My beautiful, darling, expensive hos! I am wishing each and every one of you a safe and decadent Halloween! Thank you so much for continuing to visit my blog, even if I can't exactly update it the way I used to. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your loyalty, kindness, understanding, and humor. You are all so amazing and I love you so much!
Since today is one of my favorite days of the year, I thought I would bring my laptop to work and write a random Halloween post on my break. After all, today is a very special day. The day Miss Margarine blinks open her eyes, smooths her hands over her dress, and giggles quietly into the darkness. Yes, later tonight, when the moon is full and the wind is howling through the trees, I will awaken from a sound sleep to find Miss Margarine lying on top of me with a machete pressed against my throat.
MISS MARGARINE: Happy Halloween, bitch! Now take off your panties and grab hold of your ankles!
ANGRY GREEK: No! No, Miss Margarine! Please!
MISS MARGARINE: Your cherry is mine!
ANGRY GREEK: No, Miss Margarine! Please! Only in the ass! Only in the ass!
MISS MARGARINE: That blubbery gateway to hell? Fuck no! Even I have my limits!
Yeah, and speaking of Miss Margarine, I can't help but relive the various childhood traumas that occurred to me on this day. I am pretty sure I have mentioned this before, but I used to be terrified of cats when I was a young child. The very sight of a cat used to send me scurrying up the nearest adult with urine dripping down my leg. Yeah, and because Maman is a kind and gentle person, she decided to buy me a furry cat costume when I was four years old. Imagine my surprise when I walked into my bedroom and saw a dismembered cat head lying at the foot of my bed. How was I supposed to know it was a fucking headdress? I am pretty sure I shit myself on the spot.
And how can I forget the time my little brother got sick on Halloween? The asshole turned green halfway through our trick-or-treating route and mumbled that he was going to be sick. So Maman (helpful as ever) told him to vomit into his candy bucket. Imagine my dismay when he leaned over and vomited into mine instead. Yeah, and let's just say that he didn't have perfect aim. That's right. There I was, standing in my Care Bear costume, with vomit running down my arm. I cried all the way home and threatened to flush his head down the toilet because he'd soiled my candy.
MAMAN: No! That is not nice! Stop threatening your brother!
ANGRY GREEK: I hate him! I hate him!
MAMAN: Goddammit, I should have aborted you.
ANGRY GREEK: What?
MAMAN: Happy Halloween, I said!
Sigh. And on that note, I am wishing each and every one of my hos a glorious and safe Halloween! I miss you all and I will try to post again very soon!
Lots of Love,
The Greek Girl
PS: Capsie, Pammykins would greatly appreciate a Halloween greeting this year. Goddammit, stop being so fucking rude!
And now here comes the part of the day where the Angry Greek giggles hysterically at the misfortunes of others. All I will say about this video is that it made me laugh until my stomach hurt. Oh, and if I were to make a similar video, Maman would definitely make an unannounced (and very embarrassing) appearance near the end. Yeah. She’s emasculating like that.
MAMAN: Oh, so you want to go hard? I’LL SHOW YOU HARD! *beats the crap out of the Angry Greek with a frayed Kermit slipper*
And before you loons start screaming about HENS and WET PANTIES and DONUT CHEESEBURGERS, may I point out the fact that Goat Bitch has no idea that he’s engaged to Baba Yaga? In fact, that poor bitch is currently prancing through a field of daisies wearing a summery white dress and carrying a jewelry box with a pair of diamond-encrusted cock rings inside.
“Oh, Georgie!” he sighs, stopping to adjust his white velvet panties. “I always knew I would be a summer bride!”
Yeah, I really hate to be a girl scout but somebody needs to stop him before he makes it to George Clooney’s house and gets the door slammed in his face.
“You lying whore!” Clooney will sob from the other side of the door. “You told me you loved me! You told me you’d never get married for the sake of publicity! I can’t believe I trusted you!”
“Georgie, what are you talking about?” Goat Bitch will shriek, pounding desperately on the door. “Let me in! Let me in right now!”
“No!” Clooney will scream, throwing a vase of flowers against the door. “The best years of my life, Goat Bitch! That’s what I gave you! The best years of my life and you CRAPPED all over them!”
Yeah, loons! I bet you didn’t know any of that was going on! Anyway, this whole fuckery parade started on Friday morning when Robert Procop, a famed jewelry designer, claimed that Baba Yaga was wearing an engagement ring that he and Goat Bitch had designed together. Shortly after that, Goat Bitch’s rep confirmed the rumors by saying: “Yes, it's confirmed. It is a promise for the future and their kids are very happy. There’s no date set at this time.”
