Schadenfreude Sounds So Sweet

The definition of the German word schadenfreude translates to taking pleasure in others' misfortune. I am a bitter, cold hearted bitch; therefore, the idea of cackling like a wild woman at Joe Blow's misery is right up my alley.

Come on baby, light my fire

I was the most on fire back in the early 90s. I drank like a fish, smoked like a chimney, and rocked the ridiculous hairsprayed-to-hell-and-back wind tunnel bangs that were ever so fashionable back then. I was at a friend's house one night, drunk off my ass as usual, when I realized I lost my trusty Bic lighter. In my infinite wisdom, it occurred to me to stumble over to her stove and try to light my cigarette on a burner. It was then that my bangs caught fire and I had to beat myself about the head and shoulders with a kitchen towel to put myself out. Ah, youth. Good times, yo.

The Birth of Tenacious Peaches

My internet alter ego is Tenacious Peaches. My first real interactive experience with the interwebs was at the Songfacts message boards. I had just given birth to my daughter (now known as The Peachlette) and was looking for songs to put on a CD to celebrate her existence. In my search, I came across Songfacts, the best website in the world. I stumbled across the boards and saw a forum for Questions and Answers. I had to join in order to ask for suggestions. I've never really had a nickname, so I came up with Tenacious Peaches on the fly.

Tenacious is for the greatest band ever, Tenacious D. I worship at the chubby, hairy, hilarious feet of Jack Black and Kyle Gass. I love them so much that I've even forgiven them for The Pick of Destiny. My husband (now known as Mr. Peaches) and I wore out their first CD we listened to it so much. Even now, I bust out singing random snippets of their songs. Allow me to rock your fucking socks off...



Peaches is not for the obvious Georgia reference. I don't even like the taste of peaches. My husband John is a very quiet, shy cat who wouldn't say shit if he had a mouthful of it. Once he gets to know you, he's hysterically funny, but you wouldn't know it just to look at him. Many, many moons ago, we went to a Christmas party at my former place of employment. They gave out the crappiest door prizes imaginable. I got a men's wallet and a friend of mine got a cheap bath set with peach scented soaps and potpourri. My friend wanted to trade with me so she could give the wallet to her husband, therefore sticking me with the bath set. One of the people sitting at our table was joking around and told John, "Kari is going to smell so sexy you won't be able to keep your hands off her." It was then that my quiet husband shouted out in a crowded room for all of my coworkers to hear, "Yeah, I'll be picking peach pits out of her pussy for the next 3 months." God, I love that man.

And thus the glory that is Tenacious Peaches was born. Hallelujah and such.

The Great Outdoors

My favorite place to enjoy the outdoors is indoors on the couch in front of the TV, watching either the Discovery Channel or the National Geographic Channel. Mother Nature's beauty is best observed through a pane of glass. I despise bugs and heat and pollen. I cannot fathom the thought of hiking or camping as recreation. I love watching the eyeball-eating, marrow-sucking, urine-swilling Bear Grylls on Man vs Wild, but I break out in hives just thinking about that sort of crap. God/Yaweh/Allah/Hasselhoff gave us the good sense to build shelter to get the fuck out of the elements and into air conditioning. Who am I to argue with Him? Or Her? Or It? My ideal environment would be a series of interconnecting tunnels in which sunlight is strictly forbidden and the central heat and air system is set at a delightful 69 degrees.

Things That Make You Go Hmmm...

I wonder if my decades-long affair with the salty, fatty mistress known as Bacon will make me more susceptible to swine flu.

Bibbity bobbity BACON!

A Haiku about Fast Times at Ridgemont High

In my quest to find more inspiration to blog, I'm using Plinky to help inspire me. Here is my first Plink - write a haiku about the last movie you watched.

Blowjobs and toking,

Screwing and masturbating,

I miss the eighties.

Tell me why…

I don’t blog more often. I was all excited to bore the world with my pseudo-intellectual ramblings and amusing stories that serve no purpose other than to stroke my own gigantic ego. And then *poof*…nothing. I think the longer I didn’t blog, the more pressure I put on myself to make it beyond all fabulousness. Well, screw it. It’s not like anyone’s reading this fucking thing. I’m just going to blog vomit whatever comes to mind whenever the mood strikes me. It doesn’t have to be The Iliad or Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, for chrissakes.

So here is a video that I cannot get out of my mind and the accompanying blurb I posted on my Facebook page some time back. Enjoy!


I had the original video posted but the sumbitches disabled embedding. The literal version is even funnier, so enjoy.

It doesn't get better than the combo of Perry's beak, Schon's fro, the mulletted keyboardist and the duo of porn staches. If you don't feel the synthesized fabulosity of this song and video deep down in your gooey cheesy soul, go ahead and de-friend me now. There is no room in my life for you and your soulless existence.