The Queen Twatted Me And It Felt Dirty In A Good Way.....

Following a celebrity on twitter is pretty interesting. I'm not too starstruck as a general rule, but it's interesting getting a peek into their world and twitter is probably the closest you can get without literally following them at a restraining order distance. It does feel personal, but only from the non-celeb side. The celeb most likely doesn't follow you back, (except LadyGaGa! hey gurl! Did I mention I don't get starstruck?) doesn't know you, doesn't care - most of the time, they only tweet their other celeb friends. A lot of them do respond to the masses, but the more followers they have, obviously your chances of getting a reply are slim to none.

So you can imagine the sheer twitter vomit pandemonium it causes when Madonna jumps onto her manager's twitter and starts to tweet.

And sure, I'm right there making feeble attempts to attract the Queen's attention. I've proposed to her numerous times, sexually twittered harassed her, I've told her that her ass is such a work of art that it should have it's own world tour. I throw those twats out there, not really expecting a response, because thousands of other people are doing the same thing. I just hope she'll read one and go, "Oh LadyHAHA, she's a hoot!" (yes, Madonna uses the word 'hoot.' Don't question me.)

On May 1st, a day that will now be in the midget history books, Madonna jumped onto her manager's twit account and started twitting away about how she was at Jessica Seinfield's house cooking. I did my usual twitter come-ons, asking her what she was wearing and other pervy shit like that. I only twatted her three times and almost called it a night, so imagine how the midget's bowels loosened upon her cabbage patch pants when, from the clouds, royalty touched my computer screen and asked me....

guyoseary@LadyHAHA tell us a joke..
7:46 PM May 1st from web in reply to LadyHAHA

Oh! My! SkidMarks!
Did she...?
Is she...?
........muh......??

The Queen has asked me to dance!!! Oh yes, Queen, a dance I will do! And dance I did. I told her as many jokes I could possibly think of. She signed off a couple minutes after. I still don't know if she got to see any of my jokes. But with her one magic twat, she's officially appointed me to be her royal jester and I'm happily taking the job. And really, she's given my twits a focal point (jokes) which is good because if i twitted about real life, it would be little nuggets of extreme importance and interesting topics like this:

Just woke up, had a cup of sugar and cream with a dash of coffee.

My ass itches. Should probably take a shower soon.

I want Circus Peanuts.

I gotta fart. Oh wait. no.....I gotta go to the bathroom.

Phew, close call.

Although, I have a feeling she might have read some of my jokes and it might have tickled something in her because she gave me the Hahas right back when she wore this to the NYC Met's Costume Gala last night:


Oh Madge. Darling, my love, time to get rid of some of those 'Yes' men/women who are clearly doing their job all too well. Or maybe, just MAYBE, she was SO inspired by my humor that she wanted to physically represent my hilarity via a hilarious outfit! Another attempt to reach out to me? A subtle way of saying, yes midget/LadyHAHA, I love you too? Perhaps.

It really is the only logical conclusion.

Your Best Friend's Fetus Just Added You As A Friend! Click here to Confirm.

* So I FINALLY opened a Facebook account in September because everyone was like, "OMG, you sad little raisin still hanging out at myspace. The older, more mature folks kick it at Facebook!" And the funny thing about Facebook is if you find one person from high school, Facebook takes it up on itself to suggest adding every person who ever went to your high school along with their unborn children. It's freaky. But on a positive note, my good friend Elisa, whom I previously thought to be lost in space, found me on facebook and alas, she's not the space cowboy I thought she was. She was just in Portland somewheres - but she has space cowboy tendencies and that's good enough for me.

* For fun, sometimes I like to pretend I'm in Pamela Anderson's head, watching her thought process. (which I'm guessing is a lot like watching clouds pass over the sky - only with a faint smell of cheese Doritos and hot garbage in the air). I was particularly interested in learning what went through her head (besides wind and lint) when she put together this outfit.

