www.reneecarol.com

going to florida for a week….and road tripping down there. the ride should be interesting. we have amy, 5′8”, jimbo, 6′9”, and myself, 5′3”…all crammed in to a saturn ion. to fill in the extra space, we will pack capri suns and pringles. this is going to be one wild ride. the more shenanigans, the better. more material to write about. stories will be posted soon, i’m sure. and don’t forget to call up your grandma, we may need to crash on her couch.

so, as much as we try to stop it, we all grow older. i was reflecting on some things recently, and noticed that i am getting old as hell. here’s what i have concluded:

1. i’ve traded in the MTV for HGTV. sorry, usher, you’re out. instead of watching you pelvic thrust on anything with tits, i’d rather watch how painting my living room an enchanting shade of buttercream will bring out my walnut colored window treatments.

2. instead of studying my ABCs, i’ve graduated to learning all about my IRA and 401K. but, knowing your ABCs definitely comes in handy. especially when you have to recite them backwards to the jackass cop that pulled you over.

3. my style has changed…or, maybe it hasn’t. i still wear tights, leg warmers and off-the-shoulder shirts. boy george and i could pass as twins.

4. my taste in men had changed. i used to go for the clean cut, attractive, “i have a great plan for my future” kind of guys. now i look for the rocker, just crawled out of a dumpster, “i’m never moving out of my mom’s trailer” kind of guy. yeah, my taste has changed, but i didn’t say for the better.

5. i am more comfortable with being myself. either you like me or you don’t. “hmm, you dislike loud, obnoxious, mouthy women who make bad jokes and think they are always right? let me save you some trouble and suggest we never meet.”

this year for christmas, i have focused my wish list not only on myself, but on others, as well. i realize that i am not the only person on this earth that may need something, and instead of being selfish, i would like to put in some wishes for others, too. now, i know i can’t mail this anywhere…the post office must be overflowing with letters to santa, i’m sure. so, i’ll just do what every other spirited and gullible kid does- go and sit on santa’s lap at the mall and deliver my list personally. here is how i think this will go:

setting: local mall, overcrowded with people and frightened children, screaming bloody murder when placed on santa’s lap. it’s christmas eve, so everyone is trying to get their last minute suck up session with santa to get off the “naughty” list. i’m next in line, my list is clutched in my right hand and i just remembered how much i hate people in costumes. suck it up, renee, you can do this. it’s finally my turn and an elf who looks strikingly similar to verne troyer tells me to step forward. well, i guess there hasn’t been too much work since austin powers and the surreal life- take what you can get, man. obviously that sex video didn’t work out to your advantage. i walk up to santa and sit on his lap. what am i? seven? ugh. no picture, please. i do not want physical documentation of this experience.

me: hi there, santa. let me start off by saying i usually don’t sit on stangers’ laps unless it’s at frat parties for free jell-o shots. but speaking of booze, you smell heavily of scotch.

santa: ho, ho, ho, little girl. don’t be silly. santa can’t drink, he has to fly around the world to deliver presents tonight.

me: right. and next you’re gonna tell me that naomi campbell was number one on your “nice” list. anyway, i have a wish list for you, but not all of it’s for me. i wanted to make some holiday wishes for others, too.

santa: well, that was nice of you. but let’s start off with what you want.

me: okay, here it goes. i want health insurance, a new cell phone, and an I.O.U. coupon for breast implants that i can cash in when i am forty.

santa: how about a train set instead?

me: and how about i sign you up for AA, you booze hound?

santa: i’ll see what i can do. what else?

me: well, that was it for me. but here is what i would like to get others: i would like my neighbors to get a new baby jesus for their decorative manger scene. i have a feeling theirs will suspiciously go missing tonight some time between midnight and 3 a.m. i would like for you to give beyonce a new name, because “sasha fierce” blows. i want amy winehouse to get some new teeth because she ruined all of hers smoking rock. i want my parents to receive a half gallon of jack daniels- the more whiskey they drink, the less they resent birthing and keeping me. i want you to turn lindsay lohan straight again, because the sluttier she is, the better i feel about myself. i want you to give k-fed a muzzle, so that he can never open his ignorant mouth ever again. i want you to bring hilary duff a sandwich. that skinny bitch needs to eat something. i would like for you to deliver wade robson to miley cyrus so he can teach her some new dance moves. her latest video’s choreography sucks. and finally, i would like you to give my roommate some animal print decorative pillows. she seems to like those.

santa: okay, seriously, little girl? i’m santa claus, not oprah winfrey.

me: hey, i didn’t ask for you to give away 276 “free” cars and then ask for seven thousand dollars in taxes for each car. this should be a piece of cake…rum cake in your case, bud.

