Polka-hontas Needs To Stop

No Fan Letter this Friday! Surprised? You shouldn't be, since there hasn't been anything but the "P" word in celebrity news. Because you know doing all that "hard time" has basically turned her into Jesus right? With like a dash of Ghandi...except her tattered robes would totally be made by Prada of course.

Anyways, I'm knee deep in polka training right now and I must apologize for exposing you to my first clumsy steps back into the cruel and harsh world of polka. But ladies and gents, I impressed myself! After taping the first installment of Pathetic Polka Practice, I practiced for another half hour and lo and behold I did it...WITHOUT looking at the music!
So please, partake in the second coming of Amadeus!!!
...except um...I'm playing the accordion...and I don't really write music like he did...and I don't own any fancy wigs with fleas in them...and I'm not a dude...well not in this life anyways, I'm pretty sure I was a gay man in my previous life ...

but I digress...

Okay, so just partake in the musical stylings of Polkadonna:



I can see you're all in awe.
Polka Prodigy?
Perhaps.

The goal is to eventually zip through the refresher course by the end of July, then learn all the Madonna songs I can after that and then eventually play as her opening act when she tours again. By that time, I'm sure P-Diddy, Jay-Z, Kanye, Timbaland, etc. will be knocking down my door to do a collaboration of some type dontcha think?

I promise to thank all the little people when I accomplish my goal because shiiiiiittt..I AM a little people!

Have a great weekend everyone!!
Try not to bombard my email with requests for my rock n roll polka cd okay?

A Legend In The Making

The first installment of Pathetic Polka Practice.
Warning: I'm not wearing make-up so don't be scurred.




Yes I suck. (I totally mastered my rock n roll face though, ya gotta give me that!)
But I guarantee you that my one billionth installment of Pathetic Polka Practice, I'll be able to play Free Bird and THEN you'll all be able to say you were there to see The Polkadonna legend from the very beginning!
You'll be like the first toothless redneck who threw moonshine at a young Elvis and yelled at him to stop playing them the coloreds jungle music.

How lucky are you????

Sleeping & Circus Peanuts = Midget Drool

I saw this meme on Tinakala’s and Webmiztris' blog. Even though I wasn’t tagged, I thought I’d tag my own ass and take it because A. I’m horrified by the mediocrity that was last week’s Fan Letter Friday and I don't want that sorry ass post at the top of my blog, B. because when an opportunity arises where I can tag my own ass, I just can't say no and C. I’m trying to avoid my workout.
(so if you hear me bitch about "those last few pounds" please redirect me to this post and tell me to shut up and step away from those circus peanuts.)
mmm… circus peanuts……orange sugary goodness made of god knows what…yum.

My Six Sleeping Commandments:

1. Thou shalt have the fan on.
Not necessarily pointing at me, but I like to hear the whirring noise. I blame this all on the Viking hubby. He’s always hot so we always have the fan on. ALWAYS…even when it’s negative zero outside, that fan IS ALWAYS on and blowing right at his face.

2. Thou Shalt Have The Closet Door CLOSED.
Yes I’m scared of the closet monster. This is because I read way too many Stephen King books (and horror novels in general) AND I still have the imagination of a 9 year old. Plus, I have to walk by the closet when I go on a midnight pee pee run. I’m already scared that the kid from The Grudge is in the bathtub, watching me pee and waiting to pounce, I just don’t need the extra stress of the closet monster.

3. Thy Bedroom Should Be Cleaneth.
Or semi clean…nothing on the floor at least. Because if it’s messy, I just can't sleep. I’ll be laying there and Viking hubby’s undies will call at me from across the room:
"I’m dirrrrtyyy and just a mere few feet away from the hammmpeerrr..put me awaaaayyyy with the rest of my dirty clothe brethren."