"Hmm, maybe I'll let my open crotch sores get some air and not wear pants today. No one will notice if I carry this shiny purse."

Oh Pam, why so classy?

* Operation get the hell outta Dodge is in full swing. We're officially going to be living in Bumblescum, Missouri in about 8 months or so. No, Bumblescum is NOT a real town otherwise I'd already be Mayor - nothing but awesomeness can come out of living in a town called Bumblescum.
I'm almost welcoming the move at this point. I'm just over being broke. Moving to Missouri means we can breath again and that is a good thing....well that and I just realized that they have Sonic over there and the thought of getting tots covered in chili through a drive thru makes my soul sing sonnets.

* Along with planning this move to Mizzo, I've looked at some hip hop classes in Kansas City that I can take. Not just to keep myself busy but to work on my meet Madonna masterplan number 687. Since my masterplan (686) to polka my way into Madonna's tour with my accordion didn't work this year. In fact, I was still so bitter about it that I was giving the guy who did get the gig the side eye and hateful glares during the concert whenever I could. So my next masterplan is to improve my dance moves so that I may pop and lock my way into her tour next year.
She SHALL fall in love with the midget's sweet sweet moves! Trust it.
Quick, what should my B-girl name be???

* Is it weird that nothing in my head says this is ridiculous? In fact, the more ridiculous, the more my brain gives me the green light to go ahead with the idea. Even viking hubby is no longer surprised. He just smiles and nods at me like I'm a short bus rider with a helmet.

* I used to know a guy who, even after taking a shower, would still kind of look sweaty and dirty. I mean, part of me know that he was damp because of the water, but he still appeared to have a dirty film covering his body. It wasn't visible but it was there. A dirt dusting that's so powerful in it's scum that normal water cannot washeth away. I think Matthew McConaughey might be one of those guys. I can't tell if he just got out of the shower or the gym - he looks as if he smells of bong water and whiskey, even worse, I can't understand why I find it so appealing.
Maybe it's his abs?
Naaaah.

Just to make sure, let's see what those abs look like again....


Nope. Those abs don't look appealing at all.

My Mood Swing Is Equipped With A Baby Seat.

You know, I can keep a poorly written post up for weeks on end, I post cheesy youtube vids up just because I'm lazy, I even post half-assed FLFs (yeah remember those?) just to say I did it but I cannot for the life of me leave a whiny, wah wah baby post up for long.

So forget the last post. Yes, I'm still sad that we might have to move and thank you everyone who posted comments - seriously, it really did make me feel better about the whole situation. I can get quite dramatic and over the top when the waterworks start coming in so it's nice to have people reel me back into the reality of the situation. (along with the bright side) And hey - as of now I'm still in Cali. and I'm going to be thankful because...oh that's right, in a couple days it's THANKSGIVING! And no matter what happens in the future, this year, I'm celebrating in shorts and flip flops and just keep telling myself that everything happens for a reason.
So this is me with a straw, sucking it the fuck up.

Ooh brain freeze. I also thank, this kid because you just can't stay sad after watching that.

Moving right along..let's have a peek at the Hollywood freakshow shall we?
(see? This isn't even a half-assed FLF, this is a 3/4 buttcheek FLF!)

So when two vapid idiots have a baby, does a black whole swallow up the parents to prevent them from passing their idiocy on to their child? Unfortunately, no. Last time I checked, Tommy Lee and Pamela Anderson are still polluting the atmosphere with their overinflated sense of self worth and pock marked genitals. But I'm not talking about that crusty couple, I'm talking about Peter Wentz and Asslee Simpson's new bundle of joy; Bronx Mogli Wentz.

Let that name sink in a little bit. Then hope this child gets a free car from the BMW for advertising their initials for the rest of his life. Plus, when other boys go out and play catch with their fathers, this poor kid is going to go on mani-pedi outings with his dad. I'm sure Peter can't wait to pass on his straight iron to his little man. If anyone deserves a BMW, it's this poor child.
Do you think they take turns breast feeding?