Oh, yes! I am certain the children are very happy! Yeah, as if Zahara doesn’t have enough shit to deal with already! It’s not enough that the poor girl has to stay up all night patrolling the local orphanages with a stake and a crossbow! No! Now she has to convince Baba Yaga not to hire Japanese chefs to chop up live children during the dinner reception!
Anyway, who the hell knows what’s going on anymore. All I can do is sit here and imagine what Baba Yaga’s first meeting with the wedding planner will be like.
WEDDING PLANNER: Now, as far as the menu is concerned –
BABA YAGA: Oh! Well, I do have a tentative menu planned if you would like to hear it.
WEDDING PLANNER: Oh, yes! By all means!
BABA YAGA: Well, for the appetizer, I was thinking of serving pecan encrusted toddler fingers wrapped in baby spinach leaves.
WEDDING PLANNER: What?
BABA YAGA: And for the salad, we can have hearts of romaine lettuce with eggplant tapenade, shaved parmesan, and preteen pate.
WEDDING PLANNER: Holy fu –
BABA YAGA: And for the entree, something classy. Horseradish whipped potatoes, baby carrots and miniature yellow squash, and toddler tenderloin with Vidalia onion relish. How does that sound to you?
WEDDING PLANNER: Get the fuck out of here, you satanic hand puppet! And take your effeminate goat with you!
Okay, before I say anything else, I just want to point out the fact that Paris is about two seconds away from getting slapped upside the head with a wayward Muppet slipper. Normally, I would make an effort to warn the bitch, but I am too busy being a massive cunt to be bothered right now. Yeah! Excuse me for being busy! God, Paris! Not everything is about you, okay? Some of us actually have jobs!
Anyway, back to my original point. I was over at Maman’s house this weekend and she was desperately searching for her summer tablecloth to drape over the picnic table outside. After all, when you invite Satan and the ghost of Hitler over for brunch, you have to have something pretty to place the food on.
Yes. Well, judging by the above photo, Paris Hilton stole the tablecloth and decided to wear it as a skirt at Coachella this weekend. And for those of you who give a shit, Coachella is a large music festival that takes place in Indio, California every year. Personally, Maman prefers the annual Virgin Blood Sacrifices/Bake Sale that takes place in Death Valley, but that is another story for another day.
Yeah, I have no fucking idea what to say anymore. I hope Maman follows Paris to an abandoned parking lot and proceeds to beat the shit out of her with an Elmo slipper. And knowing Maman, she’ll probably have a Muppet slipper in one hand and a pair of brass knuckles on the other.
MAMAN: Take THAT! And THAT!
PARIS: NO! PLEASE!
MAMAN: And THAT!
PARIS: Oh my God! It burns! It BURNS!
MAMAN: And THAT! Goddammit, this is turning me on! Stick out your leg so I can hump it while I beat you!
The amazingly gorgeous Hudson Leick is brought to you today by Slutty Gay Friend! And because he is currently tipsy at nine o’clock in the morning, he has dedicated this post to our very decadent Luscious Lynn! Slutty Gay Friend, I have no idea what the hell is going on, but the vagina is not the best person to go to for advice. After all, when I asked her what I should do about my laryngitis, she suggested that I coat my throat with Kahlua and vaginal secretions. In other words, what Baba Yaga sprinkles over her toddler tenderloin on Saturday evenings.
Because the Angry Greek has absolutely no shame, I am going to recount an extremely embarrassing story involving Enrique Iglesias. Remember that story I told you about the hot Polish exchange student I dated? Well, I have another embarrassing story involving her. Yeah, because the last story wasn’t embarrassing enough. Oh, shut up, vagina! I'll be damned if I get laughed at by a drunken pudenda wearing a baby bib!
Anyway, Hot Polish Girl and I were studying (and making out) in her apartment one night and we both ended up falling asleep on her couch. Well, I must have been in a Latin rhythms mood or something because apparently, I started singing Bailamos in my sleep in the middle of the fucking night. And I sang it so loudly that I startled Hot Polish Girl out of a sound sleep. Yeah, with that kind of sexy behavior, is it any wonder I’m still a virgin?
Anyway, who gives a crap about my past dating shenanigans. That shit is boring as hell. Here is the very sexy Enrique Iglesias! Team Wig requested Enrique ages ago and I am just now getting around to him! Team Wig, I probably blocked out your request on a subconscious level. Please forgive me. If you need to feel better about this, simply think of all the burning shame and regret I still feel to this day.