4. Thou Shalt Not Sleep In Thine Birthday Suit
I cannot sleep naked or near naked. If I’m naked I feel as if my hoo ha is extremely vulnerable to the outside world…specifically any creepy crawlies of any kind. No, I don’t have bed bugs or anything but you’ve heard of that true/or not true fact that an average person unknowingly eats X (5 or 6, cannot remember) amount of spiders a year while they sleep?
I don’t care if it isn’t true, I’m not taking a chance. Hand over those pajamas STAT. Spiders are not welcome at my Hotbox Hotel.

5. Thou Shalt Cradle The Sweater Meat
If you're a regular reader of my blog, you know I have a wierd thing about keeping my boobs UP. The only time I am ever without a bra is when I sleep, so I MANUALLY support my girls when I sleep. I sleep on my side so it’s not that hard to do the one arm support. I rarely if ever sleep on my back because I hate the flattening sensation that gravity gives to my boobies...like they’re being pushed towards my armpits. UGH. I cringe at the mere thought of it.

6. Thou Shalt Lay A Foundation For Thine Dreams
To ensure that I have a good dream, I usually like to kickstart them by daydreaming a bit before I nod off. I usually think of things that would please me (a million dollars and a bag of circus peanuts for example), I daydream about the trips I would take, where I would go, what I would do. I daydream about outlandish things like becoming a rock star…with my accordion, having dinner with Madonna who is then so enamored by me we’re like totally BFF after our second round of cocktails.
Like Totally.
For sure.
(Along with the imagination of a 9 year old, I also have the unwavering belief of a nine year old that all these dreams are totally going to come true..no matter how outrageous they are.)

So there you go.
Yet more evidence for the court that I need a nice padded room.
Also, feel free to tag your own ass with the sleeping commandments meme if you feel the need.

And finally I leave you with today’s Monday Wake-Up quiz. See if you can answer this pickle:

FLF Part Four Of Four: Mange and Ninjas...something we need every Friday!

Dear Justin Timberlake,

Remington.
Gillette.
Schick.

These are but a few names for a little handy dandy tool I like to call a razor. And razors are for ?????…(anyone? Class?)…

They're for SHAVING……
…the hair…
…off your neck.
Oh sure George Michael made it look *fabulously* hip to sport a five o’clock shadow in the early nineties (post-Wham, when he evolved from being a twink to a bear..remember? ….and no, of course I’ve never seen gay porn! whyever do you ask?!?)
But you see, when growing a hip happenin’ five o'clock shadow for vanity’s sake, there are still some grooming to be done and rules to follow. One of them being that your facial hair border should pretty much stop miles away from chest hairville. (The other rule is to make sure there is a thin but visible moat between nose hair land and mustache place, lest you want your boogers to repel right into your mouth.)
These rules were set forth for your benefit and ours (because you know, we have to look at you now and again). Should you choose to ignore these rules you pretty much end up looking like you do now, a really tall 13 year old with a bad case of mange.
No actually, upon closer investigation, you look more like a old fuzzy lollipop that someone finds behind their couch after it’s been sitting there for five years collecting dust, hair, bugs, rug fuzz, bits of pube hair thrown in…...(Aaaaand BREATH..I can't seem to find the period button today.)
what?..it could happen if your couch was close to the bathroom! Those things can travel.

So anyways, I don’t care if Jessica likes the way it tickles her balls.
It’s time to shave Mr. Lollipube.

(ogod, Lollipube. That was pure cheese ladies and gents. I apologize)

Love, Me.

Dear J-Lo,

So um…don’t be fooled by the rocks that you got?..you’re still Jenny from the….uh…
..local karate dojo down the street????
I like karate as much as the next gal but I’m pretty sure you can’t do a lot of whoop ass when you pair a toddler’s karate gi with one of Ru Paul’s gold shoes.
UNLESS……
you got sharp little gold knives hidden in the heel!!!
Omigod its all coming together now!
And let me guess…those bangles, when thrown, have sharp needle points that come out from the sides that give emergency botox shots from ten feet away!
OOH OOH! And your clutch is filled with fog bombs so that you can quickly disappear from the paparazzi! (or from your husband, Nosferatu’s sexual advances.).

