, but why is it that cats need to glow in the dark? This qualifies as a noteworthy scientific endeavor because?!?!?!?

Postal in my Vagina?

Yesterday morning I got my period. I followed protocol: pills. Pad. Rock back and forth. At 4AM I woke up to what must be at least 6 postal workers with machine guns spraying a half dozen postal offices. But, in my vagina. The wounded are pouring out and dragging my womb with them. If they don't stop shooting soon, I'm going to call FEMA and the National Guard. Oh, wait, they wouldn't show up.... The Coast Guard? This is a liquid issue.

Bush's Shit

Via Politits, I came to Fran I am. Two kick ass dames. Via one of Fran I am's posts about bushfuck, I found I can't believe it's not a democracy and a post about, I kid you not, what the secret service does with Bush's shit when he's out of the US. Can you believe that our tax dollars are being spent on a protocol for Bush's asstastic movements?! I'm not sure what's more offensive.

His shit ain't bein' brought back to the US for composting because he's a narcissistic bastard. I want to know what that doody is being used for. I am entitled to know. Spill, Bushy, spill.

I'm also curious about Bush's jiz and which secret service man has to drop to his knees for facials when Bushy is abroad getting his jerk on. Perhaps this is Bush's way of expressing his gayires without being, well, you know gay. God forbid.

Viva La Menstruacion

You know what a menses whore I am.... Here's the scoop, I got an email last week from Danae, a very fine bird and the creator of the menstruacion calendars. They are off the fucking hook. You have got to check these babies out. You will love them and want to buy one for everyone you know.

Just Arrived

One of my bottles of perfume came five minees ago. I am so over the moon, I could scream. This week, I went on a scent tear and bought a few bottles of my favorite scents. New York by Nicolai is a scent that I haven't been able to find for ages. I found it at (I hate lame irony) LuckyScent. What's fabby about this particular scent is how frequently it changes throughout the day. It's damn sexy and worth every penny, children. PS: It's great for men and women.

I'm an avid collector of vintage and modahn scents. I ain't tawkin outta my ass. Run and get yaself a bottle.

I can't stop smelling myself. Okay, that sounds weird when it's written. Maybe it should have stayed in my head.

PS: Hit Guthy's blog today to read about tampons. It's hilar squared. Politits wrote a scathingly brilliant post about festivus. Loved it. Loved em' both.

Housewife Tarot

From the 50s... I think I'm in love. I'm overcompensating for my shitty blogger of the year award by over-posting. Shameful, isn't it? I know. I know. I know.

So Weird

For the first time in over 5-years, I kid you not, I'm, well, cold. Can you stand it? It's such a shock. I am never cold. If my nipples weren't on the floor and it wasn't 30 below, I couldn't even feel a chill. My body temperature used to run suuuuuper hot. I think it's becoming normal. Weird. Exciting. Still. I ain't turnin' my fans off. The sound is so soothing to me. I can't use heat (FYI). Whenever the heat is on, I can't breathe. I have an allergic reaction to it. I can use a heating pad. Strange, no? Ooh, heating pad. It's not just for periods.

David O'Hara

I know that we all feel great disdain for the anti-Semite, sugar tits inventor, smell shitson. This, we all agree on. That said, let's not forget the stud that is David' O'Hara from Braveheart. This man in that movie with his full beard sent my vulva lips deranged. You wouldn't want him to take up residence between your legs? Are you retarded?! Come on... You know you want him, too.

And The Shittiest Blogger of the Year Award Goes to....

I have been a real fuckball blogger this week. I suck fat mannequin ass. It's been a hell of a week. Did you know Evil Knieval died? He peeled at 69. I wasn't a fan or anything. But, he was Evil Knieval. That name alone warrants some type of honorable mention, right?

I'm on a Christian tear again. I've noticed that many of the Christian blogs I fly threw, prioritize God before their families. I don't know about you, but if my ma said she loved God more than me, it would be a real self-esteem buzz kill. Let's break it down. If I was the husband, I wouldn't feel half as sexy. J-man had abs of steel, a kitsch thorn hat and strutted around in a loin cloth. How do you compete with that?! He oozed power and presence.

If I was the child of a born again, I'd feel like I could never live up to Jesus' standards. I can't turn water into wine. I can't walk on water. I can't bring things back from the dead or resurrect more than my own erection (if were a boy). If I was a girl, well, there is no competition, is there?

