Daily Affirmations, by DeeDee and Irma

Like a Fat Kid Loves Cake

2010-05-27T16:24:00.000-07:00

Oh friends, what a long and crazy road it has been!

As Irmsies said before, we have been busy little bees in the past year, spreading our vitriol and tangy gangsta love all over the US of A. There have been other changes: Irma and I are no longer in the same city. Yes, it is true--a distance of approximately 200 sucky miles now separates the Deedster from her bestie. I am currently holed away in Wisconsin. What for, you may ask? Well, reader, choose the option that best tickles your fancy: A. rehab B. returning to school C. various black market endeavors. I miss my little Irma so badly it makes me pee my pants a little sometimes. Or perhaps I am just becoming incontinent. Either way, I am saddened.

Rest assured, my chickadees, that the bond DeeDee and Irma share cannot be broken by mere distance! We shall continue to perform and perform FABULOUSLY! And for you doubters out there: I extend to you an invitation to go fuck yourself.

Thank you, and good night!
DeeDee Madison, esq.

Were there ever two foxier ladies? Sources say no, beeyotch!

Cats and Glitter

2010-04-01T16:52:00.000-07:00

To all of our friends, lovers, haters, enemies, families, fans and anyone else who keeps it real and is cool enough to mix booze with children's cold syrups:

It is indeed true that over a year has passed since DeeDee & I have graced you all with our musings (or "blogging" as you kids call it these days). This typically just translates to DeeDee and I sharing the more mundane and possibly graphic details of our daily lives (i.e. back exfoliation, latest prison hooch recipes, Irma's current wedding and/or separation plans husband, et. al.).

I apologize profusely for this inexcusable absence. A good deal of this time spent in comunicado with you dear readers was spent unconscious and sans pants...but I digress. The point here is that there will be plenty of time to tell you all about that because Dee and 'ole Irms are back and exploding with glitter and excitement over past and future schemes to take over the world, one glass of gin at a time...

DeeDee and Irma backstage at the Jim Thorpe Burlesque Festival, ready to perform to Clay Aiken's timeless classic love song, "Invisible."

I should mention our most recent triumphs:

Venturing to Jim Thorpe, PA for their first-annual Burlesque Festival!
Here's what I love about Jim Thorpe, PA:
--The people, especially cute older ladies running cute little shops, were so adorable I wanted to pinch all of their wrinkly little cheeks!
--A local wine shop where the proprietor was kind enough (nay, even encouraged us) to let us sample every type of wine (even more than once, just to make sure it was just what we were looking for, you understand) before our final purchases...which were plentiful.
--How much Jim Thorpe, PA loves glitter and boobs. Who knew?

Chicago's First Annual Windy City Burlesque Fest!
--I loved this because it was in my own damn back yard and performers from around the country, Canada, and even the UK packed up and made the trip to party with us, Chicago-style. Very proud of all the Chicago burlesquers and lovely to see some familiar faces from other festivals as well.

DeeDee and Irma performing "Gangsta Gangsta" at the Windy City Burlesque Festival.

Ok, wieners. It's past Irma's bedtime and mama has to rise and shine early in the AM to make some kibble $$$ to feed her pussy cats. I've got two mouths to feed now, you know.

Smell ya later,Irms

My babies, Lady Amelia Bumstead-Winterbottom and Ms. Polly Pickles. They love each other.

Dee Dee and Irma's First Single

2009-02-12T14:41:00.001-08:00

Here's our first single, cockbags. Brought to you by daku mata studios and our Magnificent Bastard, Morey.

Enjoy!

Click here, assface.

Sweet Baby Jesus, It's December Already??

2008-12-11T00:32:00.001-08:00

Hello to all of our dear cyber-readers:

Many apologies for DeeDee and I being MIA for a little while. You see, it was just recently Ms. Madison's birthday, which basically means that Ms. "Birthday Princess" Madison and I have been on a virtually non-stop birthday bender for the past, oh, week and a half or so.

I myself can only recall mere snippets of memory from this most recent of our alcoholic endeavors (i.e. eating my weight in late-night bean burritos, getting several phone numbers from the bar staff of the various alcohol-serving establishments that we patronized, and chasing a half-naked and fully drunk DeeDee through the Lincoln Park zoo (I couldn't tell ya how that came about even if I wanted to).

I have nearly fully recovered from our adventures; however, poor DeeDee has caught a cold of some sort, on top of still being slightly drunk. But not to fear: it's nothin' a little jail hooch, 'Tussin, and Irma-style TLC won't fix! So, until our household is fully restored to health and sobriety, I will bid you ado and god bless.

All My Love,
Irma B-W

A candid photo of DeeDee and I on "Day 4" of her Birthday Bender Spectacular. We look like such angels when we're sleeping/inebriated beyond consciousness.

Happy Turkey Day, ya bastards (even you vegetarian ones)!!

2008-11-27T21:48:00.000-08:00

Greetings on this fine autumn day where we gather with family and friends, glut ourselves on a giant bird with bread stuffed up its ass, and then spend some quality time together by going into deep, deep food comas--all in the name of giving thanks to our pilgrim ancestors who braved life and limb to come to this great nation, where they proceeded to steal the land and resources from its native peoples, giving them small pox in return as a special thank you.

Well, not this broad! Irma Bumstead-Winterbottom is not down with celebrating such patriotic douchebaggery and giving in to the Hallmark Greeting Card mindwashing that gets everyone in such a tizzy about cute turkey paper plates and matching napkins, or greeting cards featuring adorable indians and pilgrims hugging and sharing some pumpkin pie. No sir!

Let me tell you what makes a good Thanksgiving: Sleeping in, watching the local Thanksgiving Day Parade on your tv (no need to go out into the cold to see that shit, especially nowadays when they usually don't even throw any candy, cheap bastards), brushing your pussies, vacuuming your rugs, and eating spicy macaroni turkey helper with a glass of some sort of boxed wine varietal whilst sitting on your couch in your sweat pants. Oh, and there was probably some gin involved somewhere in there, between the vacuuming and the cooking of the Helper meal.

I will admit that I wish DeeDee was here to share this Helper feast with me, but alas, she had to go and meet the family of her betrothed...I still can't remember his name, but he likes gin and juice so he's alright in my book.

Well, enjoy the rest of your food comas, ya bastards, and I'll be here when you wake up and find yourselves bloated and constipated and remorseful for eating that extra slice of pumpkin pie loaded with real whipped cream, even though you know you're lactose intolerant and now will be shitting through a screen for the next several hours.

Enjoy the rest of your holiday before the heart burn sets in,
xoxo,
Irma Bumstead Winterbottom,
along with Amelia Bumstead-Winterbottom & Maya Madison, Jr. Esq.

I'm a little better off than DeeDee...

2008-11-23T20:12:00.001-08:00

Kids and their crazy music these days...

2008-11-23T19:43:00.000-08:00

Dear lord and all of his chorus of angels on high!

DeeDee and I have both nearly suffered multiple seizures from watching this year's American Music Awards--so many strobe lights and lasers! Reminds me of my raver days, but that's neither here nor there...

Also, DeeDee and I are completely bewildered by the abundance of leotards, nonsensical backup dancers, and heinous wardrobe choices by Rhianna (who thought a be-dazzled pirate eye patch would really be a good idea??). And what's with all of this hype about these alleged "Jonas Brothers"? My god, they are all 10 years old with testicles that haven't even dropped yet!

I just don't know about you kids these days...what happened to decent, palatable music that made sense and touched the soul (i.e. classics like Clarence Carter's "Strokin'" and Warrant's "Cherry Pie")? Again, we just don't get it. Ergo, we are both retiring for the evening after our usual Sunday night skin-exfoliating ritual and mud masks.

God bless and please, please make good wardrobe choices. Or else we will find you. And mock you. Without mercy.

xoxo,
DeeDee & Irma

Mr. Carter, you can take my temperature any day of the week. Mmm...mmm...mmm!

A Blessed Day.

2008-11-22T21:38:00.001-08:00

Ah, I can now sleep soundly knowing that the Vatican has finally officially forgiven John Lennon for saying that The Beatles were bigger than Jesus like, 40 years ago. Whew! What a relief. Glad the Catholic faith finally got that one sorted out! What a bunch of wieners. Not all of you Cathies out there; just the ones who take decades to decide officially that Mr. Lennon's comment was merely "a 'boast' by a young man grappling with sudden fame. Get over yourselves and lighten up. That's my mantra, and I'm stickin' to it! Anywhoodle, DeeDee's out somewhere caterwauling and no doubt wreaking of gin in some Chicago alley right now. But I never worry about her--she has keen survival skills and always finds her way home. Like a cougar. I, on the other hand, am aweary of this mad, mad world and am thusly retiring to bed with my pussy.
Amelia Bumstead-Winterbottom and I wish you all a very good night and God bless us, everyone (John Lennon now included).

Kisses,
Irma B-W

Really, how can a person stay mad at such a kooky guy who literally cares about the earth?!

Ugh.

2008-11-20T23:01:00.000-08:00

Good Christ almighty.
I ate my weight in Chicago-style stuffed pizza and then I just watched the horror classic "The Fog" which scared the crap out of me and made me want to poop but I can't because I've got a cheese clog. That's all I've got for you. Yours truly has not a spot of wit left in her body so all you get is TMI updates on my bodily functions.
On that note, I wish you a good night and may the morn bring me looser bowels.
That is all.
xoxo,
Irms

Above: The culprit.
Oh, stuffed pizza. You demon in disguise as an angel. A sauce-slathered, cheesy angel. My bowels curse thee!

The Magnificent Bastards

2008-11-19T16:01:00.000-08:00

Buy this CD, you worthless ingrates.

http://cdbaby.com/cd/mbastards

It's got some fine tunes for bumpin' uglies. In all seriousness, The Magnificent Bastards creates some of the most eclectic, thought-provoking music I've heard in many a year. It's definitely one of DeeDee's Favorite Things.

Like I said: buy it, peeps!

Ooh, the cover makes me all tingly in my pants!

Noooooo!

2008-11-18T19:08:00.000-08:00

Good Christ, It's November?!?

2008-11-06T23:39:00.000-08:00

What the hell happened to October??

Hello kids. Irma Bumstead-Winterbottom reporting for blog duty following a description-defying two week Halloween bender! My mind is a kaleidoscope of fuzzy, gin soaked, sugary, multicolored memories.

Let's see: There was me in my french maid costume tossing ham chunks out my second story window to hungry trick-or-treaters below (I don't believe in all that sugary crap; why not give the kiddies something with a little substance, like PORK?). There was also DeeDee and I at that rave, blowing our whistles at the top of our lungs and making friends with an adorable group of youngsters who kindly shared their Skittles. After that, it gets real dark. I do remember brushing Amelia for about three hours straight afterwards, because I just couldn't seem to get enough of her soft, fuzzy orange fur. And apparently I voted the other day, and the guy I voted for won, so that's good. Thank god for DeeDee! I can just see her lovingly hauling my limp, bloated body over to our polling place. She's a good egg, that one.

Although I must confess to you, dear cyber readers, that I am a little shocked and concerned re: DeeDee claiming to be engaged. I'm not sure if that is simply yet another 'Tussin-induced yowl of madness bellowed into the night or if she's for serious this time. She's made several past claims that turned out to be unfounded, i.e., discovering the cure for testicular cancer, owning a small country off the coast of Finland inhabited only by midget monks, and being a Madonna backup dancer circa 1985...