Anyways, mark this date on your calendar. The day the midget kind of, sort of, talks smack about the Queen. First of all - girrrl, between me and you, drop the A-Tard. Please. Go have your fling and then pat his ass gently out the door. No overnight stays, no kissing on the lips, and from the looks of him, no talking. Just a fling girl, then fling him out the window. I don't approve of this affair on so many levels, but mostly because he always looks like he's huffed a few too many computer cleaners. There's a Mary Jo Buttafuco thing going on with his face that just doesn't sit well with me. And I'm betting all my circus peanuts and diet Dr. Pepper that he's an open mouth breather. Second, this dress.

The only way this dress will ever be okay is if I can smoke it off you baby.
Or if you were just being festive....
Because if that's the case, then I'll be more than happy to check out the presents under that tree. BazzZING! (I love the mother of all cougars okay. Don't judge me.) I still heart you Ms. Ciccone. Marry me, adopt me, or kidnap me so I don't have to live in Missouri. Amen.

This year's sexiest man alive was Hugh Jackman, which was a HUGE improvement from last year's pick, Matt Damon. Matt Damon gets me about as hot as a bowl of Grapenuts.
So good pick People magazine because I definitely agree. He is fwine...

Sexiest man this year? I agree!!
I agree again,and again, and one again for every ab muscle...

Phew! Gettin' hot up in here with those fine ass pictures. I think I'm going to need a bowl of Grape Nuts to cool down a little...or get a picture of Matt Damon - same thing.
Although, on a side note, I have a feeling Mr. Jackman might not be opposed to having a little tickle pickle party with Mrs. Tom Cruise. If you get what I'm Clay Aiken sayin....

Sing it girl!!

Another reason I'm cheering up so fast is I get to relive my pre-pubey tweeny days of awkwardness with my friend Jenessa because The Block is in town baby! As in not so new kids.
Although, you know with my budget, our seats will be in the cheapy sections so high up that I'm positive we'll need to hire a sherpa just to get up there.

(The cheapy tickets are like 40 bucks I think and the sad thing is I sold something on ebay just to get some extra cash for this. - thank you random stranger who FINALLY bought my PX90 dvds after I posted it for several weeks.)

So what to do in such drastic measures? Act like a fool of course and throw all dignity out the window. (Thank goodness I lost my shiny box of dignity about three Madonna concerts ago). I'm going to beg for better tickets via a sign, a handful of kazoos and some brilliant kazoo playing on my part. I'm pretty sure once the New Kids get word that an awesome albeit freakishly short chick is out front playing nkotb songs via a kazoo they'll throw the backstage doors wide open for us with front row tickets in hand right?
Right? For sure right??

You think I'm joking but really you'll be there...

Video coming soon! (it won't be a five hour vid this time I promise)

Snots so hot.

First thing's first...if you made it through my whole Madonna video (13 minutes which in our ADD world translates into 13 hours) then congrats and thank you for sharing the moments with me. (Tug and J powered through many links just to see it. :) I'm sorry it was so long but I made that movie for Joey and I - so we can relive every moment. And come on!! How close was I??!?!? I think I went through about five pairs of pants I was so excited. So what's my next Madonna goal people? Dinner you say? Dinner with Madonna is next! Even if it means she's eating dinner at the Ivy and I'm in a nearby bush somewhere nibbling on a stale bread stick. That still counts!

But I'm somewhat sane again, coming off my Madonna high. The withdrawals weren't that bad because really, I don't think I could have had better seat than the seat I had in San Diego. Especially in L.A. where most of those seats were probably already taken by celebrities. I don't regret missing Britney (who walked on stage in a pant suit and then walked off? Um. Yay?) and I already seen Justin and his neck hair in NYC (when your adam's apple is furry, it's time to bust out the Bic shaver yo.) so no big whoop and I certainly don't regret waiting for hours to get out of Dodger stadium. Oh and that whole 'no money' thing also factored into my decision.