Non-Sequitur Dish. Keep Pace

Danny Bonaduce has a MySpace page. Yeah. I know. Not one peeny pick. Though, he is wearing cheap mascara and dirty black eyeliner. I swear to God, this man's face looks like a prunicated, geriatric ball sack, dredged in vintage tar and soaked in southern chewed tobacco. I'm so glad he's not looking up from between my legs. I'd kill myself.

Busy day. Went to the laundrette tonight with my sister. We had such a laugh. I dished with an old friend. Weird convo. I'm afraid we're growing apart. You know those long pauses, like when you feel the person you're talking to is holding something back that you can't quuuuite put your finger on?! This was that. I hope not. I'd be such a bluejew. We've known each other for over 20 years.

I was thinking about the zelly set today and how they prioritize their love. The Lord comes first. Husband/wife second. Kids third. I'd have such a complex. Yes, I know they're freaks.

Oops

My divine cleaning diva now knows that I masturbate and it makes me a lil' uncomfortable. She's such a doll this broad. Since The Kid died there are some things I haven't been able to clean, so she comes in once a month to clean those things. I'm a freak, I know. When I'm ready, I'll clean those things myself. Anywho, I forgot that she also rips through drawers to organize them. I also forgot to hide my tools of the trade. You'd think she'd have left that drawer alone once she opened it. No. Not her. She organized my tools, according to size no less. Oy vey a shmear. Personally, I woulda left it alone. You know it has to be discussed, right? The question is, should I buy her one, and discuss that way, or should I ask her to refrain from organizing that particular drawer? Thoughts?

Did everyone have a delish Thanksgiving? Big weekend plans?

My Internet was down. It's back up. My modem peeled. The man came out today and gave me a new one. Ain't he sweet. Fortunately, when I heard the bleep-bleep-bleep of a truck outside, I flew onto the stoop ready to grab him. He had my name down as David Lieberman. I was insistent that he realize he was there for my jewrack, not some Jewjunk. How you get David Lieberman from Katie Schwartz will haunt me almost as much as Lady Hortz, which was way more plausible... I'M JUST SAYIN'.

A Little of This...

Bartholomew is doing a real bang up job tonight on naybah girl. I reckon the boy found her g-spot tonight. Good show, Bartholomew. I'm thrilled for you. Dying to know what he looks like. She's showering him in yelping mew's, gasping to call out his full name. You know how she likes to do.

Check out these keywords I've been coming up on:

• danny bonaduce penis and danny bonaduce's penis: One post and now I'm the bondaduce teen peen queen?!
• coco fishnet and coco fishnet dress: I post about her split knish, not her fishnets
• vintage pussy: vinty whore, yes. geriatric porn fan, no.
• christian domestic discipline: OCD about that, sweetie
• john mayer jewish: Is he one of us?
• Katie Schwartz: I would hope so. I'm disappointed nobody searched for cunt and found my blog.
• thyroid: Good. Good. Really good.
• pussy eating contest: wrong blog. I run vadgelip contests

I've had a rather successful menses this month, donchya think?!



Thank you all so much for your incredible kindness, support and generosity. Ah, ya's had me kvelly and teary with your wonderful comments and delishmails. A million thanks just doesn't cut it. Dildos? Vibrators? Cock rings? I guess a fruit basket won't make the cut after that, huh?! THANK YOU!!!

Best News Evaaaaaah!

So.So.So. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Guess what?! I'M A FORTHCOMING TITLE. I've never been a forthcoming title. It's fuckin' tits, ahhhhkay. My essay collection is being published in the spring of 08' by So New Media, Amy Guth's publisher. It gets bettah, BFF Amy Guth is EDITING MY BOOK. I know! Are you plotzing and kvelling?! ME TOO. I'm beside myself. Don't ask. It's positively the most wonderful thing in the world. I am so excited. This Jewbroad is the luckiest dame on the planet.



Guthy, thank you for bringing my collection to ya publisher and fah being the menschiest of menschy dames and oy where do I begin?!



Crionaberry, we discussed... you know, my sweet.



Thank you to the most supportive and divine writerly writer friends and fellow bloggers. Ah, you just don't know. When times are shitty, ya's are there. When they're great, you're there, too. You're the best community I have ever known. If I could stuff ya's inside my womb and show you how much I appreciated you, I would. But, you'd have to fly in via my cunt. I say that like it's a bad thing. What am I blogtarded?!