Also, marriage is a big responsibility (don't I know it--wrapping up number six, thank you very much!). And a wedding is such a huge pain in the ass to plan...Mostly, though, I'm just worried that I'm losing my best drinking partner a girl could ever ask for. Then again, perhaps I am gaining another drinking partner through this most blessed of unions! A girl can dream. I haven't yet met this chap she speaks of so highly, and I do have my suspicions that he is merely a cough syrup pipe dream, but I guess time will tell, as they say. I don't know who says it, but lots of people do.

I will leave you with a few of the Halloween pictures that actually survived, as well as

Today's Daily Affirmation:

"Love and Marriage apparently go together like a horse and carriage. Sounds like a nice sentiment, right? Stipulation: No one tells you that the carriage is on fire and the horse is rabid."

Kissies,
Irms

Here's me and DeeDee's official halloween pumpkin, and next to it, the carving inspiration.

This is my little angel, Amelia, dressed as the cutest bumble bee in the world. She loves her costume. And her mommy.

Here's DeeDee's little lord of darkness, Maya. She also loves her mommy and is most certainly NOT plotting her painful demise.

(sigh of relief)

2008-11-05T16:45:00.000-08:00

Irma and I are duly pleased at the direction the US of A is taking. Betwixt our wine-fueled forays into a delicious state of unconsciousness, we are quite the politically-minded lasses. As we tottered home from our polling place yesterday, we raised our voices to the heavens, fervently crying, "Don't eff this one up, America!" You deserve some propers, country of mine.

He looks so delightfully stern, no?

Love ya,
D.

Oopsie

2008-11-02T15:04:00.000-08:00

Irma and I have been terribly remiss in our blogatorial duties. And we completely forgot to apprise you of the Halloween "situation;" namely, that we celebrate this blessed holiday for a solid two weeks by drinking various noxiously-colored cocktails and eating candy till we hork. I have no idea where Irma is right now.

Mark your calendars: we have a big, juicy show coming up in January. Your favorite alkies (that's us, you turds) will be performing with Varietease. More info to come. In the meantime, we plan on aggressively marketing ourselves to anyone who even favors us with a glance. Chicago, prepare yourself for a whoring of epic proportions!

Our life has been fairly run-of-the-mill, otherwise. No new spirit animals, our cats still hate us, I'm engaged...

So, I suppose that's it for now, my babies.

Vote,
DeeDee

I ruv you!

Midnight ramblings from a lonely and gin-soaked heart.

2008-10-15T22:22:00.000-07:00

Greetings lovers and haters and everyone in between:

Irma Bumstead-Winterbottom here, just checking in to say hello and let everyone know that I have been alive, well, and (mostly) sober since my rehab break-out a few weeks ago (I'm still wildly impressed with how that mad scheme all played out, and I have a fabulous french maid's costume for Halloween out of the deal!).

I know I have promised to regale all of you with stories of ex-husbands of days of yore, and yours truly will make good on that promise, but right now o'le Irms is nursin' a broken heart. Yes, that's right! I thought it was curtains for me 'n' love after Ernie Bumstead jilted me for his pot-bellied pig Petunia, but not so! I thought I was gettin' ready to change my last name (again) but it turns out the fellow in question is "afraid of commitment." Ladies and assholes (that's you, gentlemen), can someone give me a clue as to why this excuse comes up time and again and why men are just d-bags in general?? And by "D-Bag" I mean "total douche bag."

Oh, and if any of you know of some young buck who doesn't live at home, has all his teeth, is able to form grammatically-correct sentences, and doesn't have a problem with occassional excessive gin consumption, send him my way. Having a Ford Mustang or owning a cheese factory wouldn't hurt either...

Anywhoodle, I shall await your advice and forwarded phone numbers from potential "hotties" as you kids refer to good lookin' fellows these days.

Sigh. Well, I guess it's just me and my pussy. I ain't holdin' my breath for any Prince Charmings right now. But I would settle for Prince Brie Factory. Alright, gotta go. It's about time for Amelia 'n' me to hit the kitchen for a midnight snack of American cheese and gin. Just a nip, to help me sleep, I promise. My fingers may or may not be crossed right now.

Good night, and God bless,
Irma Bumstead-Winterbottom
with editorial assistance from my pussy, Lady Amelia Winterbottom

Today's Daily Affirmation: (partially taken from an actual quote by some other poor bastard)

"A wise girl kisses but doesn't love, listens but doesn't believe, and leaves before she is left.
She also leaves after he's bought her dinner and a sufficient amount of booze."

Since I can't watch you kids all of the time and make sure you're not goin' blind 24/7, I've enlisted the help of one Mr. Walken. He's a keeper.

An unrelated note

2008-10-10T11:03:00.000-07:00

Two posts in one day?! Can it be true? Count your blessings, assholes, 'cause it won't be happening again for a long, long time.

Anyhoodle, we have a blog friend. This is she:

http://mocklog.typepad.com/queen_mediocretia/

She's over to your right, too. I heartily recommend visiting her on a daily basis. The Queen is one saucy lady, certainly worthy of being in our esteemed company.

She gets 4 out 5 gin bottles!
Except I only have enough energy to upload one.

Love,
DeeDee

A brief word about the recent debates

2008-10-10T10:50:00.001-07:00

Even in my illness, I think of you, you greedy bastards.

You may not realize it, but Irms and I are fairly politically-minded. As responsible citizens, we try to keep abreast (teehee) of the issues of the day. The one question I have for you, dear readers, after viewing the boring-ass "town hall" debate is as follows: when did John McCain get so effing old? Mother of God, the man looked like he messed himself every time he stood up. One of the chief reasons he will not be getting my vote is that I am certain he will die after being in office approximately 4 months. I have no basis for this opinion; I have no clue what kind of health McCain is in. It is just something I feel in my bones. After his imminent death, my friends, where does that leave us?

Exactly. (Don't even get me goin' on the P-ster, although I believe she stole her 'do from Irma and I. Fraud!)

In sum, we prefer to get our McCain fix from the debates, where he merrily putters about like a confused old man about to offer you a Werther's from his pocket.

Register to vote, whoremongers!
DeeDee

"Excuse me. I can't remember where I live."

Ouchie

2008-10-09T19:06:00.000-07:00

I have an ear infection. Leave me alone. And go fuck yourself.

Cordially,
DeeDee

I'm sober and lucid and I'm not gonna take it anymore!

2008-10-01T22:12:00.000-07:00

Good Christ in his holy heaven, how time flies! And here I am, yours truly, stuck in some rehab shit hole for losers. I tell ya, I don't belong here! I mean, these people in here got real problems! I mean, let's keep in real (is that how you kids say it?): A little gin and rubbin' alcohol now and again never hurt nobody, and I consider it an insult on my personage to be lumped in with toothless crack whores and balding methheads (no offense, as many crack whores and methheads are still very nice people)!

Well, I've had it up to my panty-line (which is rather hight) and I'm not standing for it one more day! This broad is all rehabed-out, and my brilliant escape plan will just have to be carried out
"as is" so I can get outta here ASAP-ity!

Luckily, DeeDee came through with the french maid costume, and I got some spare fishin' line from a junkie whom I befriended whilst in this shit-jar of a rehab center (so, special thanks to "Glue-Lovin' Sue" on that score). The talkin' parrot we shall just have to do without.

However, thanks to my newly-acquired ability to commune with the animal world, a skill I picked up over the many hours spent in me 'n' DeeDee's makeshift living room sweat lodge, I have befriended a grey squirrel who frequents the rehab courtyard. Through bribery, such as pieces of corn bread and sunflower seeds, I have learned that his name is Mr. Buckles, he is 57 in squirrel years, he's single, loves fresh corn on the cob, and he has extensive knowledge of the rehab center sewer pipes...

I think by now, dear reader, you can put 2 and 2 together and see where this is all going. I shall say no more, as I must quickly don this maid's uniform and make a hasty escape.

So, DeeDee, if you're readin' this and not passed out with your hand down Santiago's pants and your breath reakin' of gin and 'Tussin, keep the home fires burnin,' stir the jail hooch, and tell the cats that mama's comin' home for good! Wish me luck!

Jesus, these fishnets are tight. Where's a good pair of Spanx when you really need 'em?

God speed and God bless!

xoxo,
Irma "Rehab Jailbird" Bumstead-Winterbottom

Today's Daily Affirmation:

"Never judge a book by it's cover. Or a crack whore by the number of teeth she has. She can still probably gum you to death."
(Take it from good 'ole Irms here. I should know. I actually saw this happen to a rehab employee while I was on the "inside." Not a pretty sight.)

Clay Aiken A GAY???

2008-09-26T10:18:00.000-07:00

No shit, Sherlocks.

I do believe old Irms here totally called that one in a daily affirmation from about 4 months ago. In it I made the comment that Clay Aiken was "the last person on earth to find out he is a gay." I think that statement can now be agreed upon and confirmed worldwide. Well, sorry you didn't get the shocked reaction you were probably hopin' for, Clay-ster, but good for you for comin' out of your closet. The one that had your name on it, encrusted with pink rhinestones and glitter.

Irma's next prediction: John Mayer will co-adopt a child with Clay Aiken, and it will be a match made in homo-douche bag heaven. I just wonder who would be the bottom...

Gotta run--late for my AA kickboxing class!

xoxo,
Irms

PS The above comments made regarding homosexuals and douche bags are strictly limited to Clay Aiken and John Mayer. I love the gays. I don't really like douche bags, though. But then again, nobody really does and if you got offended by this blog, that just means that you are a douche bag.
Thank you.

Misty Watercolored Memories

2008-09-25T06:37:00.000-07:00

So, Irma is still getting her rehab on. I'm glad she at least as internet access--it will be good for her to purge her psyche of these ex-hubbies. In case you're wondering (and you'd better be), I have not fallen into a self-destructive pit. Other than shnookling the cats a touch too much, I have done quite well, thank you very much. However, the ol' sweat lodge is a bit lonely with only one moist individual inside of it. Le sigh. It's hard to hold up the gin end of things, too. Dammit, Irma, get this daring escape on the road! In the spirit of reminiscence (and self-promotion), here are some photos of us you may not have seen:

Lookin' good and harassing the audience--our career goals.

A rare moment of dissent.

Aw, we can't stay angry for long.

2 cool 4 school.

We are incredibly erotic, yet tasteful.

In sum: Irma, get your granny-pantied ass back here, post haste! I'm bored, and drinking alone is losing it's appeal. (There's a sentence I never thought I'd live to say.)

Yo,
DeeDee

Shout out from Prisoner #V8469

2008-09-21T15:10:00.000-07:00

Greetings Friends.

Heh, I still am amused that my ID number has a "69" in it. But that's neither here nor there, and I must make my time here with you short, as I still am incarcerated in this damn rehab joint by these filthy pig fuckers, and I'm only allowed 10 minutes of unsupervised "play time," as they call it, per day.

My heart bleeds to know that DeeDee is drinkin' boxed wine all alone in our cold and lonely living room. Drinking boxed wine is a social sport, and should never be attempted as a solo endeavor.
I also miss my pussies, especially gettin' tipsy on cheap gin and dressing them in doll clothing for my own amusement. God, those were the golden days.

But I have faith that once I have convinced these squirrel anuses to release me, the golden times will return, DeeDee and I will be reunited, and the prison toilet hooch shall flow freely! They haven't gotten the better of 'ole Irms yet! I'm a slippery one, and in case these vile monkey turds refuse to release me, I have been formulating a brilliant plan for my escape. I won't give nothin' away, in case these turkey boners get wind of my plans. I will just tell you that it involves a talking parrot, fishing line, and a french maid costume. We'll just leave it at that.

I must say that being forced into sobriety has made me pause for reflection on my life and all of my past fuck-ups. Namely, my six ex (or soon to be ex) husbands. I would like to share with you now some of my thoughts on each one.

