Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Thanksgiving is about green jello.

What? You think this looks like a booger dressed as Saturn for Halloween? You're wrong. This, gentle readers, is green jello.

Every year for Thanksgiving MDH gets out the china that Grandmommy Dearest bought one piece at a time from Woolworth's for thirty thousand years before finally accumulating a full set. Every year, FDH prepares MASS QUANTITIES OF FOOD that no one can finish. And every year, MDH prepares green jello (which, incidentally, no one can finish either).

Green jello is to Thanksgiving what mystery meat is to hot lunch. Green jello also comes in orange, in which guise it is called "orange jello." No living Joo outside MDH's sibling group eats green jello. Its composition is uncertain. Sure, it has jello in it. But its other contents are as disputed as the Da Vinci Code. Still, much like a drunk uncle to whom no one speaks directly for fear he may begin discussing his left testicle (mutilated during the war), green jello is a Thanksgiving fixture.

And so, it is in the presence of green jello each year that the Joo family carries out another thanksgiving tradition. Each Joo at the Thanskgiving table expresses in turn that which he or she is thankful for. After packing children, dogs, clothing, medication, and adult homework into the cars, filling tanks of gas, traveling miles and miles to reach the House of Joo Childhood, and preparing graceful refusals of the green jello in advance, sometimes it's hard for each Joo to express thanks. But, on this holiday, when we have A and B and MDH sans cancer, this Joo thinks we should all express thanks for the green jello (or your family's equivalent) and the chance to teach A and B (substitute your children's initials here) to abhor it. That is, after all, what Thanksgiving is all about.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Things The Joos Learned From Their Mommy Dearest Honey

1. Always pull your chin back tightly when being photographed.
2. Never order tilapia from a hospital.

Monday, November 24, 2008

Pee Pee Horse?

For months and months and years and centuries A has been asking for the "PeePee Horse." Good Joo and hubby could not figure it out until one day at Target, A shrieked, "That's PeePee Horse." Is this horse a porn star? Could this horse possibly be a children's toy? Perhaps a porn star scared straight by being born again finding his way as a children's toy? A was so pleased, and the good world continued to turn as she shouted, "It's a boy."

No shit.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

The Good Incision

The Incision is home.

After a team of surgeons and social workers shone very bright lights upon it, pointed sternly at it, and shouted into it with megaphones, "By the power of Grayskull, BEGONE, Incision!", it decided to close and stop spitting pus at everyone. Since the Incision is home, the Mommy Dearest Honey ("MDH") is home. To reward it for good behavior, MDH bought it a rawhide.

There is much rejoicing in the houses of Joo.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Saturday Morning Joo Comparison

When Bad Joo awoke this morning, as is her custom, she called Good Joo. Good Joo didn't answer. Good Joo called Bad Joo back:

BJ: Did I wake you?
GJ: No. I was vacuuming.

Friday, November 21, 2008

Fun Facts About Horses

Morgans can be black, brown, bay, or chesnut-colored.
Morgans like to pick their noses and eat it.

Thursday, November 20, 2008


A sat down with Good Joo's charming hubby last night to write up her Christmas list. Below is a copy of said list.

Dear Mr. Santa-

My name is A. I am 3 years old. For Christmas, I would like-

Froggy (as seen in photo on right corner of trunk)
Brown Horse (as seen in photo)
White Horse (as seen in photo)
Pinto batteries horse (the $280 version that walks you around the house)

Thank You!

Merry Christmas.



Seriously? Doesn't A have enough horses already? Can she not find a brown one to suit her amongst all of her brown ones? Good Joo is sure that readers are able (as the Joos are able) to pick out all of the above listed items in the included photo. And if readers think A is getting a $280 horse, they are wrong.

And then the Joo sees this and thinks, "I'd buy that cute ass kid every last horse on this earth.", which Good Joo and her hubby clearly have.

The Incision

The Two Joos' mother recently kicked cancer's ass, and in doing so, acquired a new pet: The Incision.

The Incision is a bastard. It is not potty trained. It chews on people. It is aggressive with other incisions. It cannot go to the Incision park. It has been hanging around for three months and will not go away. In short, it is no fun at all. For some reason, though, The Two Joos' mother has decided to keep it around.