You are SO J-Blow Ninja from the block! My bad. Hey, whatever you gotta do to get that career revived, you just go ahead and do it.

Oh and we get it, you’re so sexy with your“sexy pose”…you can close your mouth now.

Love, Me.


Okay, I only got two in me today, sorry…as you can tell from that last J-Lo letter, I’m running low on the clever meter having attempted to do FLF four days in a row. I've come to the realization that I can only be clever one day out of the week.
I avoided the obvious Paris/Lindsey/Brit/Nicole letter because they’ve crossed beyond amusing to plain ol’ boring. I wish they could all take turns hitting each other with hammers. That would at least provide us with entertainment.

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND EVERYONE!!!

EDIT: I've jumped the shark people. So it is time to make your own Fan Letter, courtesy of Candy Spelling and Gallery Of The Absurd.com.
Post in the comments section if you please. It will probably be a lot more clever than that garbage I wrote above.
(Click on the ready made letter below)

Fan Letter Four Day Part Three: I thought her eggs dried up a long time ago...

Dear Nicole Richie’s possible future baby,

Oh dear sweet child. I feel compelled to write you a letter as soon as possible to tell you to please HOLD ON to whatever food you happen to get in there. Hold on to it you’re your dear life, even if it's just a dry old piece of toast, ration it out girlfriend! Because although we see pictures of your mom getting ready to “eat” a huge piece of cake or “devour” an entire turkey in one sitting, I’m pretty sure she’s just eating the garnishment, nibbles on the corner of her napkin when the paps leave and calling it a day.
Apparently, she doesn’t have an eating disorder and blames her Praying Mantis-like figure on “stress.”
Sweetie, I’ve been out of the partying scene for quite some time, but I can’t help but wonder if this “stress” she’s talking about comes in the form of a powdery substance that comes in a small baggy which can then be snorted or injected.
But again, what do I know? I am but a middle class, work at home mom. What do I know about stress indeed??
Really, I have no place to judge.
But I am in a wonderful position to inform you of the shady characters that you might encounter upon your entrance to the world. So here's a few you should be wary of....

Auntie Paris: Don’t get too close to her until you get your shots dear. And even then, proceed with caution, she’s got some evil pets down south that can jump right on you.

Daddy Joel Madden: Sorry girl, Real men don’t wear make up and they don’t play god awful music, and unfortunately, you daddy does both of those things. So if he decides to “sing” you to sleep and help you with your makeup when you’re a teenager, just tell him that Nana Lainey says he’s a douchebag and send him on his way.

Possible playdates to watch out for:

Kingston Rossdale: He’s hot, but a total party guy. He’s not someone to get serious with but he’s got a hot dad, so that’s a plus for all those family pool parties they’re sure to have …actually, come to think of it. His mom’s kind of hot too, so yeah, don’t forget to take your camera to those pool parties and email the pictures to Nana Lainey will ya?

Maddox Jolie-Pitt: He’s a funny guy and sure to be a do-gooder, but yeah, if you don’t think this boy is going to have mommy issues in the future, you’re sorely mistaken. (when you get the time read that on story about an unfortunate fella named Oedipus..)

Okay. so I hope you’re taking notes on this. To sum up, hoard all the food you get in the womb, that disgusting smell you sometimes get a whiff of is just Auntie Paris and your dad is a douche.
Also, when it’s time to get out of your skeletal prison, don’t be overly alarmed if the first thing you see is a pile of chopsticks with hair.
That’s just your mother.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go shove this letter up your mom’s dry old peesh deliver this letter to you now.

Love,
Your Nana Lainey

On the serious tip, if that bitch Nicole Richie is pregnant (gasp)..she better eat or I will have to shove a bucket of chicken and waffles down her throat. With a gravy chaser.
(mmm! That sounds like party time to me!)

Finally, isn't that photoshopped picture of "nicole's baby" freaky as shit!!! I might have nightmares about that baby crawling on my ceiling later this evening.
(shudders)

Fan Letter Four Day Part Two: Okay, so not really...

