How to have fun on Royal Wedding Day

The hoopla surrounding the Royal Wedding has reached an absolute and unbelievable fever pitch. Every media outlet from here to Timbuktu is eagerly providing play-by-play wedding coverage down to the very last glorious detail of the blessed day. Thousands upon thousands of common folk have been camped out for days along the procession route all in hopes of getting a firsthand glimpse of the wedding festivities. Bookmakers have been taking wagers on everything from how long the royal marriage will last to what color knickers the wedding participants will wear.

Quite frankly though, it’s all feeling a bit exclusionary seeing as not all of us received a prized invitation to the so-called event of the century. But never fear my lovelies, you aren’t going to be left out of all the excitement. I, The Empress, have strapped on my royal thinking cap. In doing so I’ve come up with oodles of ways that you too can be a part of this most special and momentous occasion that is otherwise known as The Royal Wedding of Will and Kate.

Please note that I may or may not have consumed copious amounts of vodka cocktails whilst compiling this handy dandy list of fun things to do in honor of the Royal Wedding. You may or may not want to do the same should you so choose to play along. It is totally up to you. But anyhoo, without further adieu let’s get this party started:

THINGS TO DO IN CELEBRATION OF THE ROYAL WEDDING:

• Sleep. When you finally roll out of bed, be sure to enjoy a nice cup of brew in your very own “I couldn’t care less about the Royal Wedding” coffee mug.

• Speak in a fake British accent for the duration of the day. If you are an actual Brit then feel free to divert to pirate speak or another amusing accent of your choosing.

• Swan around town wearing a tiara whilst pretending you are a distant descendant of royalty.

• Insist that everyone who communicates with you refers to you as “Your Royal Highness”.

• Go to the drive through at Burger King or Dairy Queen and insist that you want your free commemorative Royal Wedding meal.

• Attend a fancy shmancy high tea service and don’t forget to taste the coveted spotted dick.

• Have a shot every time the media says the words “Princess Kate”, “fairytale wedding” or “the royal couple”. You are guaranteed to be completely off your trolley by 7:00am.

• Spend some quality time playing with your very own royal jewels.

• Shag whilst using commemorative and highly inappropriate Will and Kate condoms.

• Share this post with your friends and help pimp out The Empress. She is royalty after all.


Happy Royal Wedding Day!
xo The Empress

Above the Law - Celebrity Edition

On Friday, April 22, 2011 the red-headed repeat criminal offender otherwise known as Lindsay Lohan was sentenced to jail for a FOURTH time. Yet despite her ever growing rap sheet that includes drugs, DUI, assault, probation violations and now thievery, Lindsay was released from jail just mere hours after being sentenced to 120 days incarceration for violating her probation by stealing a designer necklace from a jewelry store.

Even though Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Stephanie Sautner stated that Lindsay showed intent to keep the necklace she had stolen and that Lindsay’s conduct probably warranted a felony, the judge reduced LL’s charge from felony grand theft to a misdemeanor. Doing so drastically reduced the amount of time the troubled starlet would be required to serve for her crimes. This also effectively set in to motion the likelihood that any actual jail time Lilo could potentially serve would be cut short due to jail overcrowding.

So basically all that Lindsay had to do was have her overworked attorney file a quick appeal before the courts closed for the day, post bail and then flash her frequently used “Celebrity Get Out of Jail Free Card”. Lindsay was then away and laughing …most likely straight to the nearest hotspot for another weekend of major partying…

It could now take months before Lindsay’s latest appeal will be heard. In the meantime she is scot-free to continue to wreak her own special brand of hellish havoc upon society, which at this stage of the game is rather disgusting and just plain wrong.

Personally I’ve completely and utterly had it with the likes of Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton and all of the other ‘above the law celebrities’ who gallivant around the world, repeatedly break laws and yet never have to be accountable for their actions.

It is high time that the Hollywood judicial system stops with all the silly wrist slapping and starts making celebutards serve their FULL sentences for the crimes which they commit.

If the jails are too crowded to house a celebrity that has to be segregated for their own safety, then ship their mamby-pamby lily white asses off to another jail that does have the room AND make those celebrities pay for their ‘special’ incarceration requirements.

Stop molly coddling celebrity offenders who continually break the law. Toss their asses into jail. Ensure that those Hollyhood celebutards have good and ample time to reflect upon the crimes that they have committed. And don’t let them out until they have served each and every second of their jail sentences. Otherwise, as Lindsay Lohan has proven, they WILL continue to commit crimes, make a mockery of the judicial system and waste taxpayers’ money.

ENOUGH is ENOUGH!

