This is a webpage about sick and twisted me and my many drug and alcohol-fuelled rants. Find out allll about my dark little part of the world and why I am so messed up. Why my box turtle is as slow as a Druid on Valium. Why my dawg Jemma hides from me under the bed. And why my neighbours live in fear. |
This is a webpage about sick and twisted me and my many drug and alcohol-fuelled rants. Find out allll about my dark little part of the world and why I am so messed up. Why my box turtle is as slow as a Druid on Valium. Why my dawg Jemma hides from me under the bed. And why my neighbours live in fear. |
Don't forget to sign my guestbook you worthless cretins! |
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I HATE people who are so anal that they wouldn't get a joke if it came up and kicked them in the crotch. In fact people LIKE that SHOULD be kicked in the crotch. There are waaay too many serious people out there in etherland and they should just drink a case of beer and smoke a joint and MELLOW OUT! I have this wonderful recipe for Shishkabobs that I have posted in recipe clubs and have gotten the most vile emails over it..I mean, really...do you actually think I make this recipe for guests? Scallop and Babyhand Shishkabob Ingredients: 12 soft dimpled babyhands, wrists removed 12 large bay scallops 2 cloves garlic chopped 1 tsp. ginger salt/pepper to taste large pineapple chunks large red pepper chunks Mix garlic, ginger and scallops together and let sit for 20 minutes. Taking long metal skewers (or alternatively bamboo skewers that have been soaked in water for an hour), thread them thusly: red pepper, babyhand~ palm up, scallop (nestling each in the palm), pineapple..repeating in this order til filled. End with a piece of red pepper to secure and salt and pepper to taste. Grill over medium high coals, turning often for even browning, til the babyhands curl around each scallop and the nails pop off (should be approx. 8 to 10 minutes depending on the age and size of the hands). Have a spraybottle of water HANDy for those annoying greasy flareups. Serve with a green salad and a bottle of white wine and plenty of crusty garlic bread to sop up those delicious juices. Now is that such a bad recipe? I ask you... btw..I'm available for FREE BABYSITTING Anytime, anywhere. |
"I'm hearing alot of people don't like you here. If I find out you are causing problems in here, you won't like what I will do to you. First I'll find you. I'll pay you a little visit. I'll bring some friends in case you resist. When we get there we will hold you down and shove a GOLF CLUB UP YOUR ASS! I'll take photos with my digital camera of the entire event then post them on all the clubs you belong to. That way everyone can see that you are not all that like you think you are. Don't try me mother fucker. I'll do it and I will get away with it. I'm not the one you want to piss off. Watch what you post when your in your clubs." Acid Burn |
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I feel very much like killing someone right about now. Forget this killfiling crap. I want to kill someone - really kill 'em, right now! And right now you look like a good choice, Morticia. How dare you back sass me after I have shown you nothing but respect? Twenty one years driving a cab, 200 miles a day, all sorts of conditions, and not a single accident, not even a mild fender bender. And you're gonna tell me how good a driver you are? Get real. Keep it up, and you may get dead. I want to kill! Tommy Joe |
Green Brownies The first time I ate pot brownies (or any MJ baking for that matter) I was told by my STOOPID pot eating lunchbucket friend Frank that the average amount of an 8 X 8 pan that a person should eat (with a 1/2 oz. in it) is roughly half the pan. He had about 50 lbs on me. *Apparently* weight is a factor in the stone level. So I started to eat these things and because of how long it takes to actually hit you, I thought well I guess I could have another (and another and..) because I seem to be handling it pretty well. Mebbee a couple twp three beers would help to wash them down with. Then it hit me...I was sitting back on the couch when my mouth started to salivate and I had the strong urge to sit up abruptly in case I had to bolt for the can to projectile vomit. My body sat up but my EYES stayed at the back of the couch and didn't get back into my HEAD till a few seconds after my body had sat up. It was time to Go Home. I got a ride home and thought that a nice hot bath would make me feel better as there was NO way I was going to sleep. I drew a nice hot bath and settled into the water and was relaxing for about 5 minutes (I'm picking out a thermos for youuu) when my mouth started to salivate again and the SAME THING happened. My body sat up but my eyes were laying at the rim of the tub. My vision was all wonky and my eyes weren't working in tandem with my body. I LUNGED out of the bath tub and *Buickkkked* great gouts of green brownies into the porcelain throne barking till I was dry heaving, then went shivering and wet to my thilthy little bed and huddled under the covers in the dark till blessed sleep relieved me from my misery. It is interesting to note here that I subsequently used the same friend's skewed thinking when eating peyote buttons and magic mushrooms, but those are stories for another day. |