Dear Handymen fellers who done fucked up my house,

Hey great job on repairing our ceiling! Thanks for taking the popcorn off of it and oh look it that! Our fireplace has taken on a rocky earthy feel! Awesome job! Oh no, that’s okay if you can’t install the sinks quite right, we just appreciate all the fine work you’ve done to make our condo beautiful!

See? These would have been the praises you would have heard spew forth from my mouth if you both had enough brains to take a LOOK around your workspace and realize that you need to clean up after yourselves. Taking the fucking broom and swirling it around in one place for an hour while talking on your cell phone doesn’t count. So thanks to your neglect, I had to come back from my vacation to a condo that looked suspiciously like a powdered donut. My once luscious red velvet couches appeared to have dandruff and emitted a plume of white dust when I sat my lazy ass on them. Christmas sure came early for me this year!
Oh gee! I sure am thirsty, let me go get a glass of water….oh.wait? what’s that dear husband of mine? You had to dig my glass out from under a mound of drywall remnants that had gathered into every nook and cranny of our cabinets? FABULOUS.
You know, when I was on vacation, I was thinking to myself, "the first thing I want to do when I get home is to re-wash all our dishes and glasses!" How did you guys know??? Really. You guys are so very thoughtful!
I guess that shop vac we left you, the broom, the mop, the two additional vacuums, the cleaning solutions and the endless amounts of paper towels completely got in the way of your work. I do apologize for leaving them carelessly about. How silly of me to think that you would see these items and actually use them to (gasp) CLEAN.
And thank you oh so very much for installing our brand new sinks! I'm sure the fact that it leaked everytime we turned on the faucet wasn't your fault at all, no matter what the plumber we had to call the next day said!

You’re lucky that
A: I actually paid you
and
B. I didn’t wipe the check on my dog’s ass and shove it up your nose.

Love, me.

Okay, okay, so that wasn’t really a Fan Letter Friday post per se. I just had to vent about those idiots.

So ummm. Yeah, here’s a real (but short) Fan Letter:

Dear Pamela,

Your right rubber nipple is leaking a strange solution onto your shirt. Can android boobies lactate? If so, what type of fluid would it produce? Margarine? WD40? Either way, don’t let it set, that shit could stain.

Oh and the last of the Cro-Magnon men is walking right next to YOU! (wearing a shirt from the Jean Claude Van Damme collection.). Don’t feed it or it'll follow you home.

Just thought I’d let you know.

Love, me.

Fan Letter Four Day Part One: Something Smells....

Dear Britney,

I really truly TRULY want to stop writing these but every time you step out in public, it looks like a walking advertisement for Wal-Mart fashions…from 1992. Do you really need to air out your peesh every time you step out of the car? Damn, I think I can smell that shit from here. I’m surprised your underwear still appears dry because if you don’t know how to close your legs and slide out of a vehicle in a mini skirt by now then I’m pretty sure that the complicated act of not soiling yourself is way over your head. Lets not even get started on bathing because I can clearly see that you’ve given up on the whole “hygiene” thing years ago. I’m surprised that your inbred ass can manage to walk without a Pabst in one hand and a jar of pickled pig’s feet in the other balancing you out. I guess I should at least be grateful that you managed to put on underwear this time because if I see your roast beef sandwich (extra mayo) coming at me again, I’m going to get nightmares for weeks.
However, I am sending out my prayers and well wishes to the poor maid who has to wash your underwear. (How much you wanna bet she leaves poo poo bit surprises for the help??).

Since it’s obvious that you are way beyond help at this point, I have decided to take matters in my own hands and propose the P. C.R. Bill to Congress.
P.C. R. stands for Paint Character Replacement. Every time unflattering pictures of you is released to the public, and let’s face it, nowadays that’s EVERY picture, a Paint Character will be placed over your face/body. Like this:

WITHOUT PCR:


WITH PCR:

WITHOUT PCR:

WITH PCR:

I believe Paint is much more cost efficient than Photoshop and covers up the car wreck quite sufficiently. In fact, it makes you look better. Please note the PCR’s clear face, perfect make-up, body shaping ONE PIECE bathing suit and clean appearance.

