Okay, here is my first blog and it's about the squirrel. His writings and stream-of-consciousness style drive me crazy. His refusal to follow conventions of grammar send me into fits of labor all over again. (I have 4 sons. I hate the first three and love the baby. He's 39, gay and belongs to Mamma. I own him lock stock and barrel. He's gay because I willed it that way. I went to a voodoo priestess and we concocted some slime that I drank. No  princess slut will ever steal him from me. EVER!) Squirrel, you may have balls, but I have a vaginal fortress you're gonna have to break into if you want me.

When I meet your mother--the old bat, hag, Lady Macbeth, conniving she-devil--I'm gonna kill her!

Squirrel's nuts are driving me crazy. Squirrel, what are you doing to me? I'm a 78 year old woman who has not  been laid in like--2 years. It's Karma. I buried all four of my husbands, two of whom were gay. I just see those hanging balls of yours, squirrel, and I think what you must look like in real life; what they must look like! It's the fantasy that you create in me that's killing me. I wanna see them--up close and personal and then I want you to make love to me in the same way that you write: UNCONVENTIONALLY.

Squirrels gnaw, we all know that. Squirrel, baby, sugar daddy, tootleloop--I'm open season if you're looking for fresh meat to gnaw on. Come to think of it: squirrels don't eat meat. I'll be your fist Mr. Squirrel. Just put your paws, fingers, hands all over viciousbaglady. We could have a blast. I promise you. Come to mamma. You know, my stupid-ass daughter-in-law froze her eggs and they are tied up in a $400,000 trust fund I created for their fertilization. That's right: she don't breed, she don't reap. Squirrel, seriously, those eggs belong to me. I could use them. We could have a baby, a little squirrel just running around. Screw my daughter-in-law. To hell with that bitch and her eggs. Let's make history, squirrel.

There. I've said it. Viciousbaglady and the squirrel are going to have a baby. Now take that all of you and talk about it amongst yourselves. I'm off to my voodoo priestess to knock off squirrel's mom once and for all.

Squirrel: call me. Write to me. Let's make a date.  I know you want me. And for all the gals on OS who have a secret crush on my man, the squirrel, hey, you've been warned. Viciousbaglady knows who you are. I will get you. I created the road. There was no road before me. I did things (as I am doing with squirrel) that would break you bitches in half!