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And here I thought Wendy Williams was a poor man's Tyra Banks...
Also: how can I change it so I'm not commenting using the royal we (Sassmouth Sisters)? And I don't want directions...I want you or Jo to fix it for me while I have a Popsicle on the porch (Dad said I could).

Damn if you didn't come roaring out of the gate! Wow.

I would be honored to facilitate the to-the-curb kickening. And I'll buy you a Frappucino after.

you will buy be a liquorcino.

Dammit, FrappuCCino.

And Bridget, all you have to do is don't comment from being signed in to the blog. Go to it like you're just reading it, and where you enter your information, use your first name and then the blog address.

dammit! buy ME a LIQUORCCINO. sigh.


You are *awesomely* badass :) Congratulations on the baby-having *and* the to-the-curb-kickening.

Joanna, could you call up Jean Olsen and dictate those directions to her and have her laminate them and mail them to me?

I...think I am in love.


thanks for making me spit coffee on myself first thing. tiz a pizonous tale...

ms ladymoist! great to have you here!

I heart this post. All the bits of it.

bitch, pleez. ain't nowhere else i rather be.

This blog is the most exciting thing to happen on my computer in awhile. I look forward to your posts.

Oy. Love the fact that you called him an asswipe, when he couldn't even do that. Isn't that just the grossest? ick.
What a fuckwad. I'm sorry you have to cope with this, but so glad you are outta there!

Helloooooo Gretchen! Your badassed-ness moves me to comment, yet leaves me more or less speechless... Wow.

Good gracious, are those parenting classes the worst? We had to go for several hours for two days, and the guy running it lectured us on how we need to just try harder to stay married. Congrats on getting through yours without losing your water.

I lost my water about four hours later. It may have been the class, and it may have been the Baconator I ate on the way home since five margaritas and a pack of Virginia Slims wasn't allowed.

I used to read Mamadeus and always wondered what happened next. Sorry to hear that it didn't go so well, but glad to hear you roar....welcome back to blogland!

Another Mamadeus reader here. Egads...I'm sorry for your troubles. Truly. If I knew your POSH I'd slap the crap out of him. And then call my hubby's 300-pound Cousin Joey the Mobster (for realz) and ask him to finish the job. I swore I'd never owe Joey anything...but this might be worth it.

Anyhoo. Welcome back to blogland! I can't wait to read the sassafrass you and your sisters cook up!

Peery sisters gots the moxie. Fuck that fucking fucker.

Good lord. I was all, "Gretchen had another baby?" when I should've been, "Gretchen got a dee-vorce?" (former Mamadeus reader here, too.)

In Arkansas, where I reside, you can't be divorced AT ALL if you're preggers. So good (???) thing you found out when you were crowning. :)

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Read This, Fool

  • the modernity ward
    Jo's old blog! Chock full of comedy, ruthless honesty, bullshit, and cooters. Lots of cooters.