Starting with Ex-Husband #1: Benjamin "Benny" Wizlichtenstein.

What can I say? He was young, Jewish, and not bad to look at. And I was young and foolish and his mother liked me. The ceremony was a real humdinger (what I can remember of it), but between discovering his insatiable need to frequent "Madame Mazzobaum's Jewish Harem" and years of tax evasion, I just couldn't take it. The further discovery of a horribly botched circumcision was the nail in the coffin. Speaking of coffins, I was informed recently that Benny died in his sleep of a heart attack. It is a blessing that he didn't die alone, as he was found nestled between the twin DD's of the Sharpschizki Sisters, his favorites at the harem. Unfortunately rigor mortis had already set in, so they had to pry his head out from the bosoms. God rest his whore-mongering little Jewish soul.

Well, my "play time" is up, so I gotta run to my "Jazzercise for AA's" class. More on the husbands later. Next up: Husband #2: Vinnie "Angel Hair" Cantallone.

Today's Daily Affirmation:

I shall reiterate: "Though drinking boxed wine alone is a social faux-paux, drinking 4 or more individual bottles of assorted grape varietals by yourself is perfectly acceptable."

As I mentioned before, here are the 3 essential items needed for my brilliant "Irma busts out of rehab" escape plan. Any assistance acquiring said items will be rewarded handsomely. With gin.

This is what it's come to.

2008-09-15T18:18:00.001-07:00

I am drinking boxed wine alone, and I'm slightly toasty. No, I am not even close to fooling.

Come to me, my bitch lover!

Greetings from Patient #V8469

2008-09-15T12:41:00.000-07:00

Hello, all.
Forgive my somewhat rambling tone, as I have just recently awoken from my drug/tranquilizer-induced coma. As my dear friend, Ms. Madison, has stated in the previous blog, I was once again apprehended by some monkey fuckers in a sleek black sedan and taken to an undisclosed "rehab" center, or as I like to call it, a dry demon's butt crack. Again, forgive the vulgarity. I believe the rhino tranq has me a little bit cranky, and my neck and ass are still sore from the injection sites.

Christ, this place is boring. Dark, boring, and boozeless. And no carrier pigeons in sight to send my dear friend DeeDee a request for auxilary gin or a rescue mission. And of course I didn'thave time to grab my stash of extra gin before these filthy hamster nuts grabbed me. I guess I will just wait it out until these cheese dicks decide that I've reached a level of "stability" and can be "re-released into the wild" (their words, not mine). A bunch of cocksuckery, if you ask me! But nobody's askin' this broad nothin, and I ain't speakin'! Torture me as they may, I will never reveal the secret ingredient to me 'n' DeeDee's jail cell hooch recipe! So, bring it on, ass lobsters! Irma Winterbottom is ready for ya. Once the tranquilizer completely wears off, that is. Standing for more than a few seconds is still an issue.

Anyways, do not fret for ole' Irms, dear readers. Your's truly is a survivor, and I've been in worse scrapes than this, let me tell you! The incident involving the local police and gin-soaked, flaming panties was pretty intense. But that's neither here nor there.

I will keep you updated on my progress whenever I get a chance to use the internets in this joint, and I am sure that my friend and comrade, Ms. Madison, is right at this moment replenishing the gin and configuring a brilliant way to find me and bust me out of this dump. That, or she's passed out, face down in some young man's crotch, with the stench of 'Tussin on her breath. That's my girl.
Gotta go--they're comin' back!
Peace out,
Irma

Today's Daily Affirmation:
My patient number says "69." Heehee.

Here's one of the rhino tranquilizer darts used on your's truly. Do not fret, dear readers. Irma Winterbottom will have her revenge!

So Cold and Alone

2008-09-13T08:28:00.001-07:00

Bad news. Miss Irma Winterbottom has been forced into yet another rehab stay. They brought out the big guns this time, too. However, I am glad to say that Irms led them on quite the merry chase. Whooping and hollering, inciting them to "ream their own whore mothers," she capered about our block in her usual nimble-footed way. Even shooting her with a rhino tranquilizer couldn't stop my girl. Finally, those bastards busted out the tear gas. Whilst Irma was disoriented, they waylaid her and firmly bound her hand and foot. She was loaded into a sleek black sedan, dart dangling from her neck, cursing them with words the like of which I have never heard fall from her lips. I regret that I was unable to catch the plate number of the sedan, as some tear gas blew in my face, and I was fairly intoxicated at the time. I am certain that Irma has some secret store of gin hidden in or about her person, so I rest assured knowing she has the upper hand in this lamentable situation.

Do not shed a tear for us, o kind readers. My newest lover, Santiago, will keep me warm while Irma plots her escape. If I know Irms (and I do), she will be back in the alcoholic bosom of safety by the end of the week. In the meantime, I will work diligently on my cross stitching and ass-getting.

Keep it real,
DeeDee

If you see this car, slash its tires post-haste!

Long time, no ME!

2008-09-01T18:48:00.000-07:00

Greetings to all ya bastards in cyberland!

Irma B-W here, reporting for blog duty. My apologies to anyone who has given a rat's ass over the fact that I've been MIA in blog-land for a while. I have been taking a lot of time for myself, for contemplation and reflection, within the confines of my living room sweat lodge.

I've also been busy communing with my spirit animal guides, some more helpful than others. For example, Ike my trumpeter swan thinks that I should move forward with the divorce proceedings, stay strong, and stay open to the greater plans the universe has lined up for me. Kinda hokey, but ok. Then there's Candy my titmouse, who thinks we should go to Ernie's house in the middle of the night, duct tape him to a wall, and take turns with a steel bat. Tempting, but illegal. Maybe next time, Candy. And then there's good 'ole Baxter, my golden spider monkey, with his usual suggestion of flinging one's own feces at anything or anyone that gets in one's way. Real helpful, Bax.

Nonetheless, your old pal Irms has emerged from the sweat lodge, like a caterpillar fetus from the cocoon, ready to face the world. And I really needed to shave my legs. So, I will rejoin DeeDee in our search for life's truth, the world's answers, and the cheapest gin in the city.
You missed me, didn't ya?
XO,
Irma

Here's the magazine that inspired us to make our own homemade sweatlodge. I didn't use any of the survival techniques that the magazine suggested. I was mostly just interested in more pictures of this well-sculpted mountain man and information on his relationship status.

Today's Daily Affirmation (good lord I missed doin' these):

"The Answer, my friends, is definitely NOT blowin' in the wind. Believe you me, I've looked. I live in the "Windy City," and all the wind has brought me is chapped cheeks, loose plastic bags, and the relentless stench of raw sewage. So, take your tone-deaf folk song and stick it up your beatnik ass, Bob Dylan!"

Odds and Ends

2008-08-27T15:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, we got a hit on the ol' blog from Malaysia. Yes. I am serious. Did you know that Malaysia is one of the top exporters of palm oil? And rubber?

So thank you, international friend. You have brought diversity into our lives.

Also, this is my new favorite thing in the world:

Peace out,
D.

Exclusive! DeeDee's New Job

2008-08-25T18:48:00.000-07:00

Hello, my babies. I have decided to give you a sneaky peek into my new day job. A gal's gotta keep herself in gin somehow.

First up, my coworkers:This is Pepito, my supervisor. He is strict yet fair and I already view him as a father figure.

Next up is Vincenzo, the receptionist. He baked me some "welcome" cookies. I love him already.

Me-yow. I have no idea who this is. He occasionally makes appearances in the office and all I know is, Mama likey. (Although I cannot afford another sexual harassment suit.)

Onto the environs. The lunchroom:
I am thusly pleased. You know how I like to sweat my cares away!

The crapper:

Finally, a place worthy of accepting my waste.

My work area:
Hm. Still needs a few of those "homey touches," I guess. I do like drinking in a room where the carpet already makes me feel toasted, however.

Well, that's it for now, muchachos. I must complete my daily meditation and then drink wine out of a box.

Yours truly,
DeeDee

Mama's baby is FAMOUS

2008-08-20T16:57:00.000-07:00

Oh my Christ, I could not be more proud:

That's right, bitches: Maya is on STUFF ON MY CAT! Finally, my dream of exploiting my cat has come to fruition. See my little sugarplum in all her glory here: http://www.stuffonmycat.com/index.php?itemid=11195 I have a feeling things are going to get very "Mommie Dearest" up in here (cue shifty eyes).

I must away. My vast, doughy midsection demands sustenance.
DeeDee

Recognize, motherfuckas!

2008-08-19T20:14:00.000-07:00

This humble blog is up to over 1,000 hits! I realize that easily half of them are me, but that does not dampen my enthusiasm a whit.

Also, my deepest apologies for the lack of posting. I fear that, once again, our exfoliation schedule has gotten the better of us. Damn my desire for satiny smooth skin! DAMN IT TO HELL!

Currently, I am full of Mexican food (as per usual) and two delicious, sneakily strong mojitos. I probably don't even need to say it, but I am so very bloated.

Expect a full update this week. Until then, you are cordially invited to suck my left one. (Toe, that is.) Preview: A movie! A famous cat! Cheese!

Your pal,
Dee to the Dee

PS: We need some comments, yo. Only nice ones, though. We are delicate fleurs.

This video made me lactate

2008-08-06T06:57:00.000-07:00

Basically, this gives me faith in the world. And not much does. Aside from, you know, alcohol. Christ. When did I become such a softie? I'd better go punch some babies to get my edge back.

Kisses,
DeeDee

A day with my pussy

2008-08-05T14:08:00.000-07:00

Greetings all you crazy cats out there in cyber-land:

Speaking of cats, I took the day off from my various odd jobs and charities today to spend time with my little ball of kitty-dumpling love, Amelia. She is struggling to understand the reasons behind me and Ernies impending divorce. So, today we had a "girls day" where we slept in late, ate ice cream in bed, drank too much gin before noon, and watched consecutive episodes of the "Steve Wilkos Show" together...

Ok, I guess it was pretty much what a normal day off looks like for me, just with a little more cat nip and "Whisker-Lickins" cat treats involved as bribery. I think shes gonna pull through though, without too much emotional scarring or the need for years of extensive kitty psychotherapy. Lord knows mama doesnt have the money for that! Sometimes I barely have enough of the benjamins left over for her kibble! Maybe DeeDee is right: Perhaps I should cut back to just one bottle of gin per week...I will think it over. My pussies happiness is definitely worth such a large personal sacrifice, I think.

In other news, DeeDee birthed her burrito baby successfully and she is in the ICU as we speak, recovering from the labor quite beautifully (aka passed out half-naked on her bed, my guess is from taking too much 'Tussin and then just forgetting to finish dressing herself). But she looks like such an angel, even when she sleeps with her eyes open and drools from one side of her mouth.

Lastly, keep your eyes peeled for some new additions to our blog, comin real soon. I wont give away too much, but lets just say, it will give you an exclusive, first-hand, insiders look into the real lives of the DeeDee and Irma that you think you know! Stay tuned!

Peace out,
Irma B-W

PS: My apologies for this blog lacking any apostrophes, but my computer is being a whore and I am neither techno-saavy nor patient enough to fix the problem. Sorry for anyone who is offended by the lack of grammatical accuracy, but I could personally give two shits about it.

PPS: Today (apostrophe) s Daily Affirmation:

"Just because you eat off the same plate, poop in the same place, and dress alike, it does NOT mean that you are what society likes to call a "crazy cat lady."

And you know who you are! Yes, I am talking to YOU! Do NOT let the man get you down! You can poop wherever you goddamn want to, thank you very much!