In its latest series of wacky adventures, The Incision opened itself up and spit a money shot of pus all over its mistress, a small Midwestern town, and many innocents. The Incision's mistress is therefore on her way to the hospital where a surgeon or two will try to reason with The Incision. Wish her luck.

Lawd help us all.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Quitting Smoking Realistically

As previously indicated, Bad Joo recently quit smoking. The quitting of the smoking led the Bad Joo to murder, eviscerate, burn, and scatter the ashes of numerous innocents, including several children under the age of 3. Still, Bad Joo did it. She hasn't had a cigarette in five months. Five long, long, interminably long months. Five lonely, lonely months. Five months without the support and security of Joe Camel.

Bad Joo digresses.

Bad Joo quit the smoking using the nicotine lozenge. Still, it was hard. It was awful. It fellated donkeys. It was no good. Therefore, during the quitting of the smoking, Bad Joo searched desperately for help on the internet. Bad Joo found a lot of great articles, blogs, memoirs, and books about how tough it is to quit smoking. None of these were realistic. Most of them said, "Take a deep breath when the urge to smoke hits you." A deep breath is inadequate. Deep breaths did not save the innocents Bad Joo murdered.

Bad Joo has therefore decided to post from time to time about the real experience of quitting smoking. This is one such post, taken from her non-smokier's diary.

Day 1.

I can do this! Yes we can! Woo hoo! I won't smell like a Goth Boy's Datsun anymore, and I'll save money too! Yeah! Whooopeee!

Day 1.1

Must smoke. Please. Anything. Room growing dim. Will smoke carpet. Yes. We likes the carpet, doesn't we.

Day 1.2

I killed a man this morning. In cold blood. He was smoking outside my building, and I knocked him down, pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, shoved it in my va-voom (that doesn't count as smoking, does it?), and then stomped on his face. I feel no remorse.

Day 1.7

Purchased pack of cigarettes. Put all twenty in my mouth. Lit with blow torch. Inhaled. Vomited.

Monday, November 17, 2008


Eight weeks ago, Good Joo miraculously brought baby B into this delightful world. Good Joo has since spent most days recovering from the obvious (the magic that is the birthing process) and the not-so-obvious (a kidney stone and surgery to remove said behemoth kidney stone ). Good Joo has learned that it is never a good thing when the ER doc giggles at the size of your stone (not to be confused with stones, as in "My hubby's got him some huge stones") and remarks, "you'll neeeevvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrr be able to pass that." In addition to the aforementioned, The Good Joo House has been afflicted by the flu, and a strept throat like virus. In short, Good Joo has been knocked on her ass.

For some reason, despite A developing symptoms of the above-mentioned illnesses, Good Joo recently decided she could not take her house of fetid skank for one more second. She therefore loaded a fairly ill A and a fat, happy B into the car to "go for a drive." Now, Good Joo hadn't been out of the house in eight weeks, and she just can't resist the fantastic shopping in Ft. Pain. This should not be surprising to any reader, since, according to the powers that be at Good Joo's husband's place of employment (who lured The Good Joo Family to Fort Gay), Ft. Wayne is known for its shopping and restaurants.

Still, after twenty-four hours with nary a fever in the house and eight long, long weeks living the life of a shut-in, Good Joo needed out. Bad shopping or not, The Good Joo was going in.

Upon arriving at the shopping mall, A immediatly made a bee line for the playground of filth. Good Joo determined this to be an okay move for two reasons: 1. A performed an unsolicited rendition of "Applebottom Jeans" in the parking lot, which surely gave her the right to do whatever she pleased for 24 hours; and 2. the germs A was sporting surely either originated from or were already sprinkled about said playground.

All was well and good until, in the distance, Good Joo heard a squawking. And it was not good. And it appeared to be coming from a mother gazing in A's direction. Said mother clearly had not received the memo that A could do whatever she wanted for the day by reasons of a successful hip hop parking lot rendition AND fatal illness. Good Joo moved closer to A's location, the top of the tree slide.

