Because I know you want to know more about whale dorks.

My Wacky Naked Neighbor asked me the other day, “Does dork really mean penis?” So I gave her an example, from my old friend M (why won’t I use names? Shit if I know. Like he’d care): “Remember that time I got drunk and started piercing everything? I even pierced my dork.” Heh heh heh. He later married a sweet, pretty and extremely wealthy girl and ran off to Hawaii, so obviously it didn’t hold him back in life.

WNN called her male teacher a dork, in front of the other students. Oops-la.

Oh cheese and rice, Amalah tagged me. Just because she hasn’t slept in like, a week or something, and is now doing whimsical things she would not ordinarily do.

It apparently started here. Well, I have been drunk and on In-Law Time for the last week and totally out of my groove. Have you gotten any advice here? Have you received any recipes? No, no, no. Have we discussed how my Wacky Cousin is getting grief for deciding to not cut her son’s penis? Yeah, she’s having A BOY!!!! And his dork is no one’s business, okay? So forget all your pro-circumcision arguments cuz she does not care (“What about when he’s comparing his dork with other boys’ dorks! His will look different! Or theirs might! Or what if he’s friends with all Jews! They could be offended!” etc. to fucking infinity.)

And have I even discussed this here yet? No, because I have been drunk, as I said. Wacky Mommy, Drunk and Knitting.

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Another one from George Carlin:

“I have as much authority as the Pope, I just don’t have as many people who believe it.”

Quote of the Day, from George Carlin:

“Here’s all you have to know about men and women: Women are crazy, men are stupid. And the main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid.”

I’d like to amend that to: Women are evil, men are stupid. And the main reason women are evil is that men are stupid.

Case in point: Tom Cruise. On the cover of Parade mag today, TC asks, “Who’s to say what’s normal?”

I am. You’re not.

Love,

WM

PS — Sorry no advice column and recipes last week — outlaws just left. I’m ready for a liver transplant, per usual. My MIL and I have redesigned my yard (in our heads, as to not interfere with our indoor cocktail hour) to include lots of reds, oranges and yellows. Enough with the pastels. WM back to normal this week. Yes, normal. Run, Katie, Run.

Did you wonder when I was going to post again? All of my bookmarks and shortcuts, including the one I use to post new entries, mysteriously were deleted from my computer. I Am Computer Genius and it took me three days to figure it out. Actually, I never figured it out, Wacky Dee saved my ass. Again. He is my Zoot.

So, how you doin’? I heard Joey and his wife split up. What the hell is wrong with these movie stars? Fucking be nice to your wives, OK? Tom Cruise. Brad Pitt (too late for you, I’m thinking. Maybe you’ll be nicer to Angelina?). Matt LeBlanc. Yes, I’m talking to you.

Also, on a separate note, Wacky Grandma and the kids built a Redneck Gingerbread House for Joy, Earl, Darnell and the crowd to move into, but the dog ate it. It looked like this, only better. She parked a tiny Matchbox truck in front, filled with bitty green plastic bags full of trash, and put a satellite dish, made out of a washer and a twist-tie, on the roof. Dammit, I wish I would have taken a picture when I was thinking of it.

See what you haven’t been missing? In-laws are here, must motor.

Oh, Internet, I have so much to tell you and so little time in which to do it. Let’s just say this much — my in-laws arrive tomorrow, and for me to remember to clean out the car and get it washed before they get here? Really, this is such a coup for me. All before 10 a.m. on a Monday morning. Also remembered to buy tonic for the gin, and planned out menus for the week. What a little domestic goddess.

WM

PS — Took the kids to the Shriners’ circus this weekend. Have decided that Wacky Dee needs to strive for Shrinerhood, and wear one of those funny hats. And ride a four-wheeler around before the circus, waving to the kids. I will be a “Shriner Lady.” Lady Wacky Mommy. Ta-ta for now.

Dear Wacky Mommy,

How do you get your in-laws to stay in a hotel if they are going to visit you every three or four months for a week at a time, because we live in a small two-bedroom house and it would be more comfortable for all of us , especially for their three-year-old grandchild who gets displaced from her bedroom to her parents’ room every time they visit?

Signed,

Expecting Company

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Spring Break = No Homework.

True or false?

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No news from contractors since last Thursday. Yeah, you’re thinking, “She’s never going to get that frickin’ bathroom done. Blog about something else, would you?” Sorry, I can’t.

Oh, wait, they did call to say that marmoleum was too expensive and homeowners’ insurance won’t cover. (Thank God they’re footing the cost of some of this. Yes, I’m fond of “African Desert” and “Red Copper,” too, how did you guess?) And that we should go for tile, instead. Oddly, my husband wants tile (cold); I prefer marmoleum (warm). What does this say about us? What does this say, that the contractors magically agree with his choice, not mine? Bastards. They’re in cahoots, I know it.

(Note to WM: Figure out prices yourself, why don’t you? Enough of this male bonding bullshit between my spouse and the contractors. All their conversations go like this: “How you doin’?” “How you doin’?” It’s like having Tony Soprano here, times three or four.)

Now comes a call from Himself, AKA Hockey God:

WD: “So, I just talked with the contractors.”

Me: “I can’t hear you!”

WD: “They got the tests back — there’s asbestos under the bathroom floor.”

Me: “Break out the red and the blue!!! Blah blah blah moves on to glory! Courage will lead us on to vic-to-ree-ee-ee!”

Yes, that’s right. I sing my high school fight song when I’m ignoring someone. Or I can always tune it to the “bladdity blah blah blah” channel, as Roxie suggests.

Check out this great Portland winery, Hip Chicks Do Wine.

After that news, I’ll need them. (Hip Chicks Do Whine? Only sometimes, when the news is rilly bad.) Check out Blue Heron French Cheese Company, too. Delicious brie and nice wines…

“Tell all the Truth but tell it slant– / The Truth must dazzle gradually /
Or every man be blind.”

— Emily Dickinson, poet (1830-1886)