¡Feliz Víspera del Dia de los Muertos!

Believe you me, I sure wish I were posting more. I am swamped and behind in my schoolwork, but the countdown is on. I am less than 5 weeks away from being done with everything, but my apprentice teaching, mashed potatoes willing on the Real Analysis class. I had to skip two homeworks and Real classes to stay afloat in another of my classes this week, which is like borrowing from the US government to pay back China. My success is about as assured as the Billions-Dollar Bailout.

Halloween is my de facto double anniversary. The first Mr. Bee and I had a marriage debacle on that day some 15 years ago and then it was the quaint connecting meeting of the former future Mr. Bee and I in our respective drag costumes that led to the current debacle we call marriage without a wedding. It's a jam-packed day of festivities and obligations and I have no business waking up from falling asleep with my Baby Bees while reading and readingFudge-a-Mania to be online, but I was hungry and just scarfed down two bare veggie weiners and here I am with that moment to spare.

Today is the last day I have to early vote, so I gots to get my vote on and check out that League of Women Voters Guide for a brush-up on the local candidates or else it's mindless straight ticket voting and that introduces the potential for .002% error in my day. Don't go fact-checking me on that number, please, or I'll say you associate with members of the PLO. Just know I love you and I miss you and if you meet me at the fountain at 2, we can cop a couple quick feels.

Be spooky and neighborly and don't steal any melanine-fortified chocolate coins manufactured in China that Canadian Terrorists have likely given your kids, or you might regret it like I regretted all the pumpkins (approx. 4) I so innocently carved over the years....

P.S. On a side note, as an afterthought, how's about all that $2.29/gal. gas? That should stimulate our lagging global warming right fine.


[ Find Your Polling Place | Voting Info For Your State | Know Your Voting Rights | Report Voting Problems ]


¡Thank You, TexBetsy!

A friendly neighborhood witch stopped by and left me a little present, my blogroll in html form. I don't know how she did it, but it's a pre-Christmas miracle!

¡Blogrooolllllll please!


Two For The Price of One: My Work is Done Here, But I'm Still Not Leaving

I am hardly worthy by now, 30 years later, from back in the day when Al Gore was just inventing the internets, to receive these here gifts the Lord Sexy Jesus de Allende hath bestowed upon me by way of the hands of his loyal sex and fashion slaves, Utah Savage y La Belette Rouge. But, Lard workeths in mysterious ways to say that those who are chosen are chosen "Without virtue of merit or intelligence." -John 4:20.

So, I will gladly receive these, the offerings of my blogharvests despite the fact that Brad Pitt refuses to legally marry Angelina Jolie until gay marriage is legal. Oh, the sacrifices we artists make in the name of sexitude. So, without further adoo-doo, I will present myself firstly with an award Utah Savage gave to me back on, my gosh, September 10th. Snaggletooth, an Iron Man salute, please...

I hereby awardeth this honorary award to my favorite of the beloved Vixens for Jesus... Liberality.

Utah and I go back really far. We were both Mistresses in the Royale Court of L'Ennui, when poetesses were punished with the evil pleasures of the flesh and denied the prestige of wearing those tight bodice dealies. I recall it was on a TGIF of yore when, despite the warnings of the great Emperor of Rootabaga, Utah slipped me this award like a reverse thief in the night...

With equivalent stealthitude, I wish to pass this award onto The Best Potato Whisperer this side of the Hidden Valley, The Lass.

In another incarnation Utah Savage and I were girly girls. Arnold Schwartenegger chastised us like little girwwls about our girwwly ways, one of which being our propensity to tie pink ribbons on anything and everything we could get our hands on. To this day we have a collective aversion to pink that is so strong Barbies cower in our presences. I applaud Utah's commitment to over-compensate for her anti-pink bias of yore by way of this award. I am not sure I am as evolved as you are, Utah, but as long as were not tying them onto olde oak trees or wearing them as teeny weeny yellow polka-dot 'kinis, I think I'll manage to love me some pink bowage again before this life is through...

One woman comes to mind when I think of Überstacity. I mean what could be more amazing than MILFestiness? So, before she slaps me with a restraining order, I hearby pass on this pretty award to my favorite stalkee Übermilf.

