Some fucked up funny shit, that’s what’s coming soon. Yours truly is honored to be teaming up with two of her bestest internet buds, PaintingChef and Bonanza Jellybean, to start an advice blog because we enjoy telling people what to do. Well, at least I do. We’re dubbing ourselves the Unholy Trinity because it made us all cackle evilly and ergo was deemed appropriate. It’s still in the works, and we’ve got to get the site together, and when we do, you’ll be the first to know. While discussing the minutiae of starting up an advice blog, we decided of utmost importance would be people who need some fucking advice. We’re quick like that with figgering shit out. Anyway, that is where you all come in.
Are you confused about shit? Got a question, be it blog related, relationship related or are you simply wondering how to get that stain out of your blue dress (ahem, where were we in 1998, erm, actually I’m not sure I want to know, or could even remember)? Then you must e-mail us at wethreebitches@yahoo.com. We'll do our best to advise thee and promise to deliver the advice with plenty of snark.
I will tell you one thing, though, so you don’t have to bother asking. Underwear that your cousin Dee gives you at your bridal shower is SO not intended to be worn for eight hours at work. If you look in your panty drawer, see bridal shower gift undies, and entertain the thought of putting off the laundry one more day, reconsider. It’s not worth it. Seriously. I mean, unless you're okay with having little jewels up your ass for eight hours. But I can tell you firsthand, the shit's not fun.
Oh yeah, remember to pay a visit to my little thumbnail friend over there in the sidebar. Ted rules. Come on. You know you want to click on it. It's right over thar----------------------------------->
Librarian- It's EXCITING! Yay. And a question would be more helpful to us than you know. :-)
Oh yeah, and I would definitely advise anyone who asked the blue dress questions NOT to fucking tell LINDA TRIPP about it. Whatever you do. That's of utmost importance.
Learning how to get that stain out of a blue dress is fine and dandy, but I've got this sweet little red satin number that--oh, wait, I'm supposed to e-mail the questions. Crap.
Well, I'm Zube Girl. Bermuda born, Jersey bred, and Colorado bound. Not 'bound' in the sense that that's where I'm headed. Bound in the sense that I'm bound here by an undying love for my husband and the mountains. I will always and forever be a Jersey Girl, though. While most importantly, I'm me, I also happen to be Zee Baby's Mom. She somehow managed to stick around my hostile uterus after three miscarriages. For that I am in awe of her. I don't leave much about my life to the imagination. Laying it all down doesn't really scare me. I muse about the good, the bad, and the ugly. I was raped in college and terminated the resulting pregnancy. I try to at least make the experience useful by sharing my story in support of Choice. You've been warned. Oh yeah, if you're not fond of sentences ending in prepositions, the F-Bomb, and random and chaotic use of ellipses, stop here...This blog is not for you.
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To get the stain out of the blue dress is REALLY easy! I've had to do that so many times myself, I discovered that the best way is to-
Oh wait. We're not doing that yet, are we?