Fathers, lock up your sons (or attractive daughters)

2008-08-01T16:06:00.000-07:00

Oh my God, I just ate a gigantic burrito. uuuuhhhh. Not the best way of beating the heat, perhaps, but I like it. Irma is sweating like a horse after winning some sort of derby. I'm beginning to think it's a glandular problem. Whereas I merely glow, Irms devolves into a sopping beast of a woman. She maintains that it's a pituitary issue. And that some men find it quite sexy and alluring. Take that as you will.

It's Friday night, which means Irma and I will be hitting the gin and tucking ourselves in with Proust. That rascal. Of course, this will all happen after I birth my burrito baby. Why do I do this to myself? Why, sweet Jesus, why?! I know: because it is delicious. Case closed.

I'd best leave you, as the gin is starting to take effect. Glorious.

Daily Affirmation:
"Better out than in. The end."

Spank you very much,
DeeDee and Irma

Our Friday night may include one or all of the following:

Love Stinks, but Friendship is Sweet. This is a gay title for a blog entry.

2008-07-30T12:25:00.000-07:00

Greetings friends, lovers, haters, and those of you that go in the "Misc" category.

Christ, what a mad couple of days it's been! And so humid! I can't go five minutes without a clean pair of Hanes Her Ways gettin' soppin' wet and havin' to go and change into yet another pair! I tell ya, I think I'm gonna just veto all summer panty-wearin' until further notice. But that is neither here nor there...

Well, let's start this blog off with a fun little powder keg: After much deliberation (I like that work because Tyra always uses it at the end of every "Top Model" episode before they axe another one of those skinny whores), I have finally decided to go ahead with the divorce proceedings with 6th husband, Ernie Bumstead.

"But Irma, why are you divorcing him now?" you may inquire.

Well, I'll tell ya: I just got the news from our lawyers that Ernie recently re-wrote his entire will and is leaving 95% of his fortune to Petunia, his DAMN POT BELLIED PIG! Yes, it's true! Now, when I first heard the news, DeeDee had to restrain me and then when that didn't work, she had to hit me over the head with a gin bottle and then tranq me and let me sleep it off--she's a good friend. And luckily it was an empty gin bottle, so no gin was wasted while rendering me unconscious.

So, bottom line is: Watch out, fellas (maybe ladies, too)--I am back on the market and lookin' for the lucky #7! Ha-cha! I am, however, going to keep the last name of "Bumstead," at least for now, for the sake of the kids. The kids bein' my pussycat, Amelia, as I know how traumatic the divorce is going to be for her.

And in case you're wonderin', that 5% that Ernie's leavin' to me is his soda bottle collection that he's had since he was twelve and his old hemorrhoid donut. Asshole.

On a lighter note, DeeDee and I had a blast this weekend (of what we can remember) at the "Hot Mess" Caburlesque show in Madison, WI. It was a great show, and the audience was amazing--thank you, Madison. Leg humps for all of you.
I am sad to report that I never got to meet the apparently reclusive and enigmatic Rocky Rococo, the Wisconsin homo pizza maker of note. I did, however, have a slice of his meat pizza, and it was quite stellar (those gays always know how to make good sausage).

DeeDee and I did have a little bit of an creativity-related altercation during our second act, but we worked out our differences and only suffered minor bone breakage and internal bleeding. And we're still BFF's, which I think is the most important thing of all. Who else is gonna exfoliate my back??

That reminds me of today's daily affirmation, a quote from one of my favorite flamers, Oscar Wilde:

"A true friend stabs you in the front." Or in DeeDee's case, kicks you in the teeth. She's vicious when she's been hittin' the 'Tussin, I tell ya!

Kisses and hugs and leg humps for all,
Irma

A Quick Taste of our Weekend

2008-07-29T08:55:00.000-07:00

As you can see, it was very eventful. Irma is nursing a few broken ribs, and I may have ruptured my spleen. More after we've healed.

Viva Wisconsin!

2008-07-25T10:49:00.001-07:00

Hello friends--
This has got to be a short post, as DeeDee and I are about to begin our journey to Madison, Wisconsin, a promised land of cows, various and sundry cheeses, and a flamingly gay pizza maker by the name of "Rocky Roccoco." I have packed enough gin to kill a small horse infected with ringworm, so I think I should be able to cope with bein' in a strange place. I'm also anxious, as there is the possibility of an unexpected run-in with my soon-to-be-ex-6th husband, Ernie Bumstead, and that homewrecker of a porker, his potbellied pig Petunia. So, send your old pal Irms some good vibes and some wishes for long and pleasant spells of drunkenness. I'm not too worried about DeeDee--she'll be busy visiting distant relatives and probably gettin' laid by the entire Wisconsin football team. That's my girl!
Kisses,
Irma B-W

Below is an image of the flamer Rococo himself. I cannot wait to meet this famous Wisconsin gay, and eat some of his supposedly delicious pizza.

So much show, so little time

2008-07-24T13:50:00.000-07:00

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Irma and I have been busy little bees preparing for our show this weekend. I've been occupied with hot gluing approximately 100 sequins onto my underthings, resulting in many first-degree burns and ill-wishes for the glue gun. Irma's been in the sweat lodge since Wednesday evening, supposedly searching for new act ideas. If she's not out in an hour, I'm goin in. Well, I must go ice my seared fingers.

Peace out,
DeeDee

Sleep with one eye open, you bastard.

Sob.

2008-07-22T13:39:00.000-07:00

I can barely form a coherent sentence right now. Estelle Getty has... passed away. She was a ray of sunshine that was far too good for this world. There should be a special heaven just for her! (If you think I'm kidding about this, I will stab you in the stomach.)

Oh my God, I love her so much.

Affirmation o'the day, my brethren

2008-07-21T18:17:00.000-07:00

Experiencing a burning sensation while you pee is not proof of God's special love for you...much to my dismay.

Fo shizzle,
DeeDee

Come and see us, shitheads

2008-07-20T20:06:00.000-07:00

Live! One night only! A special appearance by Irma Bumstead-Winterbottom and DeeDee Madison, esq!

What: Hot Mess, a burlesque extravaganza
When: Saturday July 26, 8pm
Where: The Majestic Theatre, 115 King St, Madison, WI
Cost: a paltry $10 for an evening of ass-shakin' and pasty-shakin'...and booze!
Why: Because you love us and our hot bodies
If you still need more convincing, you ingrate: http://www.dane101.com/arts/2008/07/16/madison_prepares_for_a_hot_mess

Not an actual photo of DeeDee or Irma. Pervert.

Catch-up, catch-up, mustard

2008-07-20T19:47:00.000-07:00

Well, your favorite little social butterflies have been all a-flutter of late. In addition to Irma shaving her pussy...cat for the summer, we shall offer some highlights:

1. We have been approached by a purveyor of quality audio books with a request for our luting voices to be committed to tape. How did we get this, you may ask? It just so happens that this gent was on a constitutional while we happened to be on the beach, reading aloud from "The Vicar's Daughter." One thing led to another, and we now have a lucrative contract to read romance novels aloud. (The sexy parts are our favorites.)

2. Charlotte and Maximilian are currently joined in wedded bliss and have done the nasty many a time. We especially enjoyed the bit where they consummated their union whilst Charlotte was dressed as a pageboy.

3. Yours truly (Miss DeeDee Madison, esq) has a new employment opportunity! I don't want to give too much away, but I get to spend an awful lot of time with well-muscled Croatian men who don't speak a lick of English. Hot-cha!

4. Irma (who is sitting by my side as we speak) has recovered nicely from her rehab ordeal. She is proudly back to her old record of being sober for 2.5 out of every 24 hours. She is entertaining the idea of starting an Old-Timey Hooch bottling plant in our basement. I like her moxie!

5. To date, Irms has made 11 homemade potpourri sachets out of old nylons and various nibs and nobs she has found about the house. Her successes include: mixed berries (with Craisins) and Tums, a scented pantiliner and orange rind, lavender and gin, and my favorite, 'tussin and Old Spice. That gal has a gift.

In general, we have both been keeping busy with our Buddhist studies, yoga and jazzercise. In addition, our spirit animals are doing quite well and are pleased with our progress.

Namaste,
DeeDee and Irma

"A frothy Regency romp"

2008-07-13T11:11:00.000-07:00

I have recently returned from another fantastic hosiery-sponsored event. I don't want to bore you with the details, but I learned many new uses for pantyhose, including but not limited to: filling one leg of a pair with doorknobs and using it to beat someone senseless (you use the other leg for leverage), straining homemade preserves or especially chunky sauces (or prison hooch), and buying a queen-sized pair to sausage-like encase your entire body in (just for shits).

Irma and I just purchased a new tome for our nightly read-aloud sessions (Irma can't sleep unless I read to her): The Vicar's Daughter, by one Miss Deborah Simmons. To give you a little taste of the excitement we're in for, here's the first paragraph in all its delectable glory:

"Wycliffe often said that had he known what awaited him that fateful day, he would never have entered the vicarage. Of course, everyone knew he was lying, and since Maximilian Alistair Wentworth Fortescue, Fifth Earl of Wycliffe, never lied, his statement was all the more astounding. But then everyone was astonished by what happened. . . ."

I cannot wait till the dirty parts.

Love you like a sister,
DeeDee

PS Today's Daily Affirmation:

2008-07-10T20:38:00.000-07:00

Good lord, maybe the gin is really starting to eat away at my cranium! How could I forget the most important part of the blog: the daily affirmation!?

Ok, so here goes:

"That which does not kill us, makes us horribly maimed and unpleasant to look at for the rest of our lives."

Sleep well and God bless.

Bust out the gin, kids, cuz Mama's home!

2008-07-10T19:30:00.000-07:00

Hah! Rehab my ass! They tried every intervention and detox tactic in the book, but in the end, they all just scratched their heads, agreed they'd never seen anyone with so much gin in their blood, and decided to load me up in a windowless van and drop me off at my front door. All I can say is, Amy Winehouse ain't got nothin' on your old pal Irma! And it's true: I've found that I actually can speak fluent Greek (ancient and modern) and juggle up to five flaming hoops and/or tennis balls whilst under the influence of certain mixtures of gin and household cleaners! But that is neither here nor there. The important thing is that I'm back at home, safe and sound and unscathed by society's attempts to curb my "vices," or as I like to call them, "coping mechanisms."

In a twist of ironic fate, when I awoke from the sedative they gave me before my journey home, I was met with a familiar-looking carrier pigeon bearing a scroll around its neck. Indeed, it was from my beloved DeeDee, saying that she wanted to be at my bedside when I awoke, but regretfully had to take the opportunity to go on a last-minute two day Spanx/Hanes-sponsored retreat. However, her postscript did mention a lovely vintage of jail wine awaiting me in the bathroom toilet. And I must say, DeeDee has once again outdone herself in the craft of home brewing!

I don't want to bore any of you with the sordid details of my detox experience, which I really cannot recall anyways, but no doubt when DeeDee returns from her seminar on the latest in household uses for old nylons and girdles, with our powers once again combined, we shall be the sassiest and most blog-tastic force to be reckoned with! In the meantime, I am going to lay low and take it easy, as I am still getting used to being conscious for more than 4 hours at a time and I have many, many episodes of the Steve Wilkos show to catch up on and many, many week-old pastries to consume.

God Bless,
Irma Bumstead-Winterbottom.

Here's our toilet, currently filled with DeeDee's delicious house-made hooch! I'm not sure I will be able to control myself, and I cannot promise there will be any delicious libations left for her when she returns home. Sorry, D!

My dark incantations have yielded results!