Mama Gin Strikes Again

One of my favey bloggers, CPunchman is guest posting on All the Way from Oy to Vey! I'm so excited!

If you are as a big a fan as I am of Mama Gin, you will love this. What Cpunchman captures is always genius.




-------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Gentle Readers of All the Way from Oy to Vey,



Katie has generously offered to host this week's episode of "The Mama Gin Files." I was unable to post it on the front page of Coaster Punchman's World for fear of retribution by Poor George, who forbade me from publishing the video. However, since the trials and tribulations of living with Mama Gin is my story too I feel altogether entitled --- at least as long as I don't get caught.

Click here to experience Poor George trying to practice his bass clarinet in the face of Mama Gin's daily dose of harassment.

Google Video has been acting really weird lately, so it may take several clicks on the "play" button before you actually get to see the video. (It might tell you it's "unavailable" a bunch of times - something Google is trying to iron out.)

And if you aren't amused by crazy Chinese ladies harassing their gay sons, there are also some cute cats in the video. Maybe that will make up for it.

Enjoy.

CP

Oh What a Menses it has been!

Yesterday, I started menstruating and got good news. Today, I was cramp free and flowing a'plenty and I got the BEST FUCKING NEWS EVAAAAH. I will loop all of ya's shortly. I have a few phone calls to make and e-stalks to send. You know how you do. This weekend, I'll be spilling like nobody's bizola. All's I can say is The Kid's an angel and he's really looking out'fah his mama.

I'm Menstruating and More!

This afternoon I started my menses. Last night, I was in crampsnatchville. Today, the cramps are very heating pad friendly and the flow is steady as she womb rolls. No clotting. No tempests. Just standard menstrual happenings in flangette town. Tonight I am prepared for a war zone and believe you me, I will win the war.

According to Spinner.com, LL Cool J's pre-concert peenyquirements are "(1) small bottle of Johnson & Johnson Baby Oil and 24 long stem de-thorned roses".



Let me tell you why I love him so hard for this, he's creating a romantic masturbatory experience and sharing it with the world. The visuals are fabulous. I imagine he dims the lights. Stands in front of the mirror and slowly takes off his shirt, smirking at his reflection and gushing at the image of himself. He watches himself jerk off and cum into each rosebud. It's just a hunch, ahhhkay. According to rumor, his cock is otherworldly huge, like vadgey run for your life huge.



Speaking of cocks, check out today's spam headline that came in my box: stimulate a tremendous shlong Katie. Spammers might not know my gender, but at least they know I'm a Jew. Props, children, props.

You must, must, must read Guthy's latest 6S, Juniper Place, it's an excerpt from her second novel and it is so beautifully written. You'll fall madly in love with this character in just six small sentences. Run. Read. Now.

The Fixx Reading Series

This Thursday, November 15th, don't miss Amy Guth's The Fixx Reading Series!


Here's the dish from Ames, pay attention, children. That's your cue to be good listeners. That was my big teacher moment. I've always wanted to have one, I just envisioned it would be with a man... Wait, I'm getting sidetracked - FOCUS, PLEASE.

The Fixx Reading for this month has been thoughtfully moved forward as to not get lost in the shuffle. So, that means that you can get your lit fixx this Thursday, November 15th @ 7:30pm with this month's guests: John Sheppard author of Small Town Punk and Renee Rosen author of Every Crooked Pot


The Fixx Coffee Bar
3053 N Sheffield Ave.
Chicago, IL

Please note that due to various winter holidays, there will be no reading in December but a stunningly awesome January event, to be sure.

You heard the broad, get your Fixx, peeps. Great authors. Great host. What's bad?! Bupkas that's what. Run like a dawg this Thursday night.

The Writer's Strike

Of course you've heard of the writer's strike, you're not writetarded. Make no mistake this is a no-joke ishy of epic proportions. The writers are in the right. Writers are asking for 4 cents. 4 cents-- that's it. The networks and studios would rather lose millions of dollars every day than pay 4 cents. This makes sense to you?! Oy vey.

Check out this fantastic video Why We Fight, first discovered on my favey new site Very Hot Jews.