Booty WHAT?

The other day when glancing over at the backside of a sales advertisement I did a double-take. There in bold copy were the unmistakable and rather gross words: BUTT PASTE. Yes, you read that correctly. Butt Paste.

One’s mind then starts to wonder if such a disgusting thing as butt paste might be akin to say ‘toe jam’ but instead applicable to the funk found in an unkempt keister crack.

Much to my relief however, it turns out that butt paste isn’t some sort of skanky medical affliction (but if it were no doubt the sleazy likes of Paris Hilton or The Warlock would catch it). Instead butt paste is actually this rather innocuous stuff:



Curiosity then got the best of me so I did a bit of research to find out what other sorts of weird and kooky butt creams and potions (of the non-hemorrhoidal type) that might exist. It turns out there are plenty, take for instance this magical arse powder:



Apparently one sprinkles this special powder around one’s butt region to help stop chafing and friction …from sporting activities, monkey business or what have you…

Then there is bleaching cream for one’s bunghole. Yes, anal bleach. Just a few dabs a couple times per day and you too can restore your backdoor exit to its former bright and shiny glory. You’ll have to use your imagination here folks because trust me, you DO NOT want to see the photos!

And on that note, I believe I have a bit of friction and chafing to tend to…

Happy Monday my lovelies!
xo The Empress

Is that a snake in your pants or are you just glad to see me?

If you’ve hung around these parts for a while now then you know that one of the characters I enjoy playing here in the blogosphere is none other than the amazingly bejeweled turban wearing and oh-so-prophetic Madame Ranter’s Box.

Normally the Madame is best known for making snarky but incredibly accurate predictions about those douche canoe celebutards that we all love to hate. However, her mystical talents do actually extend beyond the Hollyhood and into the everyday life of us non-celebutards.

Case in point, earlier this week my psychic meter was going full tilt and completely off the charts. So much so that I didn’t even have to dust off my trusty old crystal ball in order to eerily foresee what was soon to happen. (Insert creepy foreboding music here)

Much to my horror whilst heading down a footpath to the beach I noticed something lying across the pathway. There was a woman several yards ahead of me who was alternately taking photos and screeching like a little girl over whatever it was that was blocking us from passing. In fright I think she might have peed her pants, but who are we to judge?

Anyhoo, I quickly discovered that the source of her freak out was none other than a 3 ½ foot long bad-ass snake that was seriously considering eating either her, me or quite possibly both of us as an afternoon snack. Well, Miss Pee-Pee Pants wasn’t having any of that so she high tailed it out of there all quick like, wet drawers and all.

I was then left all alone with the slithery snake monster. Not good. Not good at all. However, being that nothing is ever going to jack up my lovely quiet time on the beach, I quickly morphed myself into The Snake Whisperer and started doing the best rendition of parseltongue I could muster. Harry Potter himself would have been proud.

And finally after being subjected non-stop to my awesomely convincing special mind powers, snake daddy finally decided to crawl back into the bush and terrorize some poor rabbits. It was only then that I remembered my creepy dream the night before. The one where I dreamed I was out running and had gotten bitten by a snake…


*******************
Okay, now that I’ve most likely given you all a serious case of the heebie-jeebies, check out this funny wee gem where all pride goes out the door:




Laughter truly is a universal language!


xo The Empress

What WON’T be happening at the Royal Wedding

From prancing vicars to leap-frogging princes and bumping royalty to a randy groom, my guess is that none such frivolous and frowned upon activity will be occurring during the glorious royal wedding of Prince William to his lovely bride Kate later this month. In an alternate universe however, this is what the crazy party version of the royal wedding might look like:



One can only imagine what sort of joyous debauchery would then take place at the accompanying wedding reception. Extremely good times for all no doubt!

Enjoy your week my lovelies!
xo The Empress


PS: Please let me know in the comments section below what sort of fun shenanigans you would like to see happen during this momentous occasion.

Let’s get this party started – doggy edition

You’ve all probably heard various accounts of mischievous pets and what they really get up to when their owners are away. Dogs happily sleeping on the bed or digging in the trash, cats climbing the curtains or walking across the kitchen counters, it’s all pretty standard fare. However, there are some rather industrious pets out there who find far more inventive ways to pass their time when home all alone. For visual proof check out this video clip highlighting the ingenious escapades of one very determined dog:



Hopefully that wasn’t the good booze or fido is definitely going to be in the dog house!

Have a fantabulous week my lovelies!
xo The Empress

Art is SO open to interpretation

I discovered this wee gem through a friend and thought it was too good not to share.