Okay, besides telling you the new location for my Madonna stalker blog, mums the word on Madonna for a while. I'm sure you're all sick of it.

A quick blurb on political stuff...
While I'm extremely pleased that Obama has been elected as our new President (amazing) BOO on California for voting yes on Prop H8TE. I would like to say I was shocked, but actually I wasn't. Yes On Prop h8te's propaganda was aimed at scaring parents into thinking that the school would teach our children about gay marriage (oooh. teaching tolerance. no, we can't have any of that.) And the endless signs of YES ON H8TE that practically started from my front door and were spread like a disease all over town. I just had a feeling it would sway people who were undecided. Prop 8 passing hits me especially hard, not only because I have such wonderful gay friends, and a wonderful gay cousin that this prop discriminates against, but also because it wasn't too long ago that marrying outside your race was looked upon in the same light. Had I been born in an earlier era, this would have been my fight. I can't imagine someone telling me that it's wrong or that we can't get married simply because we're not of the same race. I hope in a couple years, (sooner rather than later I hope) not allowing gays to marry will sound just as ridiculous.
In the end, it's about two people who love each other, who decide as adults that they want to build a life together and to have the same rights as other individuals who make the same decision.
It's as simple as that.

And if you don't agree, I respect your opinion; however I'm not stating my opinion on Prop h8te to ignite a debate on my blog. So save the comments against because I love to use my blog admin powers and delete shit. (I'll take a power trip anyway I get it.) And truth be told, my blog is kind of a diva and arguments hurt her ears.

In other lighter, snottier news..

I'm sick ladies and germs... Just as November rolls around and I got all into the groove on my running, I get sick! (and trust me, me and RUNNING in the same sentence is a big thing. My old rule on running was 'only when chased' - but my ever growing buddha belly has caused me to break that rule and ignore my burning shins.) Hopefully knocking myself out with Nyquil will cure me of my 10 pound, snot filled nose and achy breaky body and I can get back into my runner's high. I guess this kind of high isn't achieved by funny brownies but by putting your body over your threshold of pain that it releases endorphins to make you forget about it. And I'm doing this voluntarily?

Yay. Fun. :/

I'll be more interesting next post - I gotta go my Nyquil high on.

Sore Throats, Soiled Panties, And Joyful Howling. It's just another night at a Madonna concert.

Joey caught me worshiping.

A night that cannot be explained. Obama is the President of the United States and everyone in the place was so happy, including Madonna who forgot the words to Ray of Light and then screamed 'It's because I'm so FUCKING happy right now you guys!!" The energy was incredible, amazing, awesome.

I made a mini-movie of our Journey to Madonna and scoring the most incredible seats ever on the most incredible day ever! Seriously.

EDIT: the video below has been on and off working, so if it doesn't work, click here
Or try the link below: (one of them SHOULD work)

Journey 2 Madonna

Have a Happy Fourth of July or you're going to get a spankee...

HAVE A GREAT FOURTH OF JULY!!!!!!! Start it off with a heaping helping of an American Flag Burrito stuffed with Madonna and a side of flaming hot gays....(reminding you to vote...?)

May Cause Anal Discharge...

Sorry, I'm running out of subject titles and I just now heard the "anal discharge" term on T.V. as one of the symptoms for some pill that helps you lose weight. ("I'm 100 pounds now!...except please excuse the giant shart stain on my size 2 pants") I would rather be obese than have anal discharge. Seriously. What the hell kind of symptom is that? We can put a man on the moon (allegedly) yet, we can't make a weight loss pill that doesn't make your sphincter faucet leak??
Anywhooo......what was I talking about?
Oh right...
So you may be asking what does one do when one is tapped out of new Madonna stuff? (okay, you most likey didn't ask that of me, but I didn't have any other good segways alright picky mcpickerson?!) One could just replay the Madonna DVD over and over again, but since one has a husband who has threatened to pitch the DVD into the dog bowl, (puhleese, unless he wants a crazed midget holding a knife to his achilles tendon, he knows better than to do that. ) One must find something else to occupy one's time. So during this drought, one has to go to the next best thing....which to me, is Gwen Stefani. (Yes, I am not cool enough to like bands/singers that are not on Top 40 or named Cucumber Melon Slices ....or some shit. I am one of the masses. Apologies all around.)

