Thursday, May 24, 2012

Dandypants Jr? I think not...


As Delilah approaches adulthood-or what passes for adulthood in the land of Dandypants – there are some very important “adult” decisions being thrust upon her…and not the good kind of thrusting.

One particular question that people keep asking is “Do you see yourself having kids one day?” I’m not exactly sure what prompts people to ask a soon to be 25 year old narcissist about her desire to nurse something other than a hangover, but they do.

So, in an effort to clear the air and to provide a point of reference to all of those mindless weasels who insist all of us with working uteruses must provide the world with another self entitled, big headed prickbaby, I have compiled a list of reasons why I will never be Mother Dandypants. Enjoy.


1.     Selfish is the new black: I, Delilah Dandypants, am a selfish human. This means I like to sleep in, go to bed late, spend money as quickly and frivolously as possible, have lots of awesome sex, travel the world, drink martinis, eat fish, curse, and basically do whatever the fuck I want. Somehow – and don’t ask me how because I obviously don’t know – a baby means you can’t do all of that stuff whenever you want. How fucking rude, baby?! I mean, you house the little twat for TEN months (They tell you it’s 9, but 40 weeks is more like 10), feed it, change its diapers, occasionally show it something similar to affection and then you STILL have to give up all of that awesome stuff. Count me the fuck out. Nothing is worse than resenting your screaming infant so much that you consider putting it in the washing machine just to see if 2 month olds can swim…

2.     Mother May I NOT: I don’t EVER want to be like my mother. Very simple. Very cliché. Totally true.

3.     Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems: This is SO not true. However, you know what gives you LESS money? A fucking baby! Those little money grubbing sacks of flesh are so damn expensive. They want food and diapers and blankets and onsies and eventually they might need to go to college – assuming you don’t go all Crazy Florida Mom and put two in their skulls – and all of that lovely stuff costs OVER A MILLION DOLLARS. Fuck that. I’d rather BURN the money than spend it on soft skulled crybaby.

4.     Needy, Needy, Needy: Babies are extremely needy. Like for reals, yo. They CRY all the time! No words, just wails. How awful is that? No wonder people shake them. I bet they’re just trying to get their words out. We should be nicer to these people. Seriously though, you have to GUESS why the small bodied, big lunged beast is screaming at all hours of the night and even if you guess right, they might still scream. Who has that kind of time and patience? Not the Dandypants. I’m going with shake and bake. Seriously, I think buns in the oven rise around 375 degrees. You can quote me on that.

5.     Because SIDS is less common than you think and I don’t believe in miracles.


Hmmm on that VERY positive note, I think shall temporarily conclude this list. Look out for an update coming soon…well, Delilah’s version of soon J

Monday, February 27, 2012

The Best Friends Of The Dandypants




This lovely drawing showcases the insane beauty and whacked out coolness of my three sidekicks, Herman, the oh so sophisticated French Beluga whale, Carlito, the flame swallowing, embezzling Guatemalan giraffe priest, and Elmer, the rapping moose, who is usually surrounded by his herd of biyatches. The amazingly talented Dr. Vagabond was able to capture their essence and general awesomeness despite the fact that he is yet to meet them. What can I say, they’re shy!  

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

A Hymn for the Hymen


 It has taken me a bajillion years, but I have finally finished my reworked and AMAZING version of "Jesus Loves Me," inspired by the freaks at Menopause Mansion. WARNING: It's phenomenal. Just like Delilah.

Jesus touched me, this I know,
My broken hymen tells me so;
I fight back because I know it’s wrong,
But I am weak and he is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus fucked me!
Yes, Jesus touched me!
The Bible tells me so.

Jesus touched me, he who died,
Told me to open my mouth wide;
Then he covered me in his sin,
As drops of Jesus Juice fell down my chin.
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus fucked me!
Yes, Jesus touched me!
The Bible tells me so.

Jesus held me, held me still,
As his scepter got its fill;
Then he asked if I was bi,
Could he watch Mary eat my pie?
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus fucked me!
Yes, Jesus touched me!
The Bible tells me so.

Jesus loves me, we went all the way,
But with my clit he did not play;
I slurped his cock for all the angels to see,
He spilled his spunk inside of me.
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus fucked me!
Yes, Jesus touched me!
The Bible tells me so.

 

Monday, January 16, 2012

An Insomniac's Dream


Sometimes I wish I was a sleepwalker. I’d like to be the creepy, eyes open kind who climbs on tables and tenderizes the couch pillows. Why? Because if I am going to commit to being a sleepwalker, I want to go full force crazypants. While some might question my desire to be a nightwalking marsupial, I think it’s a brilliant idea. I’ve suffered from insomnia for the past five years or so and it is dreadful. I love sleep. Adore it. I would worship it if doing so wouldn’t take away from my already limited sleepy time.  A girl has to have some priorities. Sleep trumps religion. Always.

Thanks in large part to my insanely stellar logic skills; I have deduced that becoming a sleepwalker will assist me in stealing more slumber hours. Check, check, check, check, check it out:
1.        More Time for the Mundane: got a kid’s birthday party you’d like for me to attend, no problem. Just make sure it’s around 9 am. As someone who goes to sleep around 3:30 – 4 am, this ensures that I will be in my deep sea sleep and I can ‘mingle’ with children while sleepwalking. However, the mouth breathing, stinkfaces may not touch me under any circumstances. Waking a sleepwalker can be very dangerous…yeah, that’s why it’s dangerous. Trust me, sleepwalking me will be much nicer to your child. I also think that Dozing Delilah will help out with the chores. She’s a do-gooder – unlike her conscious counterpart. 

2.        Misadventures in Sleepwalking: When you are a normal bedsleeper you only get to experience the joys of waking up in a super comfy bed. What do sleepwalkers get? They get to wake up in the driveway…naked. Some lucky duckies even get to wake up in the park or car or a field, maybe even on your neighbor’s steps…naked. My inner exhibitionist rejoices. 

3.        Beautiful Nightmare: One giant Delilah driven perk of the sleepwalking lifestyle, no nightmares! Being a Dandypants often means waking up in the middle of the night, only to discover that the porcelain dolls aren’t trying to tie me down and torture me. Sleepwalkers don’t have to deal with such nonsense. Walking takes all of their limited brain function. Jealousy. Another benefit, no more bedhead. As someone with oh so long golden locks, I can appreciate the fact that when I go to sleep I will awaken with tangle free tresses. Makes me love sleep just a little bit more. Plus! No more pillowface! Future botox lovers rejoice – I mean, nevermind. Smile lines can be a bitch. 

Hmmm. I’d love to go on, but I think it’s time to practice my sleepwalking skillzzzzzzzzz