A rather embarrassed mother made the shocking discovery that her child had turned in the above drawing for a homework assignment. In response the mother felt it rather necessary to write the following letter to her child’s teacher:

Dear Mrs. Jones,
I would like to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, an exotic dancer. I work at Home Depot and I told Sarah how hectic it was last week before the blizzard hit. I told her that we sold out of every single shovel we had. Then I found one more in the back room, and several people were fighting over who would get it. Sarah’s picture does NOT show me dancing around a pole. It’s supposed to show me selling the last snow shovel we had at Home Depot. From now on I will remember to check her homework more thoroughly before she turns it in.


How. Mortifying. …but you pervs know that you saw a stripper pole in that drawing too!

Enjoy your weekend my lovelies!
xo The Empress

There IS such a thing as TOO BIG

In an ongoing attempt to appease your pervy little appetites, I did some additional spicy research over at TLC’s kooky and somewhat shocking show called Strange Sex. Please meet Jonah our subject for the day:



Now I don’t know about you but if Jonah brought that thing anywhere near me I think I would have to book him on charges of assault with a deadly salami…

Happy Hump Day my lovelies!
xo The Empress

It’s always cocktail hour somewhere

Combine an industrious nature with sheer stupidity and you have one reliable recipe for disaster folks! Good ole boy Dennis LeRoy Anderson of Proctor, Minnesota is known for having a way with engines, a desire for comfort and mobility, and penchant for getting regularly sauced.

Being the clever 60 something year old fella that he is, Dennis came up with the brilliant plan to take his beloved La-Z-Boy recliner and kit it out with nothing less than:

-a Briggs & Stratton engine …as you do!

-a steering wheel, headlights, and power antenna …but of course!

-hot rod racing stickers …‘cause you gots to look cool!

-a stereo …what would a tricked-out ride be without some dope tunes?

-and those ever-important cup holders …so you can take the party with you baby!

Apparently Mr. Ass-for-Brains thought his ride was da bomb, so much so that one night he decided it would be good fun to take his prized converted lounge chair out on the road and down to the local pub …as you do.

Dennis proceeded to consume no less than 8 or 9 cold ones in the bar before heading out. He then strapped himself into his motorized La-Z-Boy, revved up the engine and attempted to drive off -- at which point he lost control of his furniture and crashed bumper car style into a parked Dodge Intrepid.

Shortly thereafter when our champion lounge chair rider was looking around and no doubt wondering WTF had just happened, he was arrested by local police for having a blood alcohol level more than three times the legal limit. Being that Dennis (surprisingly) already had another drunken driving conviction under his belt, there was no sweet talking himself out of this one.

Upon facing the judge he pleaded guilty to driving a recliner under the influence and was sentenced to jail time and a stiff fine. And to ensure the future safety of the public, this dumb arse’s decked-out recliner was also impounded and later put up for police auction.

Now I don’t’ know about you, but I’m thinking we should just go ahead and give this dude an honorary ‘Darwin Award’ because he is obviously swimming in the shallow end of the gene pool, and well, we all know that no good can come of that! …I’m just saying…


Hope you enjoyed this oldie but goodie. Happy Monday my lovelies!

Daddy is a Big Scaredy Cat

It’s nearly the weekend and the sun is shining so we are going to keep this post short today. First I want to say thanks to all of you that visited stupid stuff i see and hear to check out my naughty blogging collaboration with Evil Bruce. If you aren’t yet following Bruce head on over to his site and click on FOLLOW. You’ll be glad you did!

As for my promise to pimp out the blog of the person who guessed the actual topic of what Bruce and I were going to be posting on, I’ve had to rethink how I would award a winner. Unfortunately no one happened to correctly name our subject matter. However, because I enjoy being a big ole’ pimp mama I’ve chosen:

Vinny over at As Vinny C’s It.

He correctly guessed that the topic would be about sex and that it would be a he said / she said type of post. Plus Vinny is known for drawing really great pictures with stick boobies AND he is now a writer for Sprocket Ink. Be sure to visit his site and show him some bloggy love.

And finally, this wouldn’t be The Ranter’s Box without including some snarkery or laughter. Be sure and listen to what the little girl says at the very end:




Score: One point for the creepy critter and zilch for daddy!

Have a fantabulous weekend my lovelies!
xo The Empress

And the debauchery is officially out of the oven!

After slaving away in the oh-so-naughty blogosphere kitchen, Bruce and I have finally finished cooking up our spicy and saucy little dish for you. So if you are ready for a big ginormous taste of our blogging collaboration then head on over to stupid stuff i see and hear, open wide and enjoy …oh, and don’t forget those handy dandy wet wipes…

Happy Hump Day my lovelies!
xo The Empress


PS: Please let me know below what you think of our cooking experiment, even if your comment is just a thumbs up or thumbs down. Thanks a bunch.