2008-07-06T08:14:00.000-07:00

Thank you, sweet Infant Christ! Today, a carrier pigeon came a-tapping at my window. He bore a note from none other than my beloved Irma. In it, she briefly states that she should be home within the next couple of days. (It looks to have been written in her own blood. Very resourceful.) I can't say for sure, but I'm willing to bet that there's a daring escape plan involving a nun's habit and pyrotechnics. I must begin stockpiling all manner of booze for her arrival. I've already begun a batch of her especial favorite, Old Timey Prison Wine. You ferment it in a toilet!

Godspeed, sweet Irma.

Not a carrier pigeon, but awesome nonetheless.

Wherein I cannot function alone

2008-07-05T11:13:00.000-07:00

Still no word from my little rehablet, the erstwhile Irma. She's quite adept at training pigeons to carry her messages hither and yon, so I am a bit concerned.

I have not fared well in her absence. In honor of the 4th, I consumed 9.5 Firework popsicles. I am pissing the flag over here. In addition, I have subsided solely on a steady diet of french fries, Leinenkugel's, and Danielle Steele. (We may branch out to V.C. Andrews today.) I now realize that Irma provided my only source of dietary restriction, what with the slapping of my face and all.

sigh. Christ, I miss that bitch. Return to us soon, Irms!

Exciting Times

2008-07-01T07:55:00.000-07:00

Well. It appears that one Miss DeeDee Madison is going to be on her own this week as her bosom pal Irma is, shall we say, incapacitated.

Let me explain: we were embarking on our usual Monday night activities of yoga, bathtub moonshine-making and Buddhist study when Irma suffered a serious fall while doing downward facing dog. We scooted to the hospital as a dislocated hip is not something Buddhism can heal. While undergoing routine tests, the doc noticed that Irma's pupils were unusually dilated. He ordered a full blood panel, which showed dangerously high levels of alcohol and drain cleaner in her system. Now, none of this was news to me. Irma regularly cuts her moonshine with a combination of baby oil and Ajax. She claims that it adds much-needed bite. Long story short, the doctor completely overreacted and ordered Irma to a week-long rehab stay/detoxification. He also restrained her, as she was getting "violent." However, I think calling him a "one-nut monkey-fucker" was entirely appropriate and true. As the medicopter spirited her away (I think to Colorado), I could only wonder who was going to help me exfoliate my back.

Fear not, gentle readers. If I know her (and I do--since we were wee babes), this stint is nothing more than a bump in the long, alcoholic road of life. By now, she's probably managed to shatter her false molar filled with an emergency shot of gin, so all will be well.

I am left alone to force my desperate affections on two unwilling cats.

Yours most cordially,
DeeDee

Our adorable pussies!

2008-06-28T17:51:00.000-07:00

Here are a few special moments captured on film, from our home to yours. Join Amelia and Maya as they enjoy their new summer apparel, namely a "crab" hat and a sassy li'l sailor top.

Greetings Gaylords and Ladies!

2008-06-28T17:25:00.001-07:00

Greetings friends and lovers:

Irma Bumstead-Winterbottom here, just takin' a breather from my evening yoga/ jazzercize/meditation hour, during which time my animal spirit guides, Ike the Trumpeter Swan and Candy the Titmouse have been imparting to me the sagest of advice: eat more brie, imbibe more wine, and remember to do my monthly self-breast exam.

At this very moment, my good friend DeeDee Madison and I are following some of this good advice by heavy wine consumption. DeeDee has a good leg up on me already, as I had to work late, making extra-studded and bedazzled assless chaps for the Gay Pride Parade tomorrow. What can I say? I'm a giver, and we like to help those in need, whether it be in the form of a can of soup, a tasty sandwich, or assless leatherwear. But I digress...

On a side note, DeeDee hopes that the mass quantities of wine will aid in flushing out her ghastly UTI that she's been battling. In the meantime, she is taking horse-sized pills to combat said ailment and is hoping that the "color-changing sweat, pees, and poops" side effects will actually happen for her. I must admit, that sounds like a good night to me, and I wouldn't be adverse to some fuschia-colored doodie to liven up the evening! Like the loyal and loving friend that I am, I have pledged to DeeDee that I shall aid her in the scrubbing of her multi-hued underthings should this situation arise. And I shall use my "delicate" bags that DeeDee mocks me so much for, even though they really are useful or lacy panties and sequined bras those sorts of naughty undergarments that us sassy gals like to don now and again...or every day. But again, that is neither here nor there.

On the same note, DeeDee has been gettin' quite a lot of action lately (DeeDee would like to interject that she's just tryin' to bring home the bacon). I am hoping that my reward for hearing all of her coital yowling will be wheels upon wheels of brie. Only time will tell. I shall keep you posted...

That is all.

Have a super-gay-tastic weekend!

This is some of my finest work from years past. Enjoy, ya homos!

Where?!

2008-06-28T16:53:00.000-07:00

This is quite possibly the funniest thing I've ever seen. I laughed so hard, I needed a puff off the trusty inhaler.

A Possible Career Path?

2008-06-19T10:17:00.000-07:00

Your old friend DeeDee is in the midst of a career transition. For the life of me, I am not sure what direction I want to take in this little life of mine. I have tried to brainstorm various possibilities for myself. They are as follows:

1. Telephone operator.
You can do this job in your pajamas, right?
2. Soup chef, preferably for Progresso.
I do like soup.
3. American Apparel model.
I have almost nailed that look of ennui combined with mild irritation and a touch of arousal.
4. Life coach.
I know a variety of ways to tell people what a failure and disappointment they are.

That is about as far as I got. If anyone has a suggestion, please let me know. My only stipulations are that I only work 3 hours a day and am able to eat Wheat Thins at my discretion while working.

God bless,
DeeDee

You'll Never Take Me Alive!

2008-06-16T20:55:00.000-07:00

Well, well, well. Guess who it is? Your old pal, Irma Bumstead-Winterbottom.

Thought I was a goner, didn't ya? DIDN'T YA?? Well, you were wrong, ya faithless bastards!

Not even a colon cleanse gone wrong or the discovery of painful anal polyps can stop this inimitable, "can-do" gal who's gonna take over the world and make ya love her while doin' it!

But seriously, my deepest apologies for being MIA for so very, very long. Rest assured that I have missed and prayed for the damned souls of each and every one of you. No doubt you have been beside yourself, worrying and wondering, "where is that sassy Irma character?" or "how can I go on without that sexy Ms. Bumstead-Winterbottom?!" Well friends, as I mentioned earlier, I have been otherwise engaged with various and sundry serious social and health matters. You see, after that wild weekend with Gladys at the Arts and Crafts Convention a few weeks back--which lead to bloating due to eating 12 chili cheese dogs in 2 hours time--I decided I needed to check my clogged self into a colon cleansing facility to exercise and release the evil demons deep within my bowels.

Then there was the polyp scare, and I had to take a med-flight to a specialty clinic/spa in the middle of some godforsaken Arizona desert where I was subjected to the most unpleasant of probings and fell into a delirious fever-like state where I decided, once and for all, to fire Baxter. In case you don't remember, Baxter is my (useless!) golden monkey spirit guide. However, mere seconds later, I was graced with the presence of not one, but TWO glorious new spirit guides: Ike the Trumpeter Swan and Candy the Tufted Titmouse. My Spidey-Senses are tingling and telling me that these are gonna be winners, just like when I pick my lucky Bingo Cards every-other Wednesday night. But that is neither here nor there...

Here is (l to r): Ike the Trumpeter Swan, establishing dominance over his bitches'n'hos (his words, not mine); Candy the Tufted Titmouse, beating the shit out of a man-cardinal who was tryin' to get fresh with her. My spirit guides don't mess around.

The point is, yours truly has returned home, safe, sound, and anal-polyp free! I feel like a new woman, ready to embrace life and go out and buy a new girdle like there's no tomorrow! I returned home to a very concerned (and inebriated) DeeDee who claims that drinking a litre of gin a day was merely to calm her raw nerves from fretting so much over well being. Luckily, she is in much better health and it sounds like her jury duty will be coming to an end fairly soon. I also returned home to find that she has been advertising my availability to several random gents, including one most ridiculous southern gentleman by the name of Buford JohnHenry JacksonFord III. Yeah, like that will happen. I would rather have my vagina hermetically sealed than date a man with more first names than brain cells. Let's just put it this way: He's still convinced that the South should have won. Not a good sign. Although he does have all of his own teeth...

Anyways, this career-oriented, success-driven working gal has bigger fish to fry, including an all-night sweater-knitting lock-in for mentally and emotionally disturbed teens. Something tells me that a cable knit sweater isn't gonna be the answer to their teen angst. Oh, how I remember those days when DeeDee and I would have sleepovers, listen to The Cure, apply black Wet'N'Wild to our toenails, and knit our own black sweaters with gold lame pentagrams on them. Oh, to be young again...

Well, tonight it's just me, Ike, Candy, and a bottle of cheap wine. DeeDee has outdone herself once again and is currently in a 'Tussin/Gin-induced slumber, snoring away on the floor and no doubt dreaming of Pip the spirit vole, tortilla chips, dancing bottles of gin, and brightly-colored Spanx.
Perhaps I will shave my pussy for the summer.
Not that one, ya perverts! I meant my kitty cat, who has a very thick coat of fur. My god, get your minds out of the gutter! I should probably trim the pubes though, too.

In light of my current brushes with mortality, here's today's Daily Affirmation:

"'That which does not kill us makes us stronger' is something only suckers say. We're all gonna die someday, dumbass."

And here's a bonus Daily Affirmation, to make up for our current slackery in this area:

"Asking for your loved ones' CD and DVD collections after they tell you they're dying is in very poor taste. Even if you were planning on taking them anyways."

Well, this is Irma Bumstead-Winterbottom and Carlo Rossi Pinot Gris signing off.
Sleep tight and check the bed for ticks and suspect, unexplainable stains.
XOXO 4-Ever,
Irma B-W, Esq.

My most heartfelt apologies

2008-06-13T15:22:00.001-07:00

Things have been rather tumultuous lately in the Madison/Bumstead-Winterbottom household. Hence, the lack of posting. Which I know you were all looking forward to like the slavering beasts you are. Animals. Posting will resume when we pick up the pieces of our shattered personal and/or professional lives.

Thank you, and good night.

Love your colon

2008-06-04T17:22:00.000-07:00

Saints preserve us. It was a long and lonely weekend for one Miss DeeDee Madison, Esq. Irma was out of town for a week-long colonic cleanse (she's only just returned and is still recovering), and Pip refused to appear and offer support. Without her best friend and animal spirit guide, what's a girl to do? The answer: drink alone. And I did. Oh, how I did. I like to think the quart of gin I imbibed knocked out the last of this illness that has been plaguing me. However, I now may have to follow Irma's lead and take part in an intense GI irrigation. I am strangely at peace with this.

Clean me!

In other news, I have noticed an unsettling number of pregnant ladies in the Chicagoland area. Am I finally losing my tenuous grip on reality? Are my nightmares manifesting themselves into physical existence? All I have to say is: preggos, stay outta my way! As God as my witness, I will service you with a fearsome haymaker to the belly if you get any of your baby/fertility cooties on or about my person. Don't test me.

I just consumed a large amount of tiramisu. It was delicious.

Love to you and yours,
The Deedster

Pass the DayQuil

2008-05-28T17:07:00.000-07:00

Oh, Jesus. Jury duty has landed me flat on my ass, I tell ya that much. The heavy responsibility of of determining an individual's culpability has given my immune system quite the knock and I have been bedridden for the past two days, consumptive and gaunt. I am only beginning to regain my former rosy glow of health. It is a long, slow road.

An artist's rendering of my sickbed.