Squawker: You can't just sit there
A: (coughing up 1-2 lungs, staring at Squawker, is concerned).
Squawker: (increasingly annoyed) If you aren't going to go, then get down .
A: (still coughing, now with respiratory droplets shooting out randomly)
Squawker (clearly using her best pedagogy): Hello? Get out of the way.
J: (oh no you didn't).
A: (looking desperately at Good Joo)

By this time, Squawker's son had begun fitting around behind A and trying to push his way through. Have any of you ever seen True Blood on HBO? Or watched any vampire type shows? Then you know how fast a vampire mother moves. Squawker felt a cold, cold breath on her neck. She turned, and 1cm from her face was Good Joo Gone Bad. Think the gates of Hell. Think The Exorcist. Think Satan. Think your worst nightmare, and then think of it all up in your shit.

J: (Fetid, rotten, exorcist like breath enveloping the Squawker, Good Joo's head begins spinning counterclockwise, the voice of Ghostbuster's Zool comes forth) DO NOT SPEAK UNTO MY CHILD, VILE HUMAN.
Squawker: She is hogging the slide!
Squawker: You shouldn't bring her here if she is sick.
J: (Slipping back into mortal, p'd off mode) You shouldn't bring your son here if he is gonna be such a pansy ass and can't wait two seconds to receive all of the germ infested spittle my daughter wishes to spew into his mucous membranes.
Squawker: (walks away).

Now, the Good Joo is sure that ten days of narcotics did not help this Joo's rational thinking, and, perhaps, the "drive" wasn't such a good idea afterall. But, really. Don't f*** with the Joo or her darling offspring.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Shelter Pet of the Day

Joo and Joo do not like people who abandon their animals at shelters. Do the gentle readers know why? If one relinquishes one's pet at a shelter, the shelter is not required to put said animal up for adoption. And when there is no space to house said animal, it will be euthanized.

This three year old border collie girl is in just such a predicament. She's at Harbor Humane Society in West Olive, MI. . Bad Joo has the resources to get this girlie temperament tested and transported part way to you if you want her. Leave a comment if you do.

Exhibit A

Here we see the A in her natural element: a horse costume of her own device. Again, not a photo of sexual props. Please get your minds out of the gutter.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Stupid Joo Tricks

Contrary to appearances, this is not some sort of weird sexual suit that Phil constructed. The makers of complementary migraine therapy are just the tiniest bit deviant.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

The Terrible Bad Awful Thing

Sous-Titré: A look at the Profundity of Bad Joo's Badness

As the snow prepares to bury us like so much cement, perhaps a tale from the summertime will cheer us.

One time, Bad Joo's neighbor mowed her lawn. Nice neighbor, right? Wrong. Unbeknownst to Bad Joo, said neighbor courteously raked the grass clippings after said mowing and placed them into a plastic wheelbarrow (the "Thing"). One week later, after heavy, torrential rains, Bad Joo discovered the Thing in a corner of the yard. By this time, the "Thing" was full, not only with the aforementioned grass clippings, but with water.

The Thing was heavy, but Bad Joo attempted to empty it, trooper that she is. However, the moment the contents of the Thing were jostled, an unholy stench, the likes of which few have ever encountered, arose from the Thing in an evil cloud. Awful. Now, were Bad Joo good, like her sister, she would have dealt with the matter right then there. Obviously, Bad Joo is not, so she ran away from the Awful Thing.

The next day, Bad Joo had another problem. She had invited friends to a garden party. Imagine the horror of the guests, were they to see, smell, or otherwise sense the Awful Thing! To circumvent this issue, Bad Joo attempted to move the Awful Thing to a more secluded part of the yard. I think you know what's coming next.

As soon as Bad Joo lifted the handle, the contents of the Awful Thing sloshed wickedly over its borders, spilling upon the ground. The ground parted, and Hell attempted to reclaim its evil stench, but the Horrible Awful Thing was too evil even for Lucifer, and so it remained on the ground. A cloud of black, noxious fumes rose heavily from the Horrible Awful Thing, lingering like a low-slung belt all around Bad Joo's yard. Bad Joo was mortified. She ran away (yet again - Bad Joo is not very brave, even under the best of circumstances) from the Horrible Awful Thing. Then, she called in reinforcements.