Shows are shutting down. The ripple is in full effect. Producers and below the line peeps are being laid off and fired. Authors scheduled to promote their books on late night can't. So many financial hardships could result from this mishogos. All this ahj is worth not forking over 4 cents?! I have nothing to say and everything to tawk.

I found a fabylicious interview with Joe Medeiros head writer for The Tonight Show. Oh, wait, not done yet, and equally juicyviews with writer/producers Judd Apatow, James Brooks and Gary Shandling. Sign a few petitions and show your support. This one and this one.



Boost my button, the one on the right lapel of my bloggy, the typewriter. Hey, I'm not a fuckin' designer. I'm a writer for crissakes. Whadya expect?!

The Jewish Reconnection Project

The Jewish Reconnection Project is spearheaded by Todd Schechter.

Todd said, "The video is the first in a web-only mini series I produced called the Jewish Reconnection Project. It shows young Jews in New York and Jerusalem talking to each other and sharing how their Judaism affects their lives. It's meant to give viewers a sense of the diversity of Jews around the world and to let college age people express their own ideas about Judaism. Ultimately, we hope that helping disparate groups of Jews understand each other will make for a stronger, healthier Jewish community. New episodes will come out every Wednesday for the next six weeks."

It's a six part series that you can view on their site or over at YouTube (links below). I've posted the first installment Chance for Peace. The other installments are Morally Damaged, Our Promised Land, Jewish Enough, Necessary Criteria and A Place to Call Home.

I watched the videos (5-6 minutes a pop. Ya'can't spare a half-hour?) I'm joining the Shmooze Group. You should, too. Pushy enough?! To learn more about The Jewish Reconnection Project and Todd's vision click here. Ga'head.

The videos are so well done and so interesting to watch. Some views you'll share, others you might not, but the project works because you feel connected.

Mazel Tov, Todd. Beautiful work.

The Toilet Revolution

This lovely asspalace cost a mere 1.2 million dollars. It's being built by Sim Jae-duck, chairman of the World Toilet Association. I had no idea that an actual toilet association existed. Oh, but it super does, complete with a delightful anal stimulating photo gallery. There's even a world toilet college. Just what I always wanted, an advanced degree in shit. Outside of fetishists, who would dream of becoming a shit erector? They even have a section dedicated to toilet entertainment. WTA must think we're shittards. Every savvy shitter I know fills their bathroom with the latest and greatest in shitware.

Lucky us, they have games, too! Catch a shit and Toilet Trouble Quiz were topping my list until I discovered Bathroom Chemistry Quiz: Do you know what’s in your toilet? I digress, I'm a shittard. Hi. Keenly aware of all the anal mishigos that goes on in my porcelain goddess.

Here are some excerpts from the article Mr Toilet Nears Completion of Commode-Shaped House.

"Sim is building the two-story house set to be finished Sunday to commemorate the inaugural meeting later this month of the World Toilet Association. The group, supported by the South Korean government, aims no less than to launch a "toilet revolution," by getting people to open their bathroom doors for the sake of improving worldwide hygiene."

"The toilet revolution should start with talking about toilet issues freely," said Song Young-kwon, head of the organizing committee for the five-day conference that opens Nov. 21. The Seoul conference will be accompanied by a toilet expo featuring exhibits to excite the public about the cause: including a "Hansel and Gretel" bathroom made from cookies and candy that gives presents to children when they flush, and a "toilet gallery cafe" where people can sit on colorful commodes while drinking tea."

And what about for seniors? They get bupkas? I guess the gift of shit is gift enough.

Children can pee in Mother Theresa. There goes a few more future fuckable men on the planet. I wonder if the flushtone is Ave Maria. That should help in contributing to ailing peens everywhere. In case that fails, boys can pish into an alligator's mouth. Let's hope it growls and howls. No future peeny dysfunction writing on that wall.

After peeing on Mother Theresa's eyes and claiming it was an act of God, give the kid a sweet piece of ass to wash his hands in. His weepeen won't reach her in the from-behind-zone. Luckily, his nose will be smack dab in the center of her tuchas, thereby stirring his imagination of one day becoming a graduate of the World Toilet College.

And, finally, children.... The last excerpt worth mentioning from the article, "Occupants gain access to the roof balcony around the rim of the "bowl" by climbing up stairs through what would be a toilet drain - which is equipped to collect rain for some functions to conserve drinking water. The home is encased in smooth, white-painted steel that appears similar to the ceramics used to make toilets."