I am just tickled pink that Irma decided to get me a small get well gift from the Home Arts & Crafts Fair. Never before have I seen a needle-point rendering of the Last Supper, but now my life is complete. That Irm--truly a peach.

This post will be woefully short, as I must get back to sipping clear broths to rally my strength. Just wanted to let you bastards know that I'm still alive, so there's no need to start pillaging my room. Thank you.

Weak, yet strangely sexual, kisses,
DeeDee

Happy Memorial Day, ya bastards!

2008-05-26T14:53:00.001-07:00

Greetings to all of you out there in cyberland!

I hope you have been enjoying this long holiday weekend, spending quality time with your loved ones, which inevitably leads to family feuds, bloating, and fisticuffs. At least, that's how we do it in the Winterbottom family, let me tell you! It's been another busy weekend, what with my dear friend Ethel in town for the International Needlepoint and Home Arts & Crafts Fair. Which, inevitably leads to heavy gin consumption, bloating, and fisticuffs. Boy, that Ethel has a mean left hook.

In other news, DeeDee's arduous jury duty responsibilities have rendered her immobile and ill. This could also be due to the large quantities of 'Tussin she's consumed over the past 48 hours...But really, who's to say?? Ethel decided to stay another night at our swingin' babe palace, and she's very keen to try the make-shift living room sweat lodge. So I will keep you all posted on what epiphanies and spirit animals spring forth from the sweaty loins of our lodge!

On that note, I shall leave you with this little nugget of wisdom in honor of Memorial Day:

"Tennyson eloquently noted that it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. I say that losing love is a sure sign of a careless and irresponsible individual who should have all weekly allowance and ice cream privileges revoked until further notice . "

PPS: Check us out!

2008-05-22T09:51:00.000-07:00

Thanks to the new technologies of "the internets," you can now watch a clip of Irma Bumstead (nee Winterbottom) and DeeDee Madison in action! The video is located to the right of the blog, right under the fetching portrait of the two of us.
Enjoy, ya bastards!

Oh Christ, I'm lonely.

2008-05-22T09:07:00.000-07:00

Greetings and salutations from the sweat lodge of one Irma Bumstead (nee Winterbottom):

You know, it's a real pain in the ass to type both of those long last names out every time yours truly introduces herself, but I gotta be honest with all of you out there in cyberland (as you kids call it): I think I am still in love with my 6th husband, Ernie Bumstead. I am hoping in my heart of hearts that he and I are truly made for one another and that the day that Petunia, his beloved potbellied pig, dies and is transformed into bacon strips, we shall once again be reunited in a cloud of hearts and cupids and singing flowers!

Oh Christ, all that mush hurt my cold, cold soul. I gotta take a quick break, smoke a Virg Slim, and maybe poop.

Alright, I'm back. I had a good smoke, but wasn't able to poop at this time (in case you were wonderin', and if you are wonderin', that kinda makes ya a pervert). So, as you can probably tell, the Irm-ster isn't doin' so hot these days. Aside from losin' Ernie, my ma's been on my ass about not comin' to visit her to rub her feet every god-damned week, and she thinks that I talk too much about gas and other such GI-related events. What do you think, you kids out there in cyberland? Operators are standin' by...And ma, if you're readin' this, I will be over tomorrow with the Ben Gay and the Epsom salts, so don't get your panties in a twist!

Also, it doesn't help that my compatriate, one DeeDee Madison, has been called away for jury duty, which she says is, and I quote: "lametardedly ricoculous (sp?)!" This is when being an alcoholic comes in real handy, as she simply downs a bottle of 'Tussin (or NyQuil, dependin' on what product we've got coupons for that given week) right before she goes to the courthouse, and she's good ta go for the next 6-8 hours. She also reports that there's more than one fetching gent on the jury with her that she'd like to introduce me to. DeeDee's not a big Ernie fan, and I know she's just tryin' ta cheer me up, so I should probably get her some sort of gift to say "thank you for bein' a friend" just like those Golden Girls say. Those sassy old broads. I can only hope to have their good looks and sex-drive when I reach their ripe old ages. Perhaps I'll make my own potpourri sachet for DeeDee...

In the meantime, here's today's Daily Affirmation:

"Clay Aiken, you are the last person in the world to find out that you are a gay."

That is all.

PS:

Here's a candid photo of Petunia. The filthy home wrecker. You can't live forever, though, you filthy porker!

You remind me of the boy

2008-05-18T08:59:00.000-07:00

Now, some of our readership will be familiar with the cinematic brilliance that is "The Labyrinth." As for Irma and I, it is one of our favorite films (followed closely by anything involving fart jokes). Whilst pondering life's mysteries one night, we began to wonder what happened to the titular boy, Toby the annoying baby:

Not an attractive child by any means. (By the by, I cannot take credit for the whimsical caption in this photo.) Irms and I were curious to see how the wee lad had turned out: aka, if he was still a homely beast. Behold!

He looks like a charming, apple-cheeked English chap who might call you "mum." Delightful! Adding to our glee is the fact that he is a rather accomplished puppeteer. Way to go, Tobester. Way to go.

Peace in the Middle East,
DeeDee

Over the moon for The Oprah.

2008-05-16T07:57:00.000-07:00

Good Christ! DeeDee and yours truly are watching Oprah from our makeshift living room sweat lodge and are not only amazed, but slightly appalled, by how nutz-o this audience is for this mere mortal woman! I am certain that not even our lord and savior Jesus Christ would receive such a crazed reception! My god, they're nearly killing one another for a sip of Oprah's pomegranate daquiri!!! To this nonsensical behavior I must now use that new phrase you kids use these days: "WTF?"

But that's neither here nor there. I would like to report that I was able to rouse myself from my self-induced intoxicated state last evening in order to enjoy GI-tearing Mexican food with my dear friend DeeDee. She did not even have to punch me in my vag, as she has in so many days of yore. Though I resented her for it at the time, I realize now that she had my best interest at heart and probably saved my life. She does like to punch vag a lot though, too. Even when I've not mixed 'Tussin, bourbon, absinthe, and my prescription drugs. But again, this is neither here nor there.

I must go now. The Maury Povich show is on and it's time for DeeDee and I to continue with our sweating ritual, which always concludes with a delightful "Jazzercise" workout.

Today's Daily Affirmation shall be told through imagery, carefully selected from my personal"My Chicago" photo album. So, to that end I say:

"Oprah, stop living in a fantasy-land where everything is made of cookies and chocolate. You gotta keep it real like me and DeeDee do:

So, here we have a picture from my garden, an image from our last strip poker party, and a promo shot for Luciana "Mama" Fortuna's Midnight Abortion Clinic. Yeah, drink a daquiri to that, Oprah!

Too much sexy!

2008-05-15T16:35:00.000-07:00

Hello, titsters.

DeeDee reporting for duty. I am in dire need of a burrito, but my compadre Irma appears to be in a mild coma on the couch. If I've told her once, I've told her a thousand times: no mixing 'tussin, absinthe, and Zoloft! It only leads to heartache (or heart failure)! I'll wait approximately 10 minutes before slapping her vigorously across the face while simultaneously punching her cha cha. You laugh, but it's saved many a life.

Today's affirmation is straight from the lips of Pip:

"Water retention, while somewhat of a hindrance, lets you know you're truly alive!"

Oh, Pip. Such a sage.

My GI trembles in anticipation.

Welcome to our sweat lodge of sin!

2008-05-14T09:38:00.000-07:00

Greetings kats and kittens:

DeeDee and Irma here, writing to you from our makeshift living-room sweat lodge where we are busy purging our bodies of the various and sundry impurities, including but not limited to: gin, cheap whiskey, sodiums, saturated fats, 'Tussin, expensive whiskey, poop, 'Tussin, and residual guilt. It's been a busy day, to say the least! DeeDee's spirit animal, Pip the vole, has instructed her to continue on her tortilla chip diet. I am personally leery of this Pip character and think that he may be leading DeeDee astray merely because he enjoys tortilla chips himself. However, I have discovered my very own lovable spirit animal: A golden marmoset named Baxter, who strangely enough, speaks in a british accent and oft-times offers me homemade scones. As I said, I am a bit leery of these spirit animal guides and their true intentions...

In other news, DeeDee has been busy screaming at our television set, as she was displeased with the paternity test outcome on Maury Povich (aka the "Mo Po"). She is, however, quite a smart cookie when it comes to "Who Wants to Be A Millionaire," although she has vowed that, should she ever be an audience member on the show, she would offer the contestants the wrong answer purely out of spite. That's my bitch!

Today's Daily Affirmation:

"A feeding tube is not a viable option for procuring nutrition, no matter how easy and appealing it may be. Take the extra time to chew, ya lazy bastards!"

DeeDee and Irma out!

The first candid photo of Baxter, my beloved spirit guide.

Word to our Mothers!

2008-05-11T18:56:00.000-07:00

Greetings friends, lovers, and mothers:

Today is indeed the blessed holiday known as Mother's Day, where frenzied gas-station floral bouquets and cheesy, overpriced Hallmark cards abound. DeeDee and I are both very lucky to have two of the best 'ma's in the world, especially because they hate all of that kind of bullcrap, saving all of us our dignity and some money. They even support our dirty mouths, sinful lifestyles, and 'Tussin addictions. Actually, come to think of it, they seem to find it all rather amusing. Not sure what that says about them. But how can you not love two sassy gals who can't stay away from cut-throat Bingo games, All-You-Can-Eat buffets, and craft shows. Not to mention their daughters' shows. Those are some good mothers right there. So, hugs and kisses to you, Ma Madison and Ma Winterbottom! We love you and you can rest assured that we shall be doing (another) shot of 'Tussin in your honor! Hope we're makin' ya proud!

In other news, DeeDee and I sadly did not make it to our show at Spin last night, as both of us were suffering from some sort of GI upset. I swear we really need to get tested for parasites. If we have 'em, DeeDee and I have decided to name them "Cid" and "Caesar" the tapeworms. Hey, when life gives ya lemons, you give your parasites names.

Well, I gotta go finish my rigorous bedtime regime, which consists of a sand-based, three-step exfoliation system, my heated aromatherapy wrap, and clipping my toenails. I am also going to try DeeDee's sweat lodge regime, in hopes of finding my own spirit animal to guide me through my emotionally traumatic separation from my sixth husband Ernie and my bouts of diarrhea (not necessarily related)...
I feel as though I have relayed too much of the personals, so I will end on this amusing note: DeeDee is currently passed out on the living room floor, her cat licking her palms for salt.
Happy Mothers Day, ya bastards! Here's our ma's. We can only hope to be as good-lookin'
and well-preserved when we reach their age.
Eat your hearts out, ya bastards.

Oh, and of course, don't think I would forget today's daily affirmation:

"The family that stays together usually results in 40-year-old, basement dwelling, socially inept virgins and/or the bodies of horribly mutilated family members being found buried in the backyard after only the youngest son is seen residing in the family home and a suspicious smell begins to fill the neighborhood.

Feliz Three Days after Cinco de Mayo

2008-05-08T10:54:00.000-07:00

Jesus Lord, I thought we were outta the woods. But how could I forget--Cinco de Mayo! You know what that means: an obscene amount of tequila and burrito-like materials for yours truly. In other words, our deepest apologies for not posting. Irma has been on the crapper for 18 of the past 24 hours. Those enchiladas do not agree with her GI, believe you me. As for me, I now have a tattoo of the Mexican flag on my left bosom. I'm looking into laser removal forthwith.