“who wants a moustache ride?!?”

my grandmother would be so disappointed.

no, this wasn’t my bowling score. i scored a 43 the first round and then a fifty-something the second time around. but gutterball should have been my middle name.

however, my good friend did bowl a seventeen her second game. we were usually paired up together, bowling at the same time, our lanes right next to one another. whenever we would approach the isle of embarrassment, we would try and figure out what our style would be for that time around. we tried everything. from taking four steps, to running, to grandma-style in between the legs…nothing worked to our advantage. and, my thumb did get stuck in the ball once. it totally threw off my pitch. (i am using this as an excuse.) and half-way through the first game, i find out i am holding my ball the wrong way. dang. with all of my ball holding experience, one could assume i knew how to hold an effin’ ball. anyway, there was some funny banter that should be noted:

my friend and i are up to go again, and before we grab our balls (insert perverted joke here), we review the scores on the screen.

friend: “renee, you’re beating me. you have nineteen and i have twelve.”

me: “erin, this is the fifth frame. we both suck with scores like that.”

the game is over and my friend goes up to her boyfriend to tell her that she bowled a seventeen.

erin: “ryan, my score was seventeen.”

ryan: “i couldn’t even bowl a seventeen if i tried.”

hey, it takes a lot of no-practice to have record breaking scores like that.

i had my first international hit the other day…that’s right, someone from australia checked out reneecarol.com. i don’t know if they came across this site on purpose or on accident, but either way, i thought it deserved a post. australia! that’s a long ways away, mate!

oh, and don’t worry about the pic above. he bought her a couple of drinks first, so she totally consented to photography during intercourse. i think after a few drinks, we all do.

i have come up with two new slogans for reneecarol.com:

1. making jesus cry since semptember 2008.

2. making my mom regret her pro-life decision on a daily basis.

who wants a bumper sticker advertising reneecarol.com?!?!

if y’all like the slogans or hate them…(i have many more written down somewhere), give me some feedback. you can even throw your own out there. and don’t worry, i won’t be offended. satan is rarely offended.

but seriously, we can have a slogan contest…however, the only difference between this and a real contest is that you won’t win jack shit. sorry, guys. can’t afford it. welcome to the shitty ecomony.

people piss me off. people piss everyone off. and when people piss me off, i have a message that plays in my head. it goes something like this:

“thank you for your feedback in this situation, but i am choosing to ignore everything you’ve said. i am going to submit your complaint to my customer service department, and i’m sure they will send you a coupon for a discounted fuck off in 8-12 weeks. have a wonderful day.”

DISCLAIMER: this is all in good fun. do not take anything i say in here too seriously and please don’t report me to the local authorities. let me tell you now- no, i don’t have any kids of my own, and no, i would never really treat children like this. this is strictly for the sake of entertainment.

still don’t believe me? fine. now you know not to hire me as your babysitter. see? i make that sex offender down the street look like a safe candidate.

rule #1

kids can be left alone. as long as they are confined to a certain area. my thought: leash children to a gas stove. make sure the leash is long enough to reach the fridge, just in case the delinquents get hungry. why a gas stove, you ask? it makes it easier for the kids to light their own cigarettes. because we all know- children and matches rarely ever work out.

rule #2

junk food is okay. so what if they consume too much sugar? it’s not like their ADHD is going to be affected. whether they eat too many skittles or bounce off the walls naturally due to their hyper disorder, it’s all the same. it’s nothing that leather restraints and a muzzle can’t fix.

rule #3

beat your kids. but don’t be dumb about it and do it in public like that dumbass in the walmart parking lot. do it in the privacy of your own home. i was physically disciplined when i was younger, and look at me now. i even graduated from college. and besides, you’ll want to beat them while you can. when they grow older and become stronger than you, you’ll need weapons.

rule #4

act nonchalant about drugs. trust that your child will be pressured in to buying some sort of illegal substance. when this ocurrs, revert back to rule #3, and then confiscate their stash. game on. more dope for you.

rule #5

stealing is wrong…unless it’s for a good reason. “son, you mean to tell me that you robbed the bank for $18,000? let’s hope you don’t get caught- you have to pay for college somehow, and lord knows i can’t afford it. but it’s nice to know that you are smart enough to rob banks and not local gas stations.”

rule #6

enroll your child in a sports program. when they’re older, they’ll thank you for their speed, endurance and agility when running from the police.

rule #7

stress the importance of safe sex. tell them not to make the same life long mistake that you did. and while you’re at it, stress the importance of wearing undergarments in public. not only will they be embarassed if unflattering pics of them surface on the internet, they’ll be pissed they aren’t capitalizing on it. if you put your privates out there, you better be charging for it. i like to think of this strategy as “breeding self sufficient, independent business owners.”

rule #8

don’t be afraid to assign tasks/chores to your children. years and years ago, kids were born to work on farms for their parents. more kids = less work you had to do yourself. so it’s totally okay to birth a litter of kids and have them stripping shingles on the roof by the time they’re six. see? we aren’t as dependent on mexicans in this day and age as we thought.

rule #9

have your children learn a second language. that way, when homeless people come up and ask for change, they can act like they don’t speak a lick of english.

rule #10

don’t teach your kids bad words. they’ll learn those as soon as they attend public school. let someone else do the work.

rule #11

install safety coverings to your wall sockets. great. little suzy just stuck her finger in to the outlet and ruined it permanently. thanks, suzy. where am i supposed to plug in my flat screen TV now?!?

*remember, i am only kidding. especially on that last one. i don’t even own a flat screen TV.