This is my dad. And these are his new underpants.

Most everyone that knows me probably realizes that I like to reinvent myself occasionally and now you're all probably thinking "Great, here's another freakin' blog about Cassidy changing her look." Yeah, get over it. My blog. There's nothing like slipping on a new hair color trying out sluttier makeup to cover up your insecurities and bring yourself out of a slump. If all else fails, get a piercing. And even better than that, is blogging about it.

Over the last year or two though, I've developed some new styles that stuck. Not the usual abandonment crap after a few months of feeling like a fashion-assbackward retardista. For example, high heels are still here and I'm feeling a shoe fetish spreading over me like a bacteria. The good, help you fight off sickness and be balanced kind of bacteria though, because I like shoes...I don't want to disinfect them.

I've become increasingly interested in style and actually giving a flip about fashion. I blame the Bravo network. So with finger pointing done, what's your favorite blogger into now? Well, I've been told my entire life that there is a preventable disaster that plagues women of fashion--panty lines. That's right, I wrote that whole blog to say that I'm taking up thongs.

I've been wearing one since this morning and I've only felt the urge to pull out a massive wedgie a couple times. This isn't my first attempt at taking up underwear as a hobby. In high school my fellow colorguard members decided that our uniforms would look much better sans panty lines and we all vowed to buy thongs to fix it. Totally didn't wear mine. It was terrible.

So I'm not really sure why I'm risking the torture all over again, but kinda glad I did. They feel sexy. I might just end up humping my own leg if I keep wearing them. Overall, it's just a "the cool kids are doing it" syndrome. Same reason I'm sporting leggings under my mini skirt. I'm sure I'll be carrying around a miniature dog wrapped in a feathery boa any day now.

I've been called ugly, pug ugly, fugly, pug fugly, but never ugly ugly.

AAARRRGGGRRRRRAAAAWWWWWRRRRLLLLLLPPPFFTTAHHLLSAAAPDAAOOOG!

That is the sound my brain is making inside my head this morning. It's mad at me for making it try to do a funny-as-shit blog when it's not in the mood. Not really, that's the clean version. Even I don't think you can start a blog with blogdamncocksuckmotherfuglyassmuncher! You just can't. What if a kid googles "assmuncher" only to have my dirty blog pop up with the word "fugly." I'm all about the families!

But back to me. Yeah, Me! ME ME ME!! Because this is the one place in the whole wide web that is for moi. (French is sexier, admit it.) I mean, unless there's some site dedicated to my awesomeness and filled with stalkery goodness that I don't know about--this is it. Trust me, there's no such page. I've googled myself plenty. And you can't run a stalker website of worship without proper tags.

This blog is the friend I get to gripe at when I don't feel like explaining every juicy detail of my bitch-a-thon. That's fabulous, because I know it won't ask questions. It won't say, "Hey, back that up a minute...where does the banana come in" or "so why were you googling yourself?" Nope. I just get to lean back in my folding chair and type away about anonymous douchebaggery that has been done upon me.

First off, let me just say that on Cyber Monday it is implied that the sales should last until Monday is over...not until say, 8:59 p.m. Seriously, I missed out on a reeeeallly good deal on a Christmas gift for the hubby because some A-hole at Amazon flunked the bit of 2nd grade math and science that told him how long a day lasts! Also, that Super Saver Shipping crap gets ya. I had one thing I was going to get and then that friendly little message pops up to say "Spend 5 more dollars and you get free shipping!"

So I go on my quest to find something that qualifies, because you can't just spend any regular 5 bucks you have to find Super Saver Shipping items to spend your $5 on to save $5 on shipping. I got so frustrated that I came back to it after dinner and the sale price was $43.99 instead of $19.99. Fartmonger!

Okay, so now I'm spending all freakin' week looking for stuff online to show my appreciation for my spouse and SHAZAAAM! Defeated by Cookies. You know how google "remembers" recent searches? Well a certain someone googled another someone and he wasn't looking for my well-deserved website shrine. Let's leave it at that. And this...

Douchebaggery!

Now I've got to pull the boogers off my son's face and go to the gym where I can run away from my problems anorexic-style, on an elliptical machine.

Hey! No guns at Thanksgiving!

I'm back from vay-cay! We got in around 4 o'clock Saturday afternoon so that Sunday we could have pizza-eating, Guitar Hero playing, recovery time. I'm rested, about 90 lbs of turkey and fruit salad heavier, and ready for Thanksblogging.

Before you ask me, "Cassidy, did you get drunk at your parents' house on Thursday, then take off your bra and hide it in their bathroom?" Let me just say this, yes. Let me also say that Merlot and gingerale make a tasty homemade wine cooler. And when you run out of Merlot? White wine and gingerale make a lovely champagnesque drink.

It was a decent trip. Eleven hours in the car isn't my ideal beginning to a holiday getaway, but it wasn't the worst car ride I've ever had. Michael only had a cold to spread to his relatives this time instead of the super flu. That was a plus. Although by Wednesday morning I sounded like I had throat cancer. Overall, both my dog and my son were rather well behaved in the car. Along the way we got behind a semi that had this paint on the back:



Overall the holiday was a smashing success. For most folks the T in T-day stands for "turkey" but I'm all about the Thanksgiving casseroles. I load up my plate with green bean casserole, baked corn, my mom's cheesy broccoli & cauliflower concoction, and most importantly the fruit salad.

Oh my blog, it's the most fantastic dish on the planet. It's a mix of cherry pie filling with Cool Whip, pineapple, mandarin oranges, and other sweet stuff mixed in. It's a big bowl of edible heaven that I could very well eat every meal for the rest of my life. And I try the whole Thanksgiving week. Breakfast? Fruit salad! Lunch? Turkey sandwich and fruit salad! Dinner? You betcha, fruit effin' salad. It's one of those dishes that I would sacrifice my dignity to lick the bowl clean after it's all gone and get it smeared all over my forehead.

Here I am slaving over a hot stove to make a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner for my family...


Nah, I made my sister-in-law and mother do all the cooking this year. I just stole that apron for a quick cameo on le blog. Festive, isn't it? Oh, and you like the socks a top my leggings? I was polite enough to remove my rock star boots at the door.

Sexy Mrs. Clause aprons aside, the whole holiday was actually pretty fun. I played games, ate a fuckton of food at two Thanksgivings, and had a nice 2nd first birthday party for Michael. I only had to use code with Liz once to scootch out of the room for a break from the family. We retreated to look at her snake round-up camping trip for the zoo while my mother-in-law and her new husband discussed the relative offensiveness of Chinese lanterns to Confederate battle flags.

That was after I won the challenge against Liz in using all of my sons alphabet blocks to make a crossword puzzle. See?



I'm such a dorkataur.