Let's see, a brief summary of what you've missed: Irma is still mourning the loss of her 6th hubby, Ernie (that lousy fuckhole), and has taken up Bedazzling. Every surface in our home is now a-glitter with every variety of stone and gem imaginable. She is still on the lookout for a perfect Mr. Right, someone who has all his teeth and no fear of intimacies (aka gettin it on with the sexies).

As for me, I've been feeling rather fatty-bo-ba-latty as of late. My new workout regime involves a vigorous full-body scrub with sea salt and lye, followed by an hour in a sweat lodge. Whilst sweating away the pounds, I have had time to meditate and find my spirt animal, which is apparently a talking vole named Pip. So far, he has only told me to eat more tortilla chips. Bastard.

On to today's affirmation:

As much as you love gin n' juice, it is not part of a balanced breakfast. Beeyotch.

A friend always,
DeeDee and Irma

Pip, the thieving spirit-vole

Where am I?!

2008-05-05T19:46:00.000-07:00

Sweet Jesus and all of His angels. I have just regained consciousness after a 3 day bender. Poor Irma is still immobile. Affirmation-posting will resume tomorrow, after plenty of vitamins and fluids. In the meantime:

What the holy fuck is this? And why is it $36?

My liver weeps

2008-05-02T16:08:00.000-07:00

Hello, lovelies.

Another weekend is upon us, and I am more excited than a rosy-cheeked schoolgirl. Irma and I are getting a visit from mutual friends, and I expect to be in a drunken coma by approximately 10pm. (Probably before.) Also, I may misplace my panties. There are no rules on this, our evening of hedonism! Not that we ever abide by societal norms, but who's counting?

Hold my calls,
DeeDee

I think this is what my soul looks like:

"My Chicago" --images from our world.

2008-05-01T19:59:00.000-07:00

Greetings all:
Irma Winterbottom here. I have oft been told that I have quite the eye for all things fetching. Thusly, I have decided to grace all of you with some images from my everyday life. This shall be the first installment of pictures, with many more little gems to follow. So, without further ado, welcome to our world. May these images bring you joy and inspiration; and if they don't, may they bring you irritated bowels.

A listing of picture titles, followed by the pictures, all done by the artist (aka yours truly):
1.) "Pissed off squirrel on a roof"
2.) "Same damn pissed off squirrel, now in a tree"
3.) "Creepy ice cream man"
4.) "Caught red handed: Creepy ice cream man visits Catholic school"
5.) "Empty and alone: The day after a night with a 40"
6.) "Back alley propaganda: You give rats a bad name"
7.) "Thug whale on a dumpsta"
8.) "Looks like it was a good night!"
9.) "Political vandalism #1"
10.) "View from my garden #1"
11.) "View from my garden #2"
12.) "Vibrant litter"
13.) "The happy li'l recycler"
14.) "Here's a good idea: don't litter, ya bastard!"

Happy May Day...where's my basket of flowers, ya bastards??

2008-05-01T19:37:00.000-07:00

Greetings friends and lovers:

Appologies for leavin' ya hangin' lately--both DeeDee and I are very busy and important ladies, what with all of our cross-stitchin' circles to attend, grocery shopping for cat treats and replacement spanx, and workin' the 9-5's to bring home the bacon...

Speakin' of bacon, it brings me great sadness to let you all know that Ernie (husband number six) and I have officially taken the long, hard road to Splits-ville. The fact that he chose his pot-bellied pig, Petunia, over me was the real deal-breaker. So soon I shall be shedding my married name of Bumstead and returning to my given name of Winterbottom. As I've said, you'd think I would've gotten it right by number six, but c'est la vie. Perhaps husband number seven (wherever you are, you lucky man you) will be more successful. Or maybe I'll just become one of those lesbians--the gays seem to have much more fun and own more fabulous wardrobes anyways. But for now, I shall choose solitude, spending long and lonely nights cocooned into my couch with Titanic, gin, unshorn legs, and a box of tissues. And there may or may not be more than one carton of Haagen-Daaz involved. What?? Don't judge me, ya bastards...But if any of ya know of any good-lookin' guys who aren't hung up on their pets and have all their own teeth, pass me their number.

On the bright side, DeeDee has been gettin' some lately, so I guess that makes her the reigning slut of the family. Hopefully the 'Tussin hasn't clouded her memory and she can actually remember the sex (let alone the guys' names). She does always seem to find her way home though, which is a good sign.

Keep your eyes open: DeeDee and I are cookin' up a hot new number for our next performance, which will be here in Chicago on May 10th at Spin nightclub. Should be a good time, as the gays also know how to throw a good party.

Christ, I think there's a storm comin'--I can feel it in my joints. Time for more Vicodin. Please excuse me.

On that note, today's daily affirmation (since it is May Day. Or for all of you naked, orgy-lovin' Pagans, Beltain):

"April Showers might bring May Flowers, but it also brings hayfever, creepy ice cream vendors, and inappropriate bearing of the midriff." A-goo!

Good night, sweet phone

2008-04-27T08:44:00.000-07:00

Lord, what a weekend. A word to the wise: cheap Canadian whiskey and tap shoes do not mix. Trust.

In other news, my supremely technologically advanced cell phone has broken. After perhaps its fiftieth trip to the ground, it decided it was no longer for this world. Not willing to be thwarted, I decided to try and fix my beloved phone with a wee dablet of super glue. Well. The super glue exploded, coating the upper half of the phone, my hair, and left arm with its evil innards. Needless to say, I am still picking super glue chunks out of my 'do.

Thusly, today's affirmation:

Never let a gnome make the sexies in your hair. It only leads to heartache.

Bros before hos,
DeeDee

PS: I am thinking of writing a highly erotic story entitled "The Naughty Milkmaid." More later...

Hello, compadres

2008-04-24T13:40:00.000-07:00

The next vista in our blogging life stretches glimmeringly before us--I have just transferred posts from our MySpace blog to this, our fancy-pants new blog. You can view all the posts below. Godspeed.

Air kisses,
DeeDee and Irma

Creepo

2008-04-24T13:36:00.003-07:00

Here is something that makes me quite uncomfortable, and not much does, mind you:

Irma and I live very close to a virtuous grade school. (The fact that I once publicly urinated on its playground has nothing to do with this description.) Several middle-aged, Mexican ice cream vendors are quite fond of our 'hood. Now, I have nothing against the Mexicans, having had several as paramours and enjoying their people's food immensely. But I digress. Said ice cream vendors seem to think it boosts sales to stand outside of the playground when school lets out, peddling their wares. This is what it looks like to the casual passer-by: a middle-aged gent with a cart staring intensely at a playground teeming with children.

I suppose that got the old wheels a-turnin', and resulted in today's affirmation:

If you are an ice cream man, try to avoid looking like a pedophile as it may hurt business.

Stay cool,
DeeDee

PS: I have several mysterious bruises on my person. Whence from? Only the Lord and my last lover knows for sure.

Good Christ, what a weekend!

2008-04-24T13:36:00.001-07:00

Greetings kats and kittens--
Irma Bumstead (nee Winterbottom) here, just now rousing from my 4-day hangover coma. In a previous blog, I had mentioned my dear friend Gladys coming for a visit, and all I can say is: that "Girls Gone Wild" program ain't got nothin' on this dame! Now, I always knew Gladys was a party girl, but ever since she and hubby 3 split last month, she's been out of control! Get this: she even crochetted matching halter top dresses to wear for our Friday night outing! I was a bit skeptical at first, but now I must say that the dresses were quite fetching. Okay, so here's a quick run-down of my girls' night out with crazy Gladys:

7:00pm--Gladys arrives and whips out the matching halter top dresses. We put on our faces and prepare for the escapades of the night.

8:30pm--Harrassed on the train by a man only known to us as "Porky"; Gladys knees him right in his family jewels and we run.

8:31pm--I find myself out of breath and prefering a "Porky" assault over more running. Exercise is for wieners.

9:05pm--We reach our first destination: Trixie's Peach Parlour. DeeDee is already drunk off 'Tussin; Gladys and I find ourselves some nice sugar daddies to buy us drinks for the remainder of our stay at Trixie's (hey, we're just usin' the goods that God gave us).

10:32pm--We stumble to our next destination, Margueritas As Big As Your Head, where we order 6 rounds of Sangria and 3 orders of the 5-pound nacho platter (15 pounds of nacho goodness total for yours truly).

10:33pm - 11:30pm--Gladys and I take turns making multiple trips to the bathroom, as we both forgot to bring our Beano.

11:35pm--A fellow with all of his teeth offers me some of his Gas-X and we head to the dance floor for some of the "bump and grinds" as I believe you kids refer to it. DeeDee is now "resting" under a nearby table, snoring away the night.

11:37pm--The man introduces himself as "Jimmy Jim-Bob" and I make a swift exit, trailed by a half-naked Gladys and an incapacitated DeeDee.

12:20am--We stumble back to our sweet bachelorette pad for some Philips flavored cigars and some Strawberry Boones Farm.

3:33am--We assist each other with our monthly self-breast exams. Don't judge--it's important to keep the cancers at bay at all times!

4:04am--We crack open the third jug of Carlo Rossi. This is about the last thing I remember until I finally awoke this morning.

So, needless to say, it was a good weekend. But boy am I payin' for it now!
Well, I must go and take an Epsom salt bath to scrub away the booze, sins, and salsa stains from my body.
Smell ya later, losers!
xoxo,
Irma

PS I think my blog for today is in itself a daily affirmation: Live the Vida Loca, but lose the crocheted halter top dresses. They only lead to trouble, gas, and guys named Jimmy Jim-Bob.

Hurray for us!

2008-04-24T13:35:00.003-07:00

Guess what, bastards? We have a total of 103 hits on the blog of yours truly. Hot damn! Someone's busting out the 'tussin tonight! (Hint: it's me.) I'd give each and every one of you a hand job if I could. Or if I was a whore. Which I'm not. But that is neither here nor there. Today's affirmation:

Using a vibrator (a clean one, sickos) to blend a nutritionally balanced smoothie is frowned upon by society, even if it is remarkably time-saving.

Peace out,
DeeDee

TGIF, ya bastards!

2008-04-24T13:35:00.001-07:00

Oh, thank Christ it's Friday! What a grueling week. My jazzercize class last night was the nail in the coffin; God, I'm tired.
Anyways, a busy and productive weekend is no doubt upon DeeDee and I, as our good friend Gladys is coming into town for a little visit. This will no doubt lead to a lively crochet circle, a mean game of Scrabble (too bad swear words don't count), and public drunkeness which may lead to the inevitable: public nudity.
In other news, DeeDee purchased an individual-size cup of Wasabi peas, for which she is very pleased. I broke in our new rice cooker with a top-secret family caserole recipe my ma gave me which is very tasty. Gives me gas like the Dickens, though. Not like DeeDee and soy products, however. We won't talk about that, as the experience is still too traumatic for words to express...
Well, that's about all I've got for now. I think I'm going to go shop for a new pair of Spanx, as my current pair have seen much better days.

In the meantime, here's today's daily affirmation:

If the Hokey Pokey is really and truly what it's all about for you, douse yourself in gasoline and light a match immediately.

Have a good weekend, ya bastards, and don't do anything I wouldn't do. So pretty much anything goes.

Just another day off for DeeDee and Irma

2008-04-24T13:34:00.004-07:00

Greetings all:
Well, nothin' much to report here. DeeDee is on a day trip with her newest beau--can't for the life of me remember this one's name. I'm not sure DeeDee does either, as she's been hittin' the 'Tussin pretty hard this week. But he seems like a decent enough fellow, as far as men go. As for me, I'm pretty sure I'm going to eventually sew up my vagina, join some sort of nunnery, and take an eternal vow of celibacy. But in the meantime (since Ernie and I are on the outs, which equals none of the sexies for yours truly!) I have been filling my evenings with reading and writing some of my very own erotic fiction! Perhaps I shall one day be brave enough to post some on our website. The first story involves scuba diving and what happens when dolphin-watching goes wrong. Quite a thrilla! Well, I must be off to run some errands and still have time to make it to my jazzercize class, possibly followed by Haagen-Daaz and more "Titanic." Life is good.