So all in all, it’s a win/win situation for everybody and the world’s eyeballs are saved.

Love, Me.


Dear readers, please note that Proposition PCR is not limited to Britney Spears, it can also be used for the likes of Star Jones, Rosie O’Donnell, Bai Ling, that douchebag Ryan Seacrest..the possibilities are endless.
(I would also include Paris, but we all know she’s got her hands full at the moment:


So please vote for Proposition PCR.

Thank you.





.

I'm BAAACCCKKKK

...damn, it feels like forever and a day since I've blogged. I'm not gonna lie. I had internet access in Galveston but our rental house was literally ON THE BEACH..as in wake up...what's that noise? oh its the beach outside my window! Whaddya know! So yea, the computer was the last place I wanted to be. (even though I did WORK during my VACAY...yeah, please don't get me started...but I did my work at night, in my pjs, on the deck, with the muggy Texas wind flowing through my hair, so don't feel TOO bad for me). I did a lot of laying around, making sand castles, finding crabs (not the Paris kind) for my girl. Although SHE picked them up, I merely pointed at them and screamed like a little bitch when she held one up to my face. Oh and MAYBE having a glass or two of vodka and whatever juice we had on hand. I got me a nice tan during the process as well. We didn't make it past the house too much except for some grocery shopping and a refill on the ol' sunblock. (I'll post pictures up soon).
But yes, all good things must come to an end and so I'm back to my improved home (new fireplace, new paint, new bathroom vanities, new, no popcorn ceiling) ALTHOUGH the guys we hired are messy fucks and I spent my first day home from vacation CLEANING drywall out of my cupboards! Lovely. Oh and then those bills I forgot to pay for before leaving for vacation..I might have to dive into that eventually.
Sigh.
Have I mentioned that being a grown up is HIGHLY overrated?
Also, I would be lying if I told you that I didn't have a little urge to move to Galveston, TX. since the house that we were staying in was also on sale FOR THE SAME PRICE as my postage-sized condo here in California! Ain't THAT a bitch?!?!?
We were seriously looking into it.

So wow, I have a lot of blogs to catch up on and me oh my!!! did I leave you guys high and dry for two whole Fridays with no Fan Letter Friday??? Oh the withdrawals must have been ugly for my three devoted readers! I hope you at least went to D-Listed or Perez from time to time to ease the pain. But fret not ...I have an idea on how to make it up to you this week. Could it be? A Fan Letter Five Day???

I could be getting a tad ambitious....

Under Construction....

My house is done gettin' did yo and THEEEEN I be going to Galveston, Texas for a week for vacation on Saturday! There's internet access at the beach house we rented so I'm going to try and post the days events if I can.
(no FLF this week if the construction guys don't finish up by Friday! *ducks*)

HOllah.

Why Sarah Silverman Is My New Hero

Check out Paris' wonky eye expression! It truly is priceless. I almost feel sorry for her.
Almost.

FLF: The Celebrity Bible. Please Gather and Worship....

Dear Spencer and Heidi,

Congratulations on your engagement! A rich blonde with fake boobs marrying her
“producer/manager”(thanks to daddy’s money) boyfriend? How unique! And I must give an extra hurrah to Heidi’s loyalty to Spencer. Not only did he try to date one of your best friends, talk shit about your other best friend and tell Playboy models he would have a “naked picnic” with them WHILE he was dating you, BUT it was ALL on tape, aired on MTV with possible summer reruns. And yet, somehow, despite looking like a complete moron on T.V., you're STILL with him! Loyal simply isn't a good enough word to describe you Heidi. I think the word “lapdog” hits it right on the money. And NOW, to prove your devotion and love of dog biscuits, you’re marrying HIM! I bet your momma is proud and really, all of womankind salutes you for being the fresh face of feminism and empowerment. Brava.
I’m twittering with excitement about your upcoming marriage! That is if “twittering” means having diarrhea stomach and trying to hold back vomit, tears and laughter at the same time.....then YES, I’m definitely “twittering.” (Can someone enter that word into Wikepedia for me? Thanks.) The only thing I ask from both of you is to please get yourselves spade or neutered, as a way to ....ummm.... HONOR Bob Barker’s upcoming retirement.

