If you liked it, then you shoulda put Gonna on it. Oh oh oh.

Gonna is the most ridiculous cat to come along since those cats of old wives tales who suck the breath out of sleeping babies. Not that Gonna wouldn't suck the breath out of sleeping babies if there were sugar involved.

It has recently come to GJ's attention that Gonna has a motherfecking sweet tooth. The Joos shit you not. This came to light yesterday morning when, after having looted the candy stashed by A in her room, Gonna walked, nay, sauntered into the kitchen with the stick of a lollipop hanging out of her ridiculous ass mouth. And so, the Joos hereby declare that thus begins a quest to photograph Gonna with an assortment of bonbons in her pretty mouth.

IT IS SO ORDERED.

Deanne Meets the Boss

Boss: What's that on your face?
Bad Joo: A zit.
Boss (concerned, terrified, disgusted, and maybe just a little turned on by Deanne's enormity): Oooh.

Zitdate

Due to popular request, and by "popular request", BJ of course means "one person asked, which made BJ's day, because that means that at least one person reads this blog", BJ is pleased to present a portrait of herself and Deanne.

Deanne is still doing well. She's a fighter and is not likely to relinquish her comfortable residence on Bad Joo's face despite numerous applications of benzoyl peroxide, salicylic acid, Retin-A, toothpaste, very small rocks, breakfast cereals, and Raid®. However, her insistance that BJ and others sing her "How Great Thou Art" as a lullaby each night is getting old.

Update

Deanne is moving, internettes. She's moving. Like some sort of dermatological Whac-A-Mole®*, Deanne is ducking in and out of BJ's pores, eluding any efforts to snuff her. Woe is Joo.



*Whac-A-Mole® is a registered trademark of Mattel, Inc. The Two Joos are not affiliated or endorsed in any way shape or form by Mattel, Inc. or any of its related companies.

Twin Joo

All the stress of being a girl Friday, saving the world one pitbull at a time, AND comforting the tadpole in the most maternal of manners has apparently caused a flare-up in this Joo's latent adult acne, for she awoke this morning to a different view on the world. A slightly smaller, slightly red view on the world. Internettes, there is a zit the size of the budget crisis on this Joo's formerly flawless cheekbone, and it's IMPEDING HER VISION.

Now, ordinarily, this Joo would not bother the internettes with anything so trivial as a blemish, but this blemish is no ordinary pimple. This is the Patriot Act of acne. It is so far reaching, it's causing swelling and discomfort as far as the sinus cavities. It is...

DAS ZIT.

It occurs to this Joo that perhaps Das Zit is actually a retained conjoined twin, shifted to the surface through some plate tectonics-like freak of stress. Perhaps the Joos should name this monstrosity. Perhaps she should call it, "Deanne."

Please, internettes, pray for Bad Joo and pray for her affliction, Deanne.

Bad Poll

This Joo apologizes for the inane poll to your right. It seems that this Joo cannot feed a child and build meaningful sentences in the same day. Still, please vote. These Joos want to know what you think.

7 Days Same As Cash

Bad Joo here. Really. In the fleshish.

One of the Stupid Joo Tricks that has been keeping this Joo from her Internettes as of late is the arrival of the Son of Sam, scratch that, Son of Dirty Foreigner. A few times a year, Bad Joo and her Dirty Husband bus his spawn out of the land of stinky cheese and surrender pups and into the land of Freedom and water boarding. These visits give Bad Joo a magical mystery taste of parenthood, without the worry of losing a security deposit on a real child. Since Bad Joo has been working-like-a-purposefully-bred-hybrid-of-two-beasts-of-burden-but-she's-too-tired-to-come-up-with-a-hilarious-combination-of-any-two-such-beasts, she decided to take a few days off to entertain the tadpole.

Bad Joo would like to be one of you. Really she would. She would like to be adept at keeping house, teaching thoughtful lessons about life, and preparing well-balanced, organic, locally grown meals, but the truth of the matter is, she sucks limp donkey kong. It's true. This Joo is always excited to see the stinky tadpole, but ultimately realizes at the end of each sejour that there is a reason she has dogs instead of kids. She is inept.

The tadpole is at an age at which he from time to time collapses in a pool of tears for no apparent reason. Or, if there is a reason, the pool of tears is disproportionately deep in relation to the cause for its creation. This Joo believes you Internettes refer to this as the "tween years." This Joo refers to it as "What the fuck?" So, the other day, the tadpole found to his great dismay that his portable gaming device had erased his saved games. Disaster. Armageddon sans Rapture. Hell.

Bad Joo understands this sort of thing, for she played Below the Root (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Below_the_Root) like a junkie in the basement of the Bad Joo childhood home. She played it for so long, she ended up sitting in her own urine for DAYS (a la The Secretary, but minus the wedding gown and BDSM), she tells you, DAYS whilst the epic played on. It was fantastic. And so, this Joo attempted to console the tadpole upon learning of the devastating news by saying something comforting.

What Bad Joo Attempted to Say (and keep in mind, we're consoling in French here, team): It's okay, tadpole. I know it hurts now, and you want to drown your hurt in Morrissey, clove cigarettes, and black, black coffee, but you will remember the fun you had playing those games, and you will create and save new games, and it will be fanfuckingtastic.
What Bad Joo Actually Said: It's okay, tadpole. It' s just a game. You can play more.