And, in the same vein, here is today's daily affirmation:

There are only two kinds of people in this world: Those that masturbate, and those that lie and say that they don't.
Also, to those people who threaten hairy palms, blindness, and God's wrath as a result of masturbatory pleasure, I say to them:
"You, my friend, are the sole cause of scabies, nuclear war, and one too many Celine Dion albums, thank you very much."

Live and Learn

2008-04-24T13:34:00.003-07:00

Hello, my brethern.

Today's affirmation is a personal favorite, one that I feel everyone can learn a little something from:

Never date a man with 2 first names, such as Billy Bob. It always ends badly. (As in, social services may show up at your door.)

In other news, I am particularly fond of Honey Maid graham crackers.

Ante up, bitches--it's tax day!

2008-04-24T13:34:00.001-07:00

Greetings friends and lovers:

It's been a few days since DeeDee or I have had a chance to "blog" (as you young kids say these days), but that's because we WORK--unlike most of you lazy bastards out there! We both have been workin' extra hard to make the money so we can bring home the kibble to our most beloved of cats, Maya and Amelia.

And on that note, I would just like to say: Amelia is neither retarded nor the victim of a brutal ugly stick beating, by the by. That's just the 'Tussin talkin'--DeeDee really loves my little fuzzy Lady Amelia.

But back to our busy, successful, career-oriented lives. Most exciting is the fantastical performance we were able to give this past weekend at a charming little nook in Chicago called Spin (the gays really seem to like it, so if you're a fudge-packer or a carpet-muncher, this club's for you!). Anyways, I digress...

Well, words do not really encapsulate the glory of our stage triumph. I will let the pictures in our photo album speak for themselves, but I will say this: God Bless Marky Mark and his "Funky" Bunch--they are an inspiration to us all, especially us white people who really have no rhythm or the ability to drop our pants quickly in public.

Well, I guess that's all you're gettin' for now. DeeDee's off to work to watch cat brothers hump eachother (perhaps we'll add that picture to our album just for kicks), and I have an important date with my couch, my exfoliator brush, and my stories (love that Steve Wilkos--bald really is the new beautiful).

Oh, and today's daily inspiration, which fits nicely with the fact that today is tax day:

Just remember: G's up, ho's down; Dolla' dolla' billz, y'all; It's all about the Benjamins, bi-atches.

Peace out,
Irms

The Adventure of Lady Amelia and the Easter Grass

2008-04-24T13:33:00.003-07:00

Well, I figure we’ve been taunting you long enough. Below is the saga of Amelia (the orange pussy) and her encounter with Easter grass.

For Easter, my sainted mother was kind enough to prepare 2 lovely Easter baskets, one for yours truly (DeeDee) and another for my current beau. (More on that scamp later.) These baskets contained various candies, gifts, and Easter grass. You know what it looks like: those bright green cellophane shreds that are a pain in the rear to get off the carpet? But I digress.

Irma’s cat, Amelia, is borderline retarded (she is more inbred than your Kentucky uncle) and therefore tries to eat everything, especially any plant life. Or anything that vaguely resembles plant life. Hence, she decided to make a little snacky of the Easter grass.

We all know how this turns out. One day as I was completing my full-body exfoliation ritual, I noticed a distintly doody-ish smell in our humble abode. Knowing Amelia has a penchant for not being terribly thorough or cleanly in matters of the litterbox (remember: that cat was beat with the stupid stick real hard), I went to her first. Picture it: a fluffy orange cat heiney. At least 2 inches of neon green Easter grass is protruding from the poo-hole. And attached to the grass, are two perfectly formed turds.

I’ll give you a moment to let that horror process.

I was able to subdue her long enough to remove the dingleberries, but alas, the grass was tenacious. Amelia had run to her master’s bed (Irma’s), hoping to gain some refuge. I, however, was determined to remove the rectally-minded grass. If there is one thing DeeDee Madison is, it’s an animal lover! I restrained Miss Amelia, and carefully (tenderly) pulled out the green demon. Victory! Amelia looked suitably flustered and perturbed, while I was merely amazed at the sheer length of the grass. I sadly did not measure it as it was covered in certain materials, but there must have been at least 3 inches of cellophane inside that cat. I at least had the presence of mind to document my harrowing experience. (photos coming soon!)

Upon reflection, Irma and I have decided that this was for Amelia’s own good. How else is one to learn a valuable lesson, unless it is by a large piece of Easter grass lodged in your anus?

Blargh

2008-04-24T13:33:00.001-07:00

Oh, my aching body. I am just getting over this plague-like illness, and believe you me, I am the worst for wear. My voice is gone, and I therefore resemble a British schoolboy going through puberty when I attempt to speak. This means I am unable to rehearse my soaring arias, much to Irma’s dismay. However, not all is rainy and dismal: I now have to opportunity to guzzle as much ’tussin as humanly possible, without society’s harsh judgement! See, society? I’m SICK so the ’tussin is being used to procure wellness, not to attain a pleasantly numb and consequence-free high.

Anyhoodle, Irma is out of town for the next few days so I’m kickin it by my lonesome. I plan on eating an obscene amount of tortilla chips and watching the tv until my eyeballs become parched and crackly. Here is today’s affirmation for you, my sweets:

"Cross-stitching your loved one’s likeness is not a suitable Christmas gift."

And I speak from experience there. Smell ya later, assholes!

Christ, break out the Tussin!

2008-04-24T13:32:00.000-07:00

Hello, cats and kittens:

Poor DeeDee and I are layin’ low today, as we are both feelin’ "under the weather" and are taking this opportunity to pump our bodies full of cough syrup and the like. Yours truly is also nursing a bit of a hangover--yes, it’s true, this girl still has some life left in her. I’m not dead, ya know! Last night was my Monday Night Ladies Crosstitching Circle (I am making a fetching unicorn pillow for DeeDee’s ma) and let’s just say, things get a little crazy when Eunice brings her flask of Everclear!
Anyways, that’s neither here nor there.
DeeDee and I are nonetheless gearing up for our upcoming burlesque performance this Saturday, April 12th (which will no doubt go late and spill into early Sunday morn) at Spin, which is a fine little nightclub in the heart of Chicago. The gays seem to really like it, which is always a good sign to me!
Well, I must go and pop some more Excedrin and limber up for our next rehearsal. I should also check on DeeDee, as I think she may have taken one too many nips from the ole Tussin bottle.

And as always, here’s today’s little nugget of affirmation and wisdom from both DeeDee and myself. Eat it up, ya bastards. It’s scientifically proven to make ya live longer. Ha. Not really. Anyways, this one’s a personal lesson that I think all of you can learn and grow from:

"Never steal from your host’s medicine cabinet during a dinner party. Unless, of course, you know that you can get away with it."

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph what a weekend!

2008-04-24T13:31:00.002-07:00

My goodness, my dogs are barkin’! Yours truly has been on her feet all weekend, and I’ll be darned if she can’t find a young, well-oiled mediterranean man to rub them for a while. Is that too much to ask?? Anyways, I gotta make the money so I can bring home the kibble for my darling cats. In other news, DeeDee finally got some action this weekend, but it just about killed her and I may need to check on her periodically to make sure she’s still breathin.’ Christ I’m lonely. I’m gonna go smoke a pack of Virginia Slims and eat some American cheese. Then I’ll probably poop.

And here’s this weekend’s daily affirmation, kids:
"Thowin’ your hands all up in the air like ya just don’t care" is all well and good. But be sure to stretch appropriately beforehand or you may pull something.

Sleep tight, ya bastards.

Thank you sweet Lord, it is Friday

2008-04-24T13:31:00.001-07:00

Appropriate message for a bris:

Congratulations on getting the tip of your penis chopped off.

Irma and I are thinking of going into the greeting card business. So you’d better not steal this little gem, you ungrateful bastards!

Happy "Day After Hump Day," ya bastards!

2008-04-24T13:30:00.002-07:00

So, despite the fact that I (Irma) am sick (physically; I already knew about the mental part and I am heavily medicated for that ailment already, thank you very much), I am accompanying my dear friend DeeDee Madison to the beauty parlor, for she is in search of a new ’do. We will also be in the market for girdles, spanx, and coordinating track suits so we can get in shape in style. For we are styling ladies, if but for nothing else. That is all.

And, Today’s Daily Affirmation:

Never say this to anyone: "You’re adopted, and no one loves you."
Unless, of course, it’s true.

Today's Inspiration

2008-04-24T13:30:00.001-07:00

Today’s tidbit concerns entertaining etiquette:

Using someone’s litterbox to urinate is not a polite way of saying you enjoyed the meal. Pooping in their litterbox, however, is perfectly acceptable.

Thank you very much.

April Fool's Day, ya bastards!

2008-04-24T13:29:00.003-07:00

Hello all.
Irma Bumstead (nee Winterbottom) here, with today’s daily affirmation:

Bathing your wang in Listerine is NOT dependable prevention of the clap.

On that note, I gotta poop.

Have a great f’ing April First, you crazy bastards.

Yours,
Irma

Oh Christ, not again

2008-04-24T13:29:00.001-07:00

Hello again friends. Irma Bumstead here...Well, I am sad to say that I may very well NOT be Mrs. Bumstead for very much longer. You’d think after number six you’d get it right, but Ernie (my 6th and current hubby) and I have agreed to an indefinite separation period to hopefully work out our differences. I’m tryin’ to look at the bright sides of this situation, and topping the list is that I won’t have to share the bed with his damned pot-bellied pig, Petunia. God, I hate that little porker!
So, I shall keep you posted on my love life, or lack thereof, and if you have any comments or suggestions on how to make a man love you (since we all know that shavin’ your anus isn’t one of them), please send ’em to me at deedeeandirma@hotmail.com. Operators are standin’ by...

Important Announcement

2008-04-24T13:28:00.001-07:00

DeeDee here. Irma is out, replenishing her supply of pork chitterlings. I just thought you all should know the official title of this here blog: "Daily Affirmations (Shaving Your Anus Won’t Make Him Love You)." If you steal that title, I swear to God I’ll shank you. We’re going to try to post a little nugget of joy every day, if our busy, cosmopolitan lifestyles allow, of course. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must exfoliate.

Yours forever,
DeeDee

Oh, God, my abdomen is so distended.

2008-04-24T13:27:00.000-07:00

Just thought you should know, DeeDee and I ate our weight in fried fish and chips today. We visited the Duke of Perth, where we gorged ourselves on their "all you can eat" Wednesday deal. DeeDee ate so much she began drooling at the table and needed her inhaler--which of course she forgot to bring with her. I was also having a hard time breathing properly and walking in a straight line.
That is all.
Thank you, and God bless.
--DeeDee and Irma

Our first foray into technology!

2008-04-23T13:17:00.000-07:00

Hello gang!

DeeDee Madison and Irma Bumstead here, pleased to be communicating through this marvel only called "the internets." Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this shit is great!
We hope that through the said "internets" we can impart some of our daily thoughts, wisdoms, and affirmations to you, the public.
We are also available for birthdays, bar mitzvahs, company gatherings, or any event at which you would like to insult and/or humiliate a loved one.
Check back soon and often!

Love and all that shit,
xoxo,
Yours forever,
DeeDee and Irma