Bad Joo's dirty foreigner husband is a compulsive peddler, let's say (we'll save the true nature of his compulsion for a later date). During the happenings described above, he was not present, as he was standing on street corners, attempting to sell previously-owned copies of the Book of Mormon. Nonetheless, when Bad Joo ran to tell her husband (let's call him "Phil"), he left his entire knapsack of used Books of Mormon on the corner and ran to save her.

Phil is very intelligent, despite his addiction to good book hawking, and he recognized the Horrible Awful Thing at once for the crisis that it is. However, the Horrible Awful Thing had its own powers, which clouded Phil's judgment and made him act inappropriately. Phil pushed through the stench and wheeled the Horrible Awful Thing to a more remote part of the yard. Obviously, The Horrible Awful Thing spilled all over the yard, and Phil and Bad Joo were quickly overcome by its power. They vomited all over each other, the house, the lawn, the sidewalk, some innocent passers-by, a fruit bat, and some breakfast cereal; but that's a story for another day.

Obviously, moving the Horrible Awful Thing to a remote part of the yard did not open said yard to the possibility of entertaining that very same day, but it did have the effect of allowing Phil and Bad Joo to forget about their plight for a few days (once the Horrible Awful Thing had settled back into its stinky slumber).

A couple of days later, Bad Joo asked Phil how he intended to dispose of Hell's Minion (The Horrible Awful Thing). Clearly still possessed by the fires of Hell, Phil informed Bad Joo of his plan. Apparently, the synapses in Phil's brain no longer fired correctly, for he proceeded to explain to Bad Joo that if they waited until it rained, the Horrible Awful Thing could be safely dumped in the yard, and the rain would quell any stench. Ha.

Thankfully, Phil was not permitted to test his theory, for it did not rain over the next week. After which period of time, still impaired by his exposure to the Horrible Awful Toxic Thing, Phil attempted to move it from one remote part of the yard to another under cover of darkness. We know not why. In the process, Phil had to "jump" the Horrible Awful Thing over a step, and roll it across the grassy knoll (not to be confused with the Grassy Knoll® of the Kennedy Assassination), thereby sloshing its contents liberally across much of the driveway and yard. This event took place whilst Bad Joo was away at a meeting of People Who Spend Too Much Time With Their Pets.

Imagine Bad Joo's surprise when she returned home only to find her entire neighborhood, block, yard, and INTERIOR OF HER HOME reeking of the filth of thousands of dead animals and their excrement enclosed in a small, moist, dark box. She nearly fainted. Somehow, however, she was able to fall asleep (I suspect she medicated herself). When she awoke the following morning, she was thrilled to find the interior of the home smelling as it always had (that is to say of Hamburger Helper® and Applie Pie Candles). But, she did not get off that easily, oh, no no no.

When Bad Joo opened her back door to let her devoted canine companions into the yard to relieve themselves the next morning, a dark, brown (brown as poop) stain lay sunning itself on her driveway. Worse, said stain was littered with small tufts of decomposing grass. One of Bad Joo's devoted canine companions (we'll call her "Idiot Face") immediately lay down in said filth and began nibbling on tiny canapes of rotten sludge.

The Horrible Awful Thing? It lay where Phil set it for months, until a concerned neighbor finally called in a Haz-Mat team to dispose of it, after which, Bad Joo and Phil resumed regular use of their yard.

Suuummmmeeerrrrtiiiiiiiiiimmmmme and the living is eeeeeassssyyyyyyyy. Maybe we shouldn't mind the snow so much.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

A Tale of Four Boobies

One of the many differences between the two Joos are their breasticles. Bad Joo has tiny little cupcakes. Good Joo has an ample bosom. In the below photo, Good Joo's boobs are at center, Bad Joo's (which, honestly, are more like side pork dragged into the bikini field) are at right, and fraternal boobs are at left.

We begin this discussion not because Good Joo wants to underscore her superiority in every way (although she may), but rather to discuss the reaction breasticles and the Joos' breasticular disparity evoke in the very young (very old, and those with compromised immune systems).