After rimming your way inside, he'll be serving tossed salad with unpurified toilet water. I sure hope I get an invite!

Unfuckable Laugh

I am the first to admit that I have a hearty, robust laugh. I live to laugh. It's my drug of choice. I howl and even snort at times. With all of those laughoibles, I have never been told that my laugh was unfuckable. EVAH.

Today, I witnessed an unfuckable, haunting laugh. A laugh so high pitched, so duplicitous and so from-the-neck cackley (not the womb, which is much deeper and more authentic), I wanted to vomit. No, run. No, vomit. No, run. Both. Yes, both.



This broad exploited and perverted laughter. It was an atrocity. She couldn't be stopped. She laughed mid-bad-joke and at no-joke. She abused laughter, reviled it and stripped it of integrity. I am appalled, shaken and disgusted.



PS: This bag'a bones keeps landing easy-on-the-eyes peen and with a laugh gone so shamefully awry. Oy vey.

PSS: I can also report that she laughs in front of her peeny suitors. I wonder if they're deaf.

So Much Dish So Little Time

Oy, so much to say. Ahhhkay-- my darling Virgo (love'ha), hooked me up with a menses link that seriously took my wig off today. You know what a menstrual maven I am.



Metaformia, A Journal of Menstruation and Culture. When I logged on, it was love at first sight. I needed this today (thank you, Virg). Can I just tell you that Metaformia is a lip smackin' literary menses feast for the soul. There are articles, essays and poems. The poem I read today was so perfect. The blood we don't discuss, the blood that gets no love. Run. Read. Now: All Blood is Menstrual Blood by Judy Grahn.



I started linkdating VeryHotJews today. Super Jewey noshables. Run. Read. Now.



My father sent me a facebook friend request. It was sweet and funny in a new-millennium-dad-like-sort-of-way.



My darling DrugNazi (love him), sent me a snippet of Christian dish (thank you, bubbie) that made no fuckin' sense to me and seems like very anti-zealy behavior.

The Christian Nudist Convocation (CNC) Our name summarizes what we're all about: Christian - CNC events are first and foremost Christian events. We seek to honor God through the Lord Jesus Christ. That is our primary motivation. Nudist - Secondarily, we affirm the goodness of our bodies exactly as God created them. Convocation - Finally, we believe in the value of gathering as likeminded people for mutual encouragement and fellowship.

Whatever happened to that part in the zealy bible about, oh, you know, what is that again? Right... maaahdesty, maaahdesty, maaahdesty. Translation: Don't be struttin' your slut in front of no mans unleth-he-ya'huthband. And, mens don't be lettin' the kettle and tea bags shwing in the wind for her to see. gluttonous, hypocritical, bush votin', gun totin', "g" droppin' whooa's all of em.

The Faith Between Us

The Faith Between Us is a new book written by Peter Bebergal (Jew) and Scott Korb (Catholic). Scott sent me excerpts. PS: I bought it. Can't wait to receive it and read it.

The writing is exquisite, soulful, honest and insightful. Their friendship, the way they became friends and ultimately co-authors of The Faith Between Us-- Ah, so kvelly. The exploration of religion by their design and the way they seamlessly bridge the gap will take your wig off and bring tears to your eyes. It's beautiful. I can't wait to read it.

Please buy this book. Catch a reading. Check out their work. I am loving them so hard right now it's just not funny.

Happy Birthday Teeny!

Happy Birthday Teeny Weeny!

I wish you good health, creative inspiration and an abundance of happiness.

e-stalk our beloved Tanya Espanya a very happy birthday. Or leave a comment here. Or on her bloggy...

I'm plotzing our teenajha is becoming a woman.

Love,

Schwartzy

Christian Cuddle Parties Continued

Fredrick Schwartz from one of my faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaavorite reads, Editorials from Hell's Leading Newspaper, with a writing crew that will make you scream and gasp, wrote about christian cuddle parties:

There are some things more frightening in hell but only things that happen on terra make me drink so early in the morning.

His spin is politically brilliant and off the hook hilar squared. You have got to check this out. Run. Read. Now.

Danny Bonaduce's Creepy Peen

I'm not sure what's more disturbing, the thrusting jacked sack. Or, his dirty orange palms color coordinated to match his freakpubes leading to the creepiest weepeen I've ever seen. And, I'm not even a size queen.