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Digital Cable and the 5 day old Bundle of Joy One night I was idling flicking through the hundreds of useless channels I now get with digital cable, when my nerveless fingers hovered over the channel up button and I paused for air. There was a woman laying in a hospital bed holding a baby, with a man sitting by her side. They were both fawning over this newborn, rubbing its cheek and whispering softly to it. The baby peacefully slept through the cooing and cuddling when alla sudden the woman started loudly wailing into its shell-like ear with real anguish on her stricken face, giving me reason to further hold off on the changechannel button. This baby is STILL sleeping and it is now being passed to the man by the weeping woman. The man put the baby in a tub of water and gently washed it when it dawned on me..this baby wasn't waking up because it was sleeping the Sleep of Death. Now having never seen a dead baby on a TV show before, I was quite fascinated by the proceedings and cracked myself another beer and settled in for the duration to see what would happen next. Well, not since the *Baby Roo Memorial Page* have I been so amazed at the lengths parents would go to for their deceased sproggen. For the next 5 days this poor dead baby was passed from person to person and bathed many times and changed and cuddled and treated just like a real live baby. It even looked like it was wearing diapers (leaking orifices?). Through the miracle of TV I was witness to 5 DAYS of the parents and family and friends coddling this thing. Four of those days were spent in the hospital where the STAFF let them have the carcass in the room with them, then it was bundled up to be taken home to look at its new room, where it was 'shown' its toys and blankies and things. I have left 2 lb. pkgs. of hamburger out for a few days by mistake and it didn't smell pretty after 2 days. A full term baby has to weigh 6-7 lbs at least. Judging by the beautiful shade of violet its soft plump white flesh was turning after 4 days, it would be getting a little high by then, and although I love babies as much as the next guy (no) a LIVE reeking little bundle of joy is bad news (pass that baby on), but a ROTTING FLESH who-left-the-trout-in-the-sun reekiness is a little much. I didn't get to see if it was stored in the crisper at home, but I ASSume the house was beginning to tell their sad tale to the neighbours. Finally the eggplant-in-training was laid to rest, all the while the mother in hysterics. Everybody took this scene in stride as she had been doing this for 5 loooong days, and after laying it in a neat white coffin and feeding it to the flames of eternity, we presume the long slow mourning process began. Jump to seven months later. The mother still had all the baby things in its room and went in there regularly to 'sniff' the baby clothes. She had set up a memorial table with candles and pictures of the corpse in repose in her loving arms. Alas things didn't turn out well for the woman. After 7 months of it, I guess the husband had had enough and left her, with an empty crib and a broken heart. |
This is how many people were coerced into coming to this STEENKING website. |
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The Black Turd From Hell I recently found out I am anemic and have had to take iron supplements daily. My shit is one long continuous cement-like, black and as big as a fist log. Every bowel movement is accompanied by much whimpering, wailing and gnashing of teeth. Once it starts, I can't *shoop* suck it back up again so I have to press on as it were, trying to give birth to this monstrosity without turning my asshole inside out. When I try to flush any of these amazing turds, invariably there is a log jam right where the turd-o-hell has to turn the corner and it just spins on its axis leaving a very pretty pattern in the bowl, but refusing to leave its birthing spot for the scary unknown around the bend. Consequently, the S/A's toothbrush hasn't had such a workout in months. So last night, after having wiped my eyes and blown my nose from my latest endeavor, and dabbing at my sorry ringpiece, I tried flushing the mighty thing for 5 minutes to get it around the bend, before I brought out the Plunger of Doom. So plunge I did and lo and behold, out of the depths of hell, came a giant turd the likes I have yet to give birth to myself. SOMEbody had shat before me, callously plugged up the loo before me, then just ...walked away (innocently whistling I would think). The only person home was my 11 yr. old sprog. The one-sided convo went thusly: You! Yes YOU! WHAT have you been eating that would cause you to have the Turds From Hell setting up camp in our toilet? I don't remember feeding you THAT! Now get in there and clean that up! She was in there for 20 minutes trying to flush both of our shits down the toilet and was sufficiently embarrassed not to question the black color of the last one. |