Finally, and oh so fashionably so, La Belette Rouge hath verified that my work here in the blogomosphere is done. She says that I make "pathos funny." I try. In fact, I only realized when she wrote those endearing words that this is what I have been striving for all my life. Now, I feel like I have arrived. I am having a good hair day and this. What more could a girwwl want? The graphic for this award is so lovely...

I wish to pass it on to a lady after my own heart, a woman who joins me in flipping the bird to fashion while at the same time being a trendsetter of grand (breast) proportions, DCup.

Well then, my work is done here, but I'm still not leaving. I have hardly posted all week and I just have to tell you a little doozy of tale as to why I should win the ÜberGoober award. (And, oh baby, I am so gonna make a graphic.) While I should have been studying yesterday, I was in Facebook and opened a chat window with my Mom who I saw was also there. Now, if you are my friend there, you know that my mom is Übermul@#$5y in her own right, and young at that and recently separated and getting divorced after 35 years of being married to my step-father. She seems pretty happy about it all, to tell you the truth though. She got herself a condo on the beach and informed me yesterday that she's started a single's site. She asked me to log on, make a profile and tell her what I thought of the whole thing. Why would my mom do such a thing? Well, as you may have noticed by now, I tend to tell it like it is and I actually feel honored that she would ask me, though I am not so into this sort of site.

Recently, I joined in on a lesbian, bi-sexual, questioning group that my university facilitates through its counseling center. I fall into the middle category undoubtedly, but one of my biggest issues has been, how does my lesbian half fit into my heterosexually shackin'-up mom life. I figured I'd try to gain some clarity there.

One of my largest mental hurdles has been whether or not to say anything of this sort to my mother. She has, from afar, seen my very nearly queer lifestyle in many of the choices and living arrangements I have actually revealed to her over the years, but it is primarily because of her and my step-father I have avoided sharing my blog with anyone and everyone in the neighborhood.

Anyway, to make a long post longer, I signed into this site she created and put myself as a woman seeking a woman (which I am not, seeking that is... at the moment.) I felt a litle queasy about it all night and she did send me a message back today saying that she liked my profile, that some of my answers cracked her up and uh... that's all. I think I first started writing because I felt so awkward actually talking to my mom that I preferred to say things to paper knowing that I could control which of those pages I could allow her to see by putting it there and then deciding if I wanted her to see it or not.

Did I just come out to my mom? Does she think I was joking? I don't really want to say anything more about it to her, but to let it sit a bit. This is why I am an ÜberGoober at the moment, though that is likely to change here in a few minutes and I suspect it will have something to do with feeling like a nut.


Teh Splotchy luhfgl;lhfg Meme

(If you're reading this post I may be deceased. I may not be. It's hard to say. I am attempting to postdate this post to overcompensate for the lack of raw aminal magnetism my blog has been capturing throughout the weekdays lately.)

I have been tagged in Splotchy's Keyboard Mashing Meme Challenge.

The Rules
1. Post the rules
2. Close your eyes
3. Count to five seconds
4. Type a whole bunch of random crap on the keyboard while you're counting
5. Open your eyes
6. Tag a few people

Okay. Ready?

sdioufgy0sfgui9-s8u34-tu4hgejntbnmsdvfnjhf 9yt3tt8 34rt98y eyh9erryh fge9rfgyhsjkhjksa fg

Shew. That was cathartic. I feel like a new woman.

I tag:

The Lass
Katie Schwartz
and the ever fashionable


Imaginary Love Letters to French Aurthurian Men I Don't Know- Dearest Clygés

Dearest Clygés,

I won't even try to pretend I speak your language, which I am most certain is the language of love, but rather I shall plead with you to make haste with your arrival. I can no longer wait for you to nestle your face into my neck as you smell my smooth, long-flowing tresses like in those commercials. We must now make use of this virtual world in order to fulfill the calling of the ages, the calling of hyper-inflated romantic longingturnedtolust to which our mothers and fathers undoubtedly fell prey.