Help me. I can't stop staring at it.

Happy Halloweeeneeeee

The Aquarius Spam from Hell

I'm an Aquarius. I also love a good spin on my sign. You can imagine how pleased I was when a friend forwarded me this nugget:

AQUARIUS - The Sweetheart. Optimistic and honest. Sweet personality. Very independent. Inventive and intelligent. Friendly and loyal. Original and unique. Attractive on the inside and out. Eccentric personality.



I ooed. I ahhed. Lovely. Until I saw this... 11 years of bad luck if you do not forward!

Cunty enough?! Happy fuckin' Halloween to you, too, Snatcherella. Gaaaaaaaaaaaahd.

Christian Cuddle Parties

Sing it with me, oh Bubbsie, I love you so-oh. Oh, bubbsie, wubbsie, thank you so-oh for the big christian show-oh.

Bubbsie sent me a link to Christian Cuddle Parties and this fabulous article about fondling without fucking.

There is so much dish here I can't stand it. Christly cadets desperate to save their blessed virginity, guess what, there's a fondle fest in any city USA so you can get your touch and make-out swirl on. For the price of $30 and a new pair of flannel PJ's, you can participate in a hugging orgy or in a puppy pile. Check out the video.

Andre Traversa wrote an article for the no-fuck-zone called Confessions of a Christian Cuddler. One of the things he drones on about is something he read in Sin Fest Rolling Stone, about this rock group that wears masterbands. Each member wears their lil badge of honor UNTIL the member has jerked his member. His shame is the instant removal of said jizband.

Masturbating and fucking are very healthy. You don't want to test the merchandise before you buy it, that's ya business. At least touch yourself so you know what you like. Slam that hand up your flange. Grip that shaft with a fury (white stuff comes out. It's really cool).

Please, please, please go and check out Christian Cuddle Parties riiiiight now. Capisce?!

Jewgirl Gets Hate Mail

This is what I woke up to on Saturday Morning:

From: PaganSinner

Sent: Saturday, October 27, 2007 12:19 AM

To: katiegirl@gmail.com

Subject:



Holy Shit...another fuckin' FAT ASS ACLU LOVING LIBERAL LOSER I WAS REJECTED BY EVERY IVEY LEAGUE KYKE BITCH writing her self-important JEW blog on the internet. What a fuckin' shock... Go blow a nigger and watch holocaust films WISHING you were a tall THIN Anglo-Saxon...

--

I've always wondered why neo-Nazi's don't spell check. If I wanted to send hate-mail, I'd check my spelling and grammar so the hate-ee received a truly articulate taste of my hatefulness.

I'm also curious about why he didn't incorporate other races into his hate-letter. Maybe he's not as Anglo-Saxon as he leads us to believe. Perhaps he's a hybrid of races and that's his dirty little secret.

Pagarooney, is your mother Latin American? Asian? Iranian? You should be so lucky.

Pagester why did you send something so cliche and predictable versus getting more creative? There are a bazillion ways to spin a hate-yarn. I feel like you opted out of going there and chose to exercise restraint. Frankly, I'm disappointed in you.

Next time you take time out of your day to send me a hate letter, try to think outside the Jew hating box. Get creative! Really push those ugly buttons. I know you can do it. I'm sure you can find a republican senator or judge to help you. If you need a referral, let me know.



Oh, one last thing, Pagan, the next time you're sucking a juicy black cock and loving it, I would suggest watching a nice Jewey porn, something vintage Annie Sprinkle. Tell ya what, I'll do the same thing and we can compare notes. Let's check in with each other next week. Sound like a plan? Cool.

No, I Haven't Been Consumed by Flames

While I realize my born again zealot readers would just LOOOOOVE to know that I've been consumed by California's mini-Armageddon, I'm here to say that I've still got a pulse.

Duck and Run for Cover!

Our beloved politits, D-Cup was assaulted. Seriously. By a WOMAN. At a corporate event for having a difference of opinion. It is unbelievable. I am so shocked and so appalled and so disgusted. Wrong.Wrong.Wrong. Run. Read. Now. Please!

D-Cup, ya da classiest dame I know. Ya handled yaself beautifully. God forbid I find myself in a similar circumstance at some point, I can only that I exercise half of your grace.

What in the Menses World?