A bit of background: Good Joo has two daughters, A and B. A came first and is three. B came next and is only a few weeks of age. B's reaction to the breasticular disparity is not exciting, because she cannot speak and thinks only of Good Joo's boobs and the milk they bring forth. It is A's reaction we consider here.

Naturally, A is infatuated with her mom's breasticular appendages. So much so, that as the birth of B approached, and the breasticles got larger and larger, she schemed like a gangster to invent ways in which she could observe them unfettered. As below:

Scene I

A (all casual and shit): Mommy do you want to tubby (read: take a boiling hot bath) with me?

J: I don't think so, A.

A (crying a bit desperately and very dramatically): Mommy, I want to see the milk (from your pregger breasticles).

J: Honey, that's private (even though it shoots you in the eye when we are tubby-ing).

A cries. J sighs. The bathwater runs a background marathon, and the two characters prepare to jump in.
A (delighted): Mommy, your boobies are huge!

J: Yes, honey.

(Husband in background giggles like a woman)

A: Your circles are very, very big.

J: Yes, honey.

(More background girly giggling from husband, who, let it not be forgotten, has thus far been spared death and dismemberment at the hands of his pregnant wife, and should therefore shut his pie hole).

A: Mommy, they are for nursing baby horses.

J: Yup.

A: Mommy, that's beautiful.

This exchange does four things as an introduction to Joo and Joo.

1. It identifies the fact that A is adorable.
2. It illustrates that everything in the Good Joo house revolves around Joo's boobs, the tub, and horses.
3. It illustrates the enormity of Joo's boobs and their proposed use for nourishing orphaned foals.
4. It introduces the husband of the Joo, who laughs like a girl.

Now, in contrast, let us examine the Bad Joo's breasticles as seen through the innocent eyes of a child.

Scene II

The scene: a visit chez Good Joo by Bad Joo. The actors are changing into their pyjamas.

Note d'auteur: please read any sentence in the following scene that includes the word "tiny" or a synonym thereof in the highest pitch possible. Those desiring a truly authentic experience may wish to hold their hands out in front of them and make small movements therewith, much like a person feeling a sheet to ascertain the quality of the cotton or thread count. Like so:

A: Oooooh, Aunt Joo. You have such tiny, little, itty, bitty boobies!
J: Yes, A.
A: Ooooooh, Aunt Joo. They're sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo cute!
J: Thank you, A.
A (with mounting enthusiasm and pitch): They're just tiny, little baby boobies!
J: Yes, they are.
A: And, Aunt Joo, your circles are so little and cute!
J (putting on her nightgown): Thank you, A. Time for bed!

Bad Joo left the following day, and one might reasonably assume that the above exchange would be the end of that particular topic. One would assume incorrectly.

Scene III takes place over breakfast. Mother and daughter are bathed in morning light, enjoying toasty hot bowls of porridge.

A: Oh, Mommy. Aunt Joo has the cutest little boobies!
J: Is that so?
A: Oh, yes. They are so little!
J : Awwww.
A: Mommy, your boobies are huge! Mommy, your boobies are the mommy and daddy boobies, and Aunt Joo's boobies are the baby boobies!
J: (dabbing at porridge that has spilled from her left nostril) Right!


While this is not the end of the four boobies, it is the end for today. Any thoughts from other persons having breasticular experience are welcome, provided such thoughts do not start out with, "I never expected this to happen to me" and/or are not accompanied by pornographic imagery, anime or otherwise.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Coming Soon

Hi, I'm the Bad Joo (Joon). My sister is Good Joo or Belinda Joo (Joos). We are two very different sisters who aim to compare and contrast our lives and offer encouragement to similarly struggling ladies of the 21st century. Bad Joo lives in the jetto, works full time as a Girl Friday, and has cobwebs up in her womb from lack of use. Belinda Joo, the good sister, is living the Stay-At-Home dream with two darling children and a sparkling home in Suburbia. She has not yet been convicted of chopping up her husband and feeding him to the dog.

This blog hopes to answer the age-old questions, "How does she do it?", "Where the fuce did I put my access card/car keys/good earrings?", and "Why is poop delicious?" That and much, much more coming soon at You'll Learn To Keep House.