Yeah. That’s it.

Ok, ok, I can’t lie. To be honest, I’m afraid of the future offspring that two people, (one being a horn dog and the other being a lap dog,) both with a very high concentrated amount of douche, stupid, unwarranted self importance and saline, could possibly produce. A Corgi with body image issues who throws up every bowl of Alpo she’s ever eaten? A pit bull who will try to dry hump your leg, hit on the hot Pug bitch next door and talk on his cell phone with his friends about the bitches he's banging ....all at the same time?
Who knows? Either way, it can’t be a good combination.

So sew it up or cut it off.

Love, Me.

Dear Celine,

What’s the French word for SON? Because I think someone forgot to inform you that YOU have a SON. Unless you want him to become the football team’s punching bag in high school, how about scheduling a visit to Fantastic Sam’s? Or, if you like that long flowing Ozzy Osborne circa 1977 type of look, how about NOT shopping for his clothes at The Limited Two? How about more plaid and less glitter? His name is Rene for goodness sakes’ and from the back, you can pretend he’s the girl you never had. But if you want to save him a few visits to the therapist’s office, some black eyes and save yourself from a “Mommy Dearest” tell all book 20 years from now, let’s butch up your son a tad shall we? Call Rosie O’Donnell stat. I believe Rosie’s got emergency sleeveless plaid shirts, a pair of Dickies, white tennis shoes, a Melissa Ethridge CD and a sweaty baseball cap that just might fit sweet little Rene.
Yes. Call Rosie. She'll probably caulk your tub and fix your plumbing for free too.

Love, Me.

Dear Pamela Anderson’s doctors,

Is it really nice to take advantage of your best customer? I know that it’s pretty much guaranteed that Pamela’s going to be on your cutting board every month from now until gravity is still in existence, but come on! Let’s not get sloppy with our work! Taking her nipples, throwing them into the air and sewing them on wherever they land is not proper bedside manner for a doctor. Even for a plastic surgeon! You should all be ashamed of yourselves. True, her nipples don't actually have any function at this point and really, they’re just a formality, but still. Not cool. Next time, might I suggest making them detachable? That way, when it gets cold or her dress is simply too scandalous for nipples, she can take them off and wear them as earrings or simply put them in her purse for later use.
Just a suggestion.

Actually, you know what? Scratch that. The more I look at her picture the more I’m enjoying the fact that one nipple can almost be her Adam’s apple. Next time, when throwing her nipples into the air, throw them near her face, sew them on and tell her that they’re brand new, “high fashion” mole implants. She’ll think she’s cool and no one else will notice because, really, who has looked directly at her face since 1992?
Nicole Ritchie, that’s who:


And from the looks of Nicole, we now know instinctively not to look Pamela directly in the face lest we want to have that chic Ethiopian look about us. Complete with disentended belly. Actually, I think we can blame Nicole's distrubing belly and pterodactyl feet on Paris.
In fact, let's blame everything on Paris.
Who thinks Global Warming would stop if Paris just closed her gap?
Show of hands.
(Wow. I'm taking digression to all new levels today aren't I?)

Anyways, blah blah, Keep up the good work Pamela's doctors!

Love, Me.


Man, sometimes I just cannot shut up. Sorry about that guys. I don't know where my "off" button is. Have a great weekend everybody! And if anyone cares, I'm suffering SEVERE Madonna withdrawals and have brought back my Madonna blog: "Kiss Me Mrs. Ritchie" for self medicating purposes.
Everyone is more than welcome to watch my sickness grow to beyond disturbing.