These are modern days in which we live, days in which a woman like myself is free to wear petticoats with no dress and to be so forward as to write about her longings for your bulging loins and a hot milf of yore's ample bosom on her blog. Yea, the days of consumption have shifted away from that which withers to that which lingers... indefinitely, consuming the space of yonder forests through which we might one day walk in search of portals to timeless moments.

Hands held, never to be released, let us remind each other of that which it is all too easy to be forgotten. About five times now it has slipped my mind to pick up some toothpaste at the store and am thinking that if I knew I would be kissing you, it might help bring the matter to mind when I traverse this town to ye olde yonder tempe frito pie vendor. I also need to get some veggie pockets and juice boxes for the young. If only I were not waiting here for you for what seems like an eternity, I could drop off these videos or maybe you could just do it yourself.

In the moment when we are finally able to requite our thirsts with bottles of Vitamin Water, perhaps we will be, by then, skilled enough to text by touch, so that we might gaze unhindered into one another's eyes, even if for only a brief glimpse of our mutual fondness before our lunch breaks are over and we commence with our noble duties: stacking papers, writing on papers, recycling papers, and sending papers and wares on wheeled steeds to distant lands that our creditors might credit our over-due payments without penalty.

Elect as we might to screw our own selves day in and day out, let us not dwell on what ails us, lest we overlook that which will render us whole, complete, without wont, nearer to each other and the truth. In other words, could you please hurry on up with that pizza? We're hungry around here. I'll blow you in exchange. And then I must remove this Renaissance wench garb before my husband returns.

Please receive my warm regards and badunkadunk,

Florence Jolïete


Say It Ain't So, Jesse Jim!

Ah don' really wanna be writin' this, but mah famly did a invention on me an' said ah's gots ta change mah ways. After ah gots fired from mah job a' Hooters, ah knows ah was lost. It's jes' tha' when ah's doin' meth, ah cain't ne'er seems to open mah channel wit' Jesus an' ah's pretty sure tha's why God punished me wit' gettin' caught stealin' from they's tip jar. Now, Mamma, she says she's gonna keep Ray Jean a' she's house so's she an' Reverend Dean can keep they's eye on 'er an' home school her with tha Bible "like they shoulda done wit' me" 'til ah cuts back on tha Jim Beam. It really ain' no big deal though, 'cause mah unaployment done runned out an' ah's hadta been drinkin' them boxes a wine these day no how.

Tha' good thing tha's been goin' on wit' me is tha' me an' Carl Wayne gots back t'gether and ah thin' he may even wanna move in wit' me iffin' Becky Rea 'cides ta marry Bobby Dale 'gain. Ta get Mamma off mah's back, ah's started goin' back on o'er ta tha Sundy night "Live An' Let Live" meetin's o'er a' tha church. Plus it's been a year 'bout now since Jesse Jim died an' ah got's ta face mah pas' like he was always tellin' me. It's been okay there without him, but some a they's soccer mom's is kinda stucked up an' ah gets tired a they's judgin' me wit' they's money an' they's talkin' 'bout they's problems wit' they's husbands an' they's kids. An' then when ah s'gested they jes' need ta spank some sense inta they's kids, they done looked at me like ah's skinnin' a coon right there in tha meetin'. Ah come ta think they's jes' some people ain't ne'er gona change they's ways an' they's always jes' gonna piss me off an' ah jes' better get used to it.

Ah was thinkin' 'bout Jesse Jim t'day on account a he was mah first sponsor an' he's tha one who told me ah's s'posed ta write mah grievances in mah diary when ah wan' tha Lord ta be near me an' tha's why ah e'er e'en started this here diary in tha firs' place. He had he's way wit' womens, tha's fer sure. Ah thin' tha's why ah wanted ta fuck him a' first, but after a while, ah started thinkin' he was kinda cute. He was in he's first 30 days too, an' jes' drinking wine an' cuttin' back on tha meth weren't e'en been so bad wit' him back then.

This mornin', 'cause it's mah visitin' day wit' Ray Jean, ah was thinkin' 'bout Jesse Jim when Bobby Dale took her an' me on o'er to tha state fair an' we got us we's armbands an' we's coolers an' we made us a day outta it. He was real good-like when Ray Jean wandered off fer them 3 hours 'bout keepin' he's eye out fer her an' sure 'nuff right after we was done wit' we's fuckin' 'hind tha funnel cake stand, Bobby Dale spotted her holdin' hands wit' tha guy Nikki Kim done d'vorced las' year an' gave her a spankin' all daddy-like ta teach her she's lesson. It were so sweet ah e'en got some a them goose pimples on mah arm jes' now thinkin' 'bout it.