Guess what’s cooking up?

Awhile back I mentioned that I would be doing a juicy blogging collaboration with my word perv buddy Bruce over at stupid stuff i see and hear. Well, Bruce and I have been diligently plugging away in the proverbial blogosphere kitchen, stirring and mixing and making sure we add just the right amount of spice to appease the appetites of our loyal readers.

I’m very excited to say that our special and top-secret concoction is scheduled to come out of the bloggy oven sometime tomorrow afternoon or so. Once it does I will post a link to Bruce’s site where you can go and check out what we’ve been cooking up. You definitely don’t want to miss it! Just make sure you bring along some wet wipes…

And in celebration of this most momentous occasion, later this week I will be pimping out the blog of the reader who can correctly guess the topic of our blogging collaboration. Just leave your answer in the comment section below.

Good luck!
xo The Empress

Detroit Has Spoken

On Saturday night, April 2, 2011, He Who Shall NOT Be Named, aka the self-proclaimed warlock with tiger blood and Adonis DNA, bombed the opening night of his “My Violent Torpedo of Truth/Defeat is Not an Option” comedy tour at the Fox Theatre in Detroit, Michigan.

The show proved to be an absolute hot mess, with porn stars singing the National Anthem and the warlock himself (unsurprisingly) spewing nonsensical rants and gibberish about trolls and crack.

The warlock tried to spice the show up a bit by having his so-called “Goddesses” make out for the crowd after which he instructed them to ceremoniously burn his bowling shirt from Two and a Half Men. None of which worked…

Disgruntled audience members were reported to have vigorously heckled and booed the warlock, with many of them chanting that they wanted a refund before bailing en masse from the theatre. Not what anyone would consider winning by any means.

Next up on the tour roster is the unfortunate city of Chicago, Illinois. Gawd forbid…

Complaint Letters: Parking Edition

Hello my lovelies and thanks for hanging in there while I have been busy and up to my eye-balls on a project for my paying job. Also, while we are on the subject of thanks, I want to say how much I appreciate all of your votes and support in the recent blogging competition I was in. After making it through to the second round I ended up having my ass trounced by a mommy blog. Congratulations go out to Mommy Confessions who is now close to taking the top prize in the tournament.

And now we will return to our regularly scheduled snarky programming:


Dear Inconsiderate Vehicle Operators,

Whilst I am sure you think you are incredibly special and feel that municipal parking regulations do not apply to you, I am here to tell you that YES, they actually do.

Those big red paint markings surrounding the cul-de-sac curb with the bold white letters that say “FIRE LANE NO PARKING” mean just that. No parking. No waiting. No lingering. No stopping. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

And yes, I am talking to you Mr. Jackwagon in the BMW who thinks the fire lane cul-de-sac is your own personal vehicle maintenance shop. Changing all four of your tires in the fire lane is not allowed. Replacing the front and back seat of your vehicle in the fire lane is not allowed. Putting your vehicle up on blocks whilst you conduct an afternoon of car repairs in the fire lane is not allowed. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

And yes, I am also talking to you asshat movers that illegally park your loud, noisy moving trucks in the cul-de-sac fire lane at all hours of the day and night and proceed to roll your loud and annoying hand trucks up and down the moving truck ramp, all whilst you disturb my right to peace and quiet because you are too damn lazy to park in the properly designated loading area.

And yes, I am talking to you couriers and delivery truck drivers that back your obnoxiously loud and beeping vehicles into the cul-de-sac fire lane, only to then illegally park and leave your monster vehicle engines idling whilst you go about doing your delivery business. All because you think you are so effing special that parking regulations do not apply to you. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. You just do whatever the hell you want to do.

And yes, I am also talking to you shit-for-brains drivers that can’t be bothered to park your vehicles in the special underground visitor parking area because you are too stupid and/or lazy, and therefore find it much easier to just illegally park, wait or linger in the cul-de-sac fire lane with your car headlights shining in my front window and your stereos blasting. All because you think you are special and that parking regulations do not apply to you.

Well, I am here to tell all of you rude and inconsiderate cocknozzles that you are wrong. Just because I might be known for walking around my house completely starkers from time to time and you are hoping to get lucky and catch a glimpse of my awesome boobies, DOES NOT mean that you can park illegally in the fire lane outside my home. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

Now go move your damn vehicle and don’t make me tell you again!

Regards,

The Empress