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Apathy about Atrophy Alcohol causes atrophy of the brain. I know this for a fact. It makes parts of the brain die and that in turn, interferes with bodily functions and leads to mental and physical incapacitation. The bodily functions include unexpected voiding of the bowels and bladder. The mental aspect is not unlike the symptoms of dementia. If you are an alcoholic, in your future is a bare stained mattress on the main floor of your dingy abode, doing away with such annoyances as stairs and bathrooms. This is your future. Look it in the eyes and embrace it. You 'forget' things all the time, even when sober. Your IQ level starts to sink. You can't finish that crossword puzzle quiiiiiiite as fast as you used to, instead sneakily incorporating the crossword puzzle 'clues' into everyday convos to coerce the answers from unsuspecting people, then you scurry back into your thilthy bedroom to scribble them down. Your speling sckills will have hit the sckids, hindering the placing of the sneaked answers in their respective squares, causing you to roll around in apoplectic fits, gnashing your teeth and grabbing your crotch in sterile frustrated rage. About now your bowels will be so unhappy from all the raging and spelling efforts that they will let loose with their dirty payload, in a spreading patch of brown in your groinal area. Writhing from the searing pain in your rectum and ajoining delicate taint (mustn't live on chili dogs and beer alone) the hot pungent liquid seeps up to your genitals, warmly lapping at your balls dangling free in your ratty old bathrobe which has become your leisure-suit of choice over the last 10 years. This is about the time that you really realize that your brain is not functioning properly today, because it took you up to THAT EXACT POINT to realize that your genitals are covered in liquid shit. Jumping up, you stagger sideways as, with your lessening bodily functions, your sense of balance is starting to go too. With brown liquid-y lumps dripping down your legs and into your down-at-the-heels carpet slippers, you break your fall with a nearby wall, careening off and toward where you think the bathroom is; even though this is your own house, sometimes you get 'lost'. Leaving large erratic shit stained hand prints you lurch down the hall to the opposite end of the house from the bathroom (having once again gotten 'lost'), and falling prone across your thilthy bed and leaning your head over the edge you let go with a streaming technicolour yawn, down the comforter and across your circa 70's red shag rug. Dragging your shaking wasted body to the top of the bed you burrow under the covers hoping the vertigo problem will magically go away, and you wait out the dark lonely night to face another darker, lonely day. One day your 6 week old swollen gaseous corpse, flyblown and writhing with maggots, will be found naked and in an uncompromising position, in a puddle of its own excrement, clutching one last bottle of alcamahol. |
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Spiiiders Whenever I find a big hairy knobby-kneed FUCKING spider in my bathtub I FREAK rightthefuck OUT!! They are sneaky and HAIRY ..they crawl in places that I wouldn't even put my turd-encrusted fingers near. I like to immobilize them with hairspray (the spiders not my turd-encrusted fingers) and while they are still WET I like to sprinkle them with Draino (tm Proctor & Gamble) and watch them do the 'funky chicken'. Then I like to slap them with my fly-slapper till their legs fall off. Then I *flick* them into the drain with a couple of bank-shots and flush them away with boiling water for good measure. Then I run my tongue alll over where the spider was to make sure there are no bits of spider-stuff left in the tub. After peering down the drain with a flashlight, I take a pair of tweezers and fish out any hair and slimy gunk that happens to be caught there and run my TURD-encrusted fingers from one end to the other to see if the little bastard is hanging on for dear life..by his teeth of course, as he has no legs.. and quickly pop him into my mouth, slimy hairball and all and drink a bottle of Cuervo to wash it down with. After I have hurled into the tub I check through the lumps and bile to see if it is still breathing. THEN I feel content and safe and pile all the vomit into my widemouth thermos to keep it body temperature so I can rub it on my genitals later. |