In response to this fat fecking turd of a consolation, the tadpole just looked at This Joo as if to say, "How could my father ever put it in someone so callous?"

This Joo is inept, m'dears.

And so, this Joo recalls a recent conversation with a new friend in which she said something along the lines of, "I think I might want to have a BAYBEE some day." Friend, I take that back. Please call CPS prophylactically.

Convo

Recently GJ has had some great conversations with her hubby. This afternoon for example...

GJ hubby: Sugar what's wrong?
GJ: I just get really tired this time of day
GJ hubby: Why don't you make a pot of coffee like yesterday and then not drink it?
GJ: Why don't you eff off
GJ hubby: Sugar...you're such a sweet meat
GJ: Clearly

One of the things GJ loves so much about the hubby is his clear love for her even though she is a foul mouthed ass most of the time. Until someone by the name of Bedazzle stops using her razor sharp tooth to cut GJ's nipples off, GJ does not expect to become more pleasant anytime soon.

A.M. in the House of Good Joo

GJ is not going to beat around the bush. The mornings in the house of GJ have been awful as of late. There has been no sleeping. A lot of thrashing around at night and musical bed shit going on. GJ made da hubby take this photo this morning. Now GJ is not going to lie to you. The GJ hair always looks like this in the morning. Good sleep or not. And it appears that A inherited this hot mess. Da hubby's comment this morning, "SUGAR I didn't think you looked that tired." Well now why would you think that? You slept all night ass master. Oh and when GJ tried to wake you up to help with the ass that is B, you slobbered around and thrashed and said you were looking for "V". What is "V" you ask? Eff if GJ knows. Just some interesting, helpful thing da hubby says while sleeping. Now for those of you who are Good Joo siblings, parental units, roommates from college, neighbors, or have for some reason or another woken up near the Good Joo this picture will not shock. For those of you who have not...enjoy.

*Please note the Good Jew chair that Good Joo is sitting on. Purchased at a garage sale in the D. You like it don't you?

The Family That Skis Together Dies Together

The Joos are a product of divorce. See, all you families out there? This is what happens to your kids if you get a divorce - they swear, steal, and have indiscriminate sex with strangers. Or at least they swear. And live in the armpit of the Midwest.

Because the Joos come from a broken home, they spent summers and special ski season bonding time with the father of the Joo clan, Father Chris (a.k.a. The Nice Priest who sends Christmas gifts sometimes). As time progressed, Father Chris fathered a son with a brand spankin' new wife, and eventually, that son joined the Joos on their fatherly visits.

On one such occasion, when the Little Half Joo Son was five or so, the Joos were delighted to discover that he could be manipulated with physical force and emotional abuse. The Joos therefore threatened the poor Little Half Joo Son with "BEAT DOWN" every time he whined or displeased them in any way.* This was the source of much hilarity to the Joos, as you Internettes might imagine.

After one particularly long day on the slopes, TLHJS decided to unwind on the walk home by chewing on a ballpoint pen. Perhaps it was the constant beating down, or the fact that his daughters verily had vomited all over God's Green Ski Slopes, but this particular act of LHJS threw Father Chris into a frenzy (Note the clean language used by Father Chris in times of turmoil. He must be so ashamed of his offspring).

The scene: the foothills at Vail. A family is returning to their car after a long day of skiing.

FC: JUDAS PRIEST. For the love of Cripes. LHJS, put that down. Don't eat that.
LHJS: Why?
FC: Because it's poison, for Cripe's sake. You'll die.
LJHS continues to gnaw on end of pen.
FC: GOL DARN IT, NOW, STOP IT. YOU'RE GOING TO DIE
FC forcefully pushes pen out o' the mouth of LJHS.
FC: If you're going to eat that, you might as well just die. It's poison.
LHJS picks the pen up. FC pushes both the pen and LHJS to the ground. LJHS attempts to rise from fallen position in snow. Bad Joo and Good Joo look on from now very far away, pee slowly spreading through the snow around them, so heartily are they laughing at the ridiculous spectacle.
FC: Just lay down. You're dead. You died. You're dead.

FIN

And so, Internettes, the Joos can confirm through experience that age-old addage: The family that skis together dies together.

*As used herein, the phrase "BEAT DOWN" shall mean "to hold down and pretend to punch, kick, and mutilate a small child whilst hollering, 'beat down' and cackling gleefully."

New Rule (a la Bill Maher)

New Rule

You are no longer considered to be Amish if you have the following in your cart at Meijer:

-Mountain Dew (although GJ knows the weakness...she knows it)
-Pampers or Huggies
-Cheese Puffs
-Light bulbs


And you are no longer considered to be Amish if you are standing on the roof next door to GJ swearing into a cell phone.

Bad Joo Interlude

Dear Internettes-
Bad Joo is on hiatus for various reasons (mostly stupid Joo tricks). She will return when she is damn well ready. Until then...pray for her and send fabulous cash and prizes to:

Bad Joo c/o Good Joo
FART Wayne, IN 666