I think Niagara is missing its Fall. Let's not have a *panic-picnic. I found it at 3AM between my thighs. Too bad it's not a holiday weekend, Taco Grand Rapids could make some serious bank on tourism.

It appears that a few stragglers have made it through without paying admission--fuckers. My mothah fuckin' cock suckin cramps have escalated beyond savage. Each womb gripping runner is laughing riotously at my heating pad and pain pills. I've been tossing and turning like a fish outta water all night. I'm overtired and in pain. Argh...

I am grateful. I'm menstruating and everything is working. Thank God!

*thank you, izzy

Comments re: Butter My Bread?

If you don't want to scroll down, click to read Butter my Bread?

Some of my favey bloggers don't understand why I butter my bread and don't eat it, so lemme splain.

1. It's not torture. It's a routine I used to have every morning. I love the ritualistic aspect of it. By going through the motion, I can actually feel the texture of the hot buttery toast melting in my mouth and it gives me pleasure.


2. I don't watch it consecutively for 30-minutes. I glance at it in passing while I'm getting ready or while I'm checking email or drinking coffee, or shmoozing on the phone. Knowing it's there brings me comfort.


3. I've had too much change in the past 8 months. I need some semblance of continuity and for some bizarre reason, I find it in toast.


4. I feel guilty because there are so many starving people in the world and to invest money and time into something that you aren't going to use is frivolous and inconsiderate. I know. It's just toast. Still. The guilt.
5. It keeps me legal, I stick to my diet.

For all of those reasons, I make toast every morning.

Joe Torre Broke up with the Yankees

I am such a bluejew. Joe Torre has broken up with the Yankees. He's the heart and soul of that team. He's a New York institution. He's got quiet rage that Joe Tore. I love him hard.

I don't have a daddy complex and I've never been attracted to older men except for quiet rage Joe Torre. He's wildly and inappropriately sexy and now he's no longer a Yankee. Sigh....

Butter My Bread?

This admission might result in some blogemmies and outright break-up's. I hope it doesn't, but I am ready to live with the consequences of sharing my dirty little secret. Ok. Ready? Set. Go.

One of my guilty pleasures is that every single morning, I take a fresh, homemade slice of sourdough bread and pop it into the toaster. I watch as my sumptuous soft bread turns to a golden crispy beige and then I immediately take it out of the toaster, so it burns my fingers just a teeeeeeeeeeny tinnnnnnny bit. I carefully butter the center and each corner, listening to the crunch and watching the hot bread soak up chilled pats of butter and then.... well. I watch my buttered toast for 30 minutes. Not like consecutively or anything, that's creepy. I watch it intermittently. And then I throw it away.

I'm on a fucking diet. I feel terribly guilty about it, just not enough to like, you know, stop. Not yet anyway. Cut me some slack. I don't just loooooooove this particular sourdough bread and butter, I am wild for it. It's other worldly. I could commit to monogamy with this bread. YEAH. I know.

Shitting Pretty

My apartment manager and I are in the middle of a shit war. Without disclosing the contents of an essay about our shitistory (fear not, you'll be able to read it soon! As if, Schwartzy. Anywho), our shituation has escalated. After taking my toilet's hand in marriage without my consent, he came back to the scene of the crime to (wink-wink) check on who-the-fuck-remembers, so he could chat up a storm and shit himself into a frenzy.



Ever since I denied him that porcelain privilege, I've noticed a faint, yet noticeable stench of anal wretchedness that no ass should legally be able to produce, just outside my bathroom window a few times a week. What should be a grassy area between my building and the building next door is a gassy area thanks to shitfucker.



While sitting in my kitchen this afternoon, I caught him quietly skulking past me and towards my bathroom window. I ripped open the blinds and said, WHATRYA DOIN?! He was so stunned, he said, Oh, oh, oh, nada, nada-nada-pipes-pipes-pipes. How stupid does this yutz think I am?! I said, Listen you, I am onto you and your funky ass. If I jump through this window, will I unearth your private dumping ground? Because if I do, you have no idea what deep shit looks or feels like. I'm about to crack your ass wide open, buster. MOVE IT ALONG.



He sprinted from the scene of the crime. I don't know for certain if he was shitting back at me because I came between him and his lover. I don't want to find out. Alls I can tell ya's is if I smell that funk again, it's on, my friends. It is ON.



It's my own little version of Like Water for Chocolate ... without the sex--Thank God.