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Tony When I was a small girl in the depths of my troubled childhood fraught with all manner of dysfunction, I came to know a fellow named Tony. He was amiable enough and started hanging around me about the time things were really starting to heat up around the ol' homestead. For a while I found myself with no friends and my 5 year old self was lonely and afraid. He was always there when I needed him for solace and eventually became my constant companion. Soon I found out that my new friend had a penchant for doing evil things. In the beginning it was innocuous stuff, pulling the dog's tail, dismantling live bugs, the usual kidstuff. Soon his habits turned to a broader, more sinister spectrum. Gleefully trashing other children's things, stealing from the corner store. And because we were always together, I always got blamed. But this didn't deter me from being with Tony. I came to love and depend on him. Soon Tony was visiting me late at night and many a night my mother would come into my room to admonish me for giggling and banging and crashing around my room and I would say but it was Tony. She never ever believed it was, though. Not once. It was always MY fault if something got broken or stolen, MY fault if a neighbor kid said he got cornered and made to stick bobbypins in his peehole in the alley. Soon Tony and I were going further and further abroad as we were allowed more leeway, walking to other neighborhoods so he could beat a cat to death or masturbate in the bushes in front of someone's house. I must admit I never left his side during these incidents. I was fascinated by the disemboweling of the class hamster at recess in the dark corner of the furnace room. The stealing of precious possessions out of the cloakroom and the pile of booty that was accumulating in my closet. Why I let him use my closet for his stash I will never know. Gradually as I made more friends and moved on to other pursuits, he disappeared from my life until I had forgotten him completely. He was gone from my childhood memories completely. It wasn't until a couple of decades later I found out who Tony really was and I found it shocking and unbelievable. It seems that Tony was an invisible friend I had through the ages of 5 to 7. My whole family has backed this up as fact. And as it was discussed in great detail it came back to me. There never was a Tony after all. Now I may not be famous to the general population, but during the mysterious 2 year reign of terror in my neighborhood, I was. |
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TO |
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MORTICIA'S PLAYHOUSE |
Great work, at least now you are admitting what a monster you really are. You really are disgusting, I hope that you someday see how ugly you are, and remove your picture from your website. I won't post over 100 times to your guestbook again, you are not worth the effort. In your head you know I am right about you. So take your nightly Prozac, wash it down with Shoprite Ginger Ale, and listen to Frank Sinatra records. You really are ugly, I am sorry to break that news to you. I was just reading your stupid baby hand recipe. My god, you really are a fucking idiot. It amazes me to think that this is something that you think is either witty, or funny. It is just proof of what a loser you really are. I can't believe you get digital cable in your trailer park. Hi,I am Morticia, and I don't know who 'Anthony Russo' is. It may be a man, or perhaps a woman. I have no idea what this persons age is, although in my dim little brain, I imagine that Anthony is a 13yr old, and a male. Although Anthony may be anybody. I could be just a name drawn at random, like lets say, Anthony Russo from the show Blossum perhaps. Either way, I am a stupid trailer park bitch. Now there is one thing I do know, that I am older than Anthony, why is that? Because I am so fucking old that very few people are older than me that could still use a computer. Most people my age are collecting social security. I am doing the world a favor and not posting a picture of my dried up vagina that probably looks like an old camel's toe. Yes, I am Morticia, a hideous old hag who brags about my drug and alcohol use, and puts up my stupid stories just filled with the kind of humor that would appeal to the average 6th grader. In reality I am a washed up piece of white trash, who never went to college, and probably works at a local 7-11 on the graveyard shift. Hey Morticia, you lost lifes lottery. You are just a washed up nothing, you have done zero with your life, you have never traveled, you have a shit job, and you are poodle haired old monster. So delete this post and put up some retarded little attack on who you guess is Anthony Russo. You will still be ugly, and bitch, you are not going to get better with age, you jumped the shark like 2 decades ago. Anthony Russo |