Ah's thinkin' e'erythin's goin' so perfect t'day 'til Bobby Dale dropped me an' Ray Jean back off o'er at tha house an' me an' Carl Wayne gots into it when he done started he's usual shit he starts wit' mah's boyfriends an' then Bobby Dale said he don' wanna see me no more. Ah tried sayin' tha senility prayer ta Jesus, but ah di'nt hear no words this time. Tha's when ah 'cided, "Fuck it" an' went off an' snuck me some a Mamma's meth, got mah rifle an' took off ta go huntin' ta clear mah mind.

Down a' tha bottoms ah was recollectin' tha las' time ah' was there. It were tha day ah saw Sarah Louise gearin' up she's feed ta shoot she's family some deer meat while's they was stayin' a' she's daddy's cabin fer they's vacationin'. She been all o'er tha' news these days runnin' fer pres'dent or some such nonsense. Mamma use ta say, "Tha' girl's too big fer she's britches," an' ah's always 'greed. When she stol' ol' Todd from me tha' summer after high school an' got him to move on up ta bumfuck Alaska ta work on she's daddy's fishin' boat, ah 'cided ah's gonna pay 'er back iffin' it's tha las' thin' ah e'er do, but killin' Jesse Jim weren't what ah was meanin'. Ah had long afore bit tha' bullet an' wen' on o'er an' slept wit' she's daddy one summer when he was stayin' in they's cabin o'er on Jumpy Hill.

Ah weren' e'en thinkin' 'bout all tha' mess though 'til ah saw 'er on tha' Saturday Night Live las' week. It made me think 'bout tha' day las' year when Jesse Jim died. When ah saw 'er tha' day ah weren't feelin' too sore an' was e'ev thinkin' 'bout fergivin' her 'til ah saw Jesse Jim steps he's self outta tha' porta potty an' on o'er ta where she were standin' an' gives her a big ol' kiss afore he saw ah was standin' right there. He said he di'nt want no words wit' me and when they was walkin' off, ah got 'em good. Ah yelled, "Sarah Lou, ah done sleeped wit' you's daddy. How da you like that?" Fer once in she's life, she di'nt have no words, so's ah yelled on ta Jesse Jim, "Ah got's you's baby in me, honey. You's gonna be mah baby daddy." Ah was feelin' all goodlike 'til he hollered back, "Tha's okay, 'cause ah done knocked up Sarah first an' she's gonna be havin' mah baby too an' she gonna leave Todd an' we's gonna be famous an' rich an' there ain' nuthin' you gonna do ta stop it, Florence Joe." Well, ah had tears in mah ah's fer sure, but ah's a good Christian an' ah gived him one more chance like ah though' Jesus woulda done 'fore ah pulled tha trigger a mah rifle. "Say it ain' so, Jesse Jim! Say it ain' so, or ah's gonna shoot!" He missed he's chance is all's ah can say 'ccordin' to mah 'ttorney, but ah'll be doggoned if tha charges weren' dropped an' tha' slut Sarah di'nt sent me a card ta let me know tha' she done named she's baby "Trig" in honor a what ah done fer her.

(h/t to M. Yu for the pic of Ray Jean in she's homeschoolin'.)


Oh crap! I forgot I had a blog.

I repeat. Oh crap! I forgot I had a blog. I was lalalaing around, workin' it with The (not A) Lass, hitting my head against the wall in the math library, plotting the likely demise of tens of future teens, even going out into public last night, almost forgetting that I am a blogging recluse. The Lip Model walked down a runway last night for reals and I marveled at her. She also sold a painting (probably.) The Genius hosted his fourth grade podcast last week, is learning sign language, and has decided he's going to create his own outdoors society and he's taking names. Snaggletooth has nailed the drums on Iron Man and The Future President is gathering votes and kissin' babies as usual. Someone has to remain unfashionable, through it all and that someone is, apparently, me.

I've decided that I need to outline or concept map my memoir, which I am pretty sure will be entitled, "If You've Got Time to Lean, You've Got Time to Clean." It's such a good title, I know I have to say, "Don't steal my shit, yo," 'cause I'm the one who had to hear my manager Roy at my first job at The BK Lounge tell me that shit when I just wanted to do was make out with my co-workers in the walk-in. Sheesh. Time goes on, but things remain the same, huh?

I know you're all checkin' here weekly for the brilliant ideas of the genius and me. This past week we invented pooper. We've decided to kill two birds with one stone, as it were, and just make paper out of recycled poop. It's what we in the biz call a "win-win" scenario. The only hitch is that successful recycled pooper hinges on adequate fiber intake, so drink your Metamucil, boys and girls.

What else? What else? Aw shit, I'll post this and then post again later rather than making this a marathon love-maiking session. That's what we in the biz call a "quickie."


Inquiring Minds Want to Know. I Know.

I do not yet pay for my stat services. I use (a hidden) statcounter and (visible) sitemeter and just erase my statcounter's stats every 500 visitors. I am particularly proud of this round of stats' top-seller and thought I'd summarize the best of what Freida Bee has to offer:

6 6.45% thongkini
4 4.30% useless math
4 4.30% corduroy fetish
3 3.23% pissant
3 3.23% frieda bee
2 2.15% when do you tell someone good morning
2 2.15% what is sucking gold down
2 2.15% math is useless
2 2.15% workplace stupidities
1 1.08% is math useless?
1 1.08% what do you want me to do
1 1.08% la belette rouge sitemeter
1 1.08% 5th grade essay about how proud i am to be attending elementary school
1 1.08% palin sept 30
1 1.08% sarah palin organic gardening
1 1.08% tx state payroll scale
1 1.08% how to go about getting some bees
1 1.08% sweet jesus please forgive me i am a sinner
1 1.08% avery freida
1 1.08% elementary soccer written assignments
1 1.08% pooside showers
1 1.08% goodfuck
1 1.08% fucking house wife in delivery pizza boy 30 minutes video
1 1.08% freida bee
1 1.08% 3 things would happen if bees were gone
1 1.08% palin didn't learn the easy way harvard
1 1.08% happy birthday monkey boy
1 1.08% toodles froodles
1 1.08% i love you just the way you are because god loves you
1 1.08% do you enjoy wearing corduroy
1 1.08% hulk mamma.is
1 1.08% log 0
1 1.08% vorld sex
1 1.08% presidential proclamation and fluffernutter
1 1.08% washer agitator dildo
1 1.08% opposite of well mannered
1 1.08% heart's not in it going through the motions
1 1.08% sarah palin remind
1 1.08% soccer games for elementary
1 1.08% elementary soccor games
1 1.08% vey hot female orgasam
1 1.08% barefoot and pregnant album fort smith punk
1 1.08% the world according to garb
1 1.08% redneck money saving
1 1.08% stale charge
1 1.08% i want my dream to bee read
1 1.08% freida philosophy
1 1.08% freida approach
1 1.08% multiple stupidities
1 1.08% coworker a blowjob
1 1.08% best things about elementary school
1 1.08% its getting hot in here so talk of all your clothes
1 1.08% freida
1 1.08% funny bee slogans
1 1.08% morning sweets
1 1.08% three-way-marriage
1 1.08% freida blog
1 1.08% reupholstered porch swing
1 1.08% positions of the day
1 1.08% vorld big tits
1 1.08% thought math
1 1.08% sad housewife
1 1.08% email chuck todd
1 1.08% jesus loves you just the way you are
1 1.08% freida virgin media
1 1.08% oh father for i have sinned in my ways forgive me
1 1.08% free mom teach goodfuck
1 1.08% lump on the top of my head what could it bee
1 1.08% god loves you just the way you are
1 1.08% skinny hyperthyroid
1 1.08% what to do when your sex life is stale
1 1.08% texas state employee pay raise
1 1.08% bee slogan
1 1.08% does bee shit?
93 100.00%

You wanna know what I'm wearin' baby? Corduroy. That's right. Uh huh.