I nabbed me some tickets for her show in Phoenix Arizona on April 28. I decided to go see the concert in Satan's Taint because my friend Debi has the unfortunate luck of living in Arizona and I wanted to go see her and take her to the concert with me. It should be fun and honestly, I'm a lot more fun to be around when it's NOT a Madonna concert. I've been to two No Doubt shows in the past and, without even really trying, I've been front row to both concerts. See how Gwen smiled at my camera?



So yeah, no secret covert operations to gas the security, hide their bodies and squirrel my way to the front. I don't have any self imposed "rules" on myself and others who dare to join me, like I do at a Madonna concert (no going to the bathroom lest I miss any part of the show, no drinks an hour before show starts so I don't have to go the bathroom, no bringing friends who only like "her old stuff" lest I scratch their eyes right out...) ...to sum up, I like the word "lest" and it's tiring being Mrs. Ritchie's bitch. So Gwen's show should be fun.

Moving right along....

Valentine's day is coming up and to be honest, the "excitement" of Valentine's day died for me after elementary school. In school, you got to shop around with your parents and pick out the box of V-day cards that everyone passed out to everybody on V-Day, you debated whether you should include some type of candy treat because you know the candy/card givers were the ones that were genuinely loved that day. It was fun, because no one had to "prove" their love, because even though you were giving a valentine's day card to the kid who smelled like pee and moldy towels, there was an understanding that it really didn't mean anything. Everyone was just happy to be able to munch on some candy in class (it felt like you were getting away with something bad) and maybe have a round of "Heads Up Seven Up" while we waited for the sugar high to kick in.
NOWADAYS however, Valentine's day is hyped up to unrealistic proportions...it's sets up everyone for disappointment by inundating us with "ideas" to make Valentine "memorable" for your loved one...which is really just a ploy to see how much money guys are willing to shell out to score the nana or to at least avoid the icy glare for not getting the right gift or not being as romantic as those imaginary boyfriends/husbands on t.v. "Buy this heart shaped gold pendant with a hidden diamond inside for your Valentine if you REALLY love them, don't just get chocolates and flowers you loser!"
What's wrong with chocolate and flowers?? Present me with chocolate and I will know that you truly love me. Present me with CHOCOLATE FLOWERS and fer sure you're getting LAH-AID. Maybe I'm just a simple gal, but I don't need all the hoopla for me to feel loved....if someone needs a three ring circus with a fire breathing dragon doing the Macarena to make them feel like their significant other loves them, then they should be really glad I'm not their significant other because they would get a box of chalky valentine hearts and LIKE IT. (and they should know that fire breathing dragons dancing in your living room is frowned upon by Smokey The Bear.) I don't have anything against big romantic gestures, I just have something against being "forced"
to do it on a certain day and placing unrealistic expectations to "prove" your love with how much money you spend. (Thanks Hallmark! Fuckers.)