For some strange reason, I know that the vagina will get unbelievably drunk one night and cut the brake lines in my car with a pair of pink toddler scissors. And when that happens, I know I am going straight to hell in a hand basket. After all, there is nothing that makes me happier than watching other people hurt themselves on gym equipment. And by the way, I hope that the hand basket is a particularly colorful one. I enjoy colorful hand baskets. I think they make any situation more festive.
And before any of you get started with me, I know this entire story is full of shit! Since when does Baba Yaga need to be fitted for fake horns? All you have to do is play a sound bite of children screaming and two horns will automatically stick out of her forehead. After all, there is nothing that excites Baba Yaga more than the sound of screaming children. In fact, she wants to create a soundtrack of children screaming over the sound of ocean waves. So relaxing. Especially after a long day of sodomizing goats and tenderizing toddler meat.
Anyway, as most of you know, Baba Yaga will be playing Maleficent in an upcoming movie and apparently, she was recently fitted for horns: “It’s a really great script. I’m having a lot of fun. I’ve already got my horns fitted. My kids are very happy.”
And once again, I am going to adjust that quote so that it actually makes sense to us: “Who wrote this piece of shit script? I have never read such pretentious crap in all my life! Obviously, the writer has no idea how to plagiarize! I am not having fun at all! Dammit, my horns are poking out of my forehead again! Goddamn kids! They’re the reason I’m so stressed out at the moment! Obviously, I’m feeding them too much kibble! Well, no more! From now on, they’re only getting one feeding a day!”
And this was followed by Baba Yaga lurching out into the backyard and spraying Goat Bitch in the eye with the hose. Yes. Just like Maman, Baba Yaga knows that the secret to life is abusing those who are less fortunate. Yeah, and why do I have the sneaking suspicion that Maman and Baba Yaga have been trading sexy messages in a Match.com chatroom?
MuppetSlipper666: So tell me a little bit about yourself.
DecayingCorpse69: Well, I like long walks on the beach, worshiping Satan, and eating toddler stew on chilly winter nights. What about you?
MuppetSlipper666: My, you sound wonderful. I enjoy beating my daughter, terrorizing Tokyo, and baking banana bread in my spare time.
DecayingCorpse69: Mmmm. You sound perfect.
MuppetSlipper666: Why, thank you. You also sound like a very lovely woman. Now put down that toddler stew and sit on my face. I am going to suck your soul out through your uterus.
DecayingCorpse69: Too late.
When I heard that Snooki was preparing for motherhood, I immediately assumed that I would find pictures of her scavenging for scraps in the dumpster, building a nest out of her pubic hairs, and lubricating her anus with aerosol cooking spray. After all, Snooki is part titmouse and everyone knows that titmice can lay up to fifteen eggs at a time. Yeah. And just out of curiosity, why is it that everything that involves Snooki ends up smelling like ass? And pork fried rice, but that’s another question for another day.
Anyway, who the hell knows what’s going on in this photo. According to People magazine, Snooki was walking around with a plastic doll in an attempt to practice for motherhood. BULLSHIT! If Snooki was practicing for motherhood, she would be taking a dump in the middle of a grocery store and scooping her feces onto some refrigerated eggs in order to keep them warm. Yes, Snooki plans on being a hands-on mother, God bless her.
And speaking of hands-on mothers, my Maman would probably take one look at the above photo and say, “Why did somebody put toddler clothes on a turd?” Actually, she would probably shake her head and say, “People are so sick. Who would put a flower on a twice-baked potato? It makes no goddamn sense!”
Either way, my Maman would be absolutely correct. Maman is always correct. Like the time she told me not to go skateboarding without a helmet on because I might get a concussion. Cut to me running outside without a helmet on and skating up and down the street for two hours. Yeah, and the moment I walked back into the house, my Maman jumped out of the shadows and started beating the crap out of me with her Muppet slipper. So in a way, she was right. Not wearing a helmet can lead to serious head injuries. Especially when the Muppet slipper has rubber soles and a thumb tack sticking out of the general toe area.
If Best Fwend were here right now, she would be giggling girlishly and scribbling love notes to Sharon Stone on the back of a pair of whore panties. Just between us, Best Fwend used to be obsessed with the love scene from Basic Instinct. In fact, she swears that Sharon Stone may have turned her gay. Best Fwend, there is absolutely nothing wrong with admitting that. After all, Slutty Gay Friend strongly believes that He-Man turned him into a giggling queen. Which is very likely, considering that He-Man walked around in panties, a breastplate, and chose to wear his hair in a stylish bob.