One of the sweetest but more disturbing gifts I got for Valentine's day was from my ex. He was very big on making romantic gestures that stank of insincerity with a sprinkle of hidden agenda. (to make himself look great). I'm sure he did love me and I'm sure he really thought that a giant stuffed dog, a giant bouquet of flowers, and a box of candy bigger than my head, that he brought to me at work, would be sweet. But making me take the long way out while holding my gifts (which required that I walk in front of other co-workers, ) so he could get a tickertape parade from other chicks about being "the sweetest boyfriend ever!" kind of made me lose that lovin' feelin.
Anyways, one time he got me an ENTIRE outfit for Valentine's day. Skirt, cute top, shoes, earrings, the ENTIRE outfit. That matched.
That he shopped for.
BY HIMSELF.
With no female assistant to be found.
It WAS cute....and I'm sure other women out there would've LOVED that, but for some reason, I suddenly felt like I was in a lesbian relationship or that I had just gotten a gift from my flamboyant hairdresser Francois'. Plus, I also knew he would want me to wear the outfit just so other girls can ask me something about it and I can say, "oh.the greatest boyfriend in the world got me this outfit...aren't I lucky??" Swoon.
Instead, I told others that my life partner got me the outfit for our commitment ceremony.
I don't know why he got so mad about that.

Best Valentine's gift ever?
This guy I was dating had no money so he got me a pint of my favorite ice cream -Chocolate Malted Crunch from Rite Aid (with a red spoon taped on the side!) and a box of chalky Valentine candy.

The man obviously studied and took notes on his customer.

Which is probably why I married him. :D

The Adventures of Mrs. Ritchie's Bitch.

The Place: Target
Tools: Target Gift Card
The Mission: Sniff out the just released unedited Madonna DVD/CD. With BONUS FEATURES!! Oh baby, is it Christmas time AGAIN?! Hoooo wee!

1:30 p.m. Drove to Target. Parking was difficult due to idiots crowding up the parking lot waiting for the sweet spot at the front of the store. Because god forbid they park too far and have to walk a few seconds in the rain (..it was barely sprinkling people..).
Using my midget stealth and craftiness, I found the first available parking spot and braved the elements (two wet drops on my t-shirt). I walked passed the line of cars waiting for parking, laughed, pointed and shouted:

“FOOLS! Bwahahahahha..!!!”

and then I slipped on the asphalt, skinned my knee and walked shamefully into Target.
Lesson learned Mother Karma. Lesson Learned.

1:35 p.m. Wander the store aimlessly with a slight limp (skinned my knee remember?). At this time, I was unable to find the cd/dvd/entertainment department. Panic sets in.

1:45 p.m. AHA! I spotted a flat screen T.V. in the corner of my eye, beckoning me to partake in the newly released DVDs displayed below it. Panic replaced by excitement. I fart a little.
Apologies to the guy behind me. Why yes, I did have a burrito for lunch, whyever do you ask?

1:55 p.m. Wandering the department aimlessly, looking at newly released DVDs display with no luck. Panic sets in again. Palms sweating. The search continues.

2:00 p.m. Lets see.....Babel….March Of The Penguins…The Illusionist…..holy Maria Mother of Juan…where fore art thou is Madonna!?!? The thought of possibly having to order it through Amazon and (GASP) wait 3 days for it to get here, causes me to start hyperventilating uncontrollably. Short of breath, I huddle in between the self help and diet books and babble incoherently as I sway frantically to and fro.

2:05 p.m. Before a full out Rain Man incident occurred, a savior comes to my aid in the form of a gay guy in a faded red Target smock. He doesn’t even have to ask. I can see in his eyes that he is a wise one who can sense a distressed hag within a 10 mile radius.
He knows what I seek.
He leads.
I follow.

2:07 p.m. My savoir hands me the vacuumed sealed Madonna goodness with a calm smile and gently says, “It’s on sale girl.”
I hold back my tears….(and fart just a little.)

2:08 p.m. Due to unforeseen circumstances (I blacked out from excitement), I do not recall the events that occurred at this time.

2:10 p.m. I was led to the 10 items or less checkout line by my Target savior. He advised me not to go on Madonna excursions without my licensed gay Madonna sponsor (Hi Joey!) until I had more experience under my belt.
He disappears into the electronics department, leaving a scent of Curious perfume in his wake. I forgive his bad taste in perfume and thanked him.

2:12 p.m. I presented my Target gift card. (thanks San!) The cashier ran it through, bagged my treasure and sent me on my way.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

UNHEALTHY: