Is Anyone Still On Dna's Facebook or Twitter?

Or on Emily's real Facebook? Have they updated anything at all?

I'm really starting to get worried about that family. Emily was so unhinged at the end, and she wasn't the most balanced person to begin with. I really hope the children and Dna are okay and that she hasn't decided to limit their food even more.

She was very addicted to blogging and the adoration she got from it that I just can't see her stopping cold turkey.

Greetings!

It looks like out Dear Emily has went off the internet for awhile. Maybe Dna took away her internet? She hasn't approved any new comments on the lint and fuzz blog, there hasn't been any new posts since the "big salad" post on FH, and Dna hasn't blogged or responded to any comments on his blog.

There is a new profile pic of Dna on his facebook page though. He really needs to eat something other than a couple lettuce leaves from a coffee can and some fermented gloodles. He looks like a Bobble Head.

http://www.facebook.com/#!/ghostsb?ref=search&sid=731840212.2062868333..1

Ask Aunt Fundie Friday

Editor's Note: Since Aunt Fundie will be attending a three day revival this weekend she asked me to post this on Thursday. She hopes that all her gentle readers will have a blessed weekend while she spends her weekend in prayer, growing closer to the Lord and showing off her new headcovering. God Bless! 

Dear Aunt Fundie,


My father has been approached by a young man wishing to enter into courtship with me. I have been a dutiful stay at home daughter for all of my nineteen years and I am ready to be a wife and a mother, as God has intended. I am, however, worried about this courtship as I’ve read of other Godly young ladies who have been courted, only to see it end badly. What tips can you give me for making sure he is the one God has for me?


Signed,
Eager in Edgarstown

Dear EIE,


First of all, congratulations on your possible courtship! How wonderful it is that your parents have not fallen in step with the evils of the secular world that preaches freedom and independence for young women such as yourself. I’m so glad they have steered you towards a Biblical method of finding a spouse. Most importantly, listen to what your father says about this young man. He knows better than you how God is guiding your life and your future happiness. You cannot go wrong in putting yourself under your father’s authority and proceeding forward as he sees fit. Secondly, I’d pay close attention to the behavior of this young man when in your presence. Many a Godly young man in appearance will show themselves to be nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing in due time. Does he try to hold your hand and therefore spoil your purity? Does he encourage you to speak your mind, thereby insinuating that he would not be a strong head of the household and your spiritual leader? Young men should be on the path of becoming Command Men who are dominant and expect their wives to wait on them hand and foot, who never yields to a wife’s complaints or thoughts, who expects their wives to be loyal, faithful and obedient. If your young man does not exhibit these tendencies to complete dominate you until you have no recognizable sense of self, then you need to pray that this courtship doesn’t proceed.

Dear Aunt Fundie,

I was not always blessed to be a card carrying fundie. I was once a daughter of the world. I smoke, drank, wore pants, spoke my mind, had pre-marital sex, defied my parents, considered myself equal to a man, had a career and was an unabashed atheist. Now that God has touched my heart and put me back on my true path as a woman who seeks only to fulfill her Biblical duty to marry and have children, be a keeper at home and a cheerful help meet, allowing her precious womb to be opened only by God’s loving hands, I find it hard to find a man who will overlook my past impurities and see me for the loving daughter of Christ I am now. How can I get them to see beyond my past to see the real me?


Signed,
Lonely in Laredo
Dear LIL,


You are spoiled goods now. No Christ loving man will want his sacred baby making tool of power near your soiled and dying lady flower. Your womb is not a place of innocent beauty but now a wreckage of dishonor. A woman’s worth is only determined by the status of their hymen. You’ll most definitely burn in hell. Have a sunshine day!



Aunt Fundie,


I am a 25 year old stay at home mom with a wealth of experience, knowledge, wisdom and intelligence. In fact, I’m something of an internet celebrity and sensation. I’m withholding my name due to privacy reasons as there are people who are out to get me. But you know who I am. You probably read me religiously in order to learn how to cook, keep house and properly mother your children. My point is this – I am a perfect submissive wife and loving mother yet I keep feeling drawn back to the career I had before I gave birth. I look back and wonder what heights I could’ve climbed if I had continued with my very important work.


Signed,
Melancholy in Maine

Dear MIM,


You need to ignore these feelings as they are just drawing attention away from your role as mother and help meet. Yes, there are women with barren wombs and evil hearts who are called to be doctors, lawyers, teachers, researchers, artists, writers and world leaders. Of course, we know they are really dead and empty inside, just like their shriveled up wombs. Bask in the knowledge that by cooking nutritious meals from scratch, homeschooling your children and serving your husband, you are the one really making a difference. Sure, women in science might cure cancer but to do so they are forgoing their true calling from God and any sense of pride they have is diminished by their sense of loss and broken hearts at not having a multitude of children. Further, women who work emasculate their husbands. By earning money outside the home women tell their earthly kings that they aren’t providing well enough for their families. By working as a doctor or a teacher a woman is showing their daughters a terrible, unbiblical example. How are little girls to grow up and know their place behind men if mom is in a position of authority over men in the workplace? And if little girls grow up feeling empowered then they will demand education, a worldly education that will take them out from under the protection of their fathers, into the world where they most likely will become prostitutes and drug addicts.

Ask Aunt Fundie Friday

Due to popular demand, Under1000BrainCells will continue to encourage young ladies and wise women by showcasing Aunt Fundie and her Biblical advice on issues dear to our readers’ hearts. This will be a regular Friday occurrence so keep those questions coming, loyal readers!

Dear Aunt Fundie,


I am an obedient and subservient daughter, a child of God who strives to live as a lady of virtue. I love to take care of my younger brothers and sisters. I help around the house, play the harp and love nothing more than to curl up with my knitting. I look forward to guiding my own home one day and welcoming as many blessings as God sees fit to send me. But I do live with a dirty secret. Under my prairie dress I often wear pants. I can’t seem to stop. I wear leggings, khakis and even, once, a pair of jeans. I don’t know what to do to combat this rebellious spirit in me!

Signed,


Fashion Fundie

Dear FF,


First of all, I’m so grateful to God that you admit you have a problem. Now the healing can begin. The first thing you need to do is to stop right away. Burn the evil, Satan-influenced pants. As you know, the Bible says that women should not wear the garments of men. By wearing pants you are putting yourself on the same level as a man and we all know that as women we are not only the weaker vessel but put here on this earth by God’s grace to serve men. You are upsetting the natural balance of the world by encasing your legs in fabric like that. Further, if a man were to catch a glimpse of the hem of your pants from under your feminine skirts they might think of your bottom in tight fitting pants and therefore they will be defrauded and it will be your fault for leading them astray. Also, by wearing pants you are just a hop, skip and a jump away from becoming a full blown, carpet munching, granola eating, Lilith Fair attending lesbian. Then there will be no hope for you at all and you will burn in hell for all eternity. Hope this helps!

Dear Aunt Fundie,


I am a young man very interested in a young lady of impeccable virtue. Her father, however, is unsure that I am right for his daughter. We have fellowshipped a number of times and he says that I’ve impressed him with my Biblical knowledge and my commitment to the Lord. His only reservation is that his daughter doesn’t seem to like me much and he thinks it’s important that she feels called by the Lord to become the one God intended for me. I am sure she is the one for me. What can I do to convince her?


Signed,


Lovesick in Louisiana

Dear LIL,


First of all, the only opinion that matters is her father’s. If she doesn’t feel the hand of God on her heart guiding her towards you and a life of children and homemaking, then it is only her father that can move her to her true path. Too many young ladies today are laboring under the impression that their views on marriage and a partner should be considered. This is patently in opposition to the Bible. In the Bible it states that the father has authority over the young lady and only during the marriage ceremony should authority be transferred to the husband. Your role is to convince her father that you are the right one. Then he should take a firm hand to guide her to her role as your wife. I am concerned that this father may not be strong enough if he is stupid enough to consider his daughter’s opinion in the first place. Is this really the family you wish to join? Look for other clues about their commitment to the Lord: does she shave her father, type his ministry paperwork, help with the younger children, study in a prayer closet and submit to every thought, feeling, and belief of her father’s? If not, then perhaps this is not the right girl for you. Women are to be without their own minds and opinions, only those instilled by their parents and by God. I suggest you seek elsewhere for your intended. You don’t want to get stuck with a free-thinking woman who believes she has any authority over her own life.

Dear Aunt Fundie,


What are your tip for raising Godly children? My children seem to be out of control. They are willful, defiant and opinionated. My eldest daughter actually refused to get out of bed, stating that she was tired. The day before she had done nothing more than make breakfast for the fifteen children, clean the house, do the twelve loads of laundry, weed the flower beds, harvest the garden, can twenty-five jars of tomatoes, supervise homeschooling, make lunch, vacuum, make the beds, paint the living room, wash the cars, take care of the babies, make dinner and cleaned up afterwards. What can I do to impress upon her that my will matters, not hers?


Signed,


Fed Up in Phoenix

Dear FUIP,


My first question for parents of willful children is to ask how they had been trained since birth. As you may guess, we are great proponents of the Pearls and their Godly way of training up a child. I do hope that you had used either a switch, a length of plumbers piping or a heavy tree limb to swat your daughter the moment she came home from the hospital. If you did not, then there’s your problem. You have trained her to be disobedient. The fault lies upon your heart. But, do not despair as there is a way to lead her back to her true path as a child of God and a willing servant in your home. I suggest that with kind but firm words you remind her that your husband is her true authority. If that does not sway her rebel heart then I would recommend that you start beating her with a shoe. As a child grows older, it’s easier for them to turn you into the authorities. However, a shoe with a soft rubber sole will leave no marks. So even if CPS shows up on your doorstep you cannot be charged as there will be no evidence. See how beautifully God plans things? Praise to Jesus. She’ll fall in line soon enough if you are consistent. Each time she talks back, balks at her responsibilities or attempts to engage you in an argument I would beat her about the head until she is silent. You’ll be amazed at how quickly this tip and God’s will shall work on her troubled heart.

Fundie Facebook

Here are some excerpts from our favorite fundies from their Facebook pages:

Michelle Duggar has an empty womb. It’s handy for spare change but what am I going to do with myself now?

Emily P. is going to train Dna to poop at work. Will keep bathroom locked at all times.

Anna Botkin is excited that her quest to take over the world is coming along smoothly.

Rebekah Anast is going to smash in her husband’s face if he doesn’t get a real job. She’s fucking sick of washing clothes on a rock.

Debi Pearl beat up a five year old at Wal-Mart. Good times.

Lady Lydia is having a scotch and wearing stretchy pants.

MckMamma is counting her money. She hasn’t seen her children in three weeks.

Dna P. is sick of Emiy. Might run away. Will take Brad.

JimBob Duggar is out of Aquanet! Crisis!

Jana Duggar is dreaming about the Bates boy.

Jinger Duggar is secretly reading Free Jinger. Rock on, my peeps!

Hannie Duggar is planning an escape route.

Anna Duggar wants to punch Smuggar in the face.

Smuggar is preening in the mirror. God, I’m awesome.

Mrs. Pittsburgh Pair is counting out toilet tissue squares.

Mr. Pittsburgh Pair is eager for work; needs to poop.

Captain Brett is polishing his fake medals and guarding his daughter’s purity.

Bill Gothard is touching himself and dreaming of Geoffrey Botkin.

Mrs. Bates is sick of being pregnant but is determined to win at the babymaking contest with Michelle Duggar. Suck on that, J’chelle!

The Maxwell Family is not having any fun at all.

A Possible Dna Sighting?

What do you think, is this Dna, or was Dna the tattoo artist?

Interview with a Virtuous Woman

Mrs. John H is the epitome of a Godly woman, a true lady of virtue. Under1000BrainCells was fortunate to obtain a private interview with her, in order to explore how a real lady spends her days and how she feels about many of the hot button issues with the Quiverfull movement.
Her house is well appointed and filled with crocheted doilies and fresh flowers. She ushers me in and we sit in the pristine living room.

Under1000: Thank you for inviting me into your home and discussing some of the most important issues we often explore on Under1000BrainCells.

Mrs. John H: Not at all. I’m happy to be the face of the Quiverfull movement. (laughs) May I offer you some tea? (she pours tea into fragile teacups with a delicate flowered design)

Under1000: First of all, how many children do you have?

Mrs. John H: Fourteen.

Under1000: Wow. That must make for a busy household.

Mrs. John H: Yes, but with our Managers of the Home scheduling we are able to make it work. Each child has a Chore Pack that outlines their responsibilities.

Under1000: Could you outline the responsibilies?

Mrs. John H: Of course. Ruth is responsible for the meals. Emily is in charge of homeschooling. Eve is in charge of laundry. Elizabeth is in charge of the babies. Emma is in charge of cleaning and changing the beds. Anna is in charge of maintaining the cars. Jennifer is in charge of the finances.

Under1000: Wow. That seems like a lot for the girls. What do the boys do?

Mrs. John H: (laughs gently) They are a handful. They are rough and tumble boys so they are usually running around and being, well, little boys. Could you excuse me a moment? (returning with a full cup of tea which she down quickly) Where was I?

Under1000: You were outlining the girls’ responsibilities? May I ask what you usually do in a day?

Mrs. John H: I supervise, of course, guiding the girls in learning the domestic arts. I am also nursing our youngest, Gabriel. That is a full time job! (laughs again. She excuses herself, comes back with another cup of tea and downs it. There is an aroma I can’t put my finger on.)

Under1000: Do you homeschool?

Mrs. John H: (a little slurred) Oh, yes. We don’t believe in public schools where they would indoctrinate our children to become homosexuals, hate Isreal and engage in orgies.

Under1000: I don’t think those things are very prevalent in the public school system.

Mrs. John H: Oh, yes, they are. We seek to shield our children from the world. (I notice she has a small Mason jar with her. She chugs from it and her eyes are a little glassy)

Under1000: Okay, well, let’s move on. I notice that all the girls wear dresses and rather conservatively. Can you explain your approach to fashion?

Mrs. John H: We believe in modesty. In beautiful womanhood. Our girls wear (hiccup) dresses that highlight their countenance. Would you like some more tea?

Under1000: No, thank you. May I ask what’s in the Mason jar?

Mrs. John H: Just a little pick me up. It’s tiring running after fifteen children.

Under1000: I thought you had fourteen children.

Mrs. John H: Do I?

Under1000: That’s what you said earlier.

Mrs. John H: (looking confused) Oh. Maybe it is fourteen. Well, in any case it’s a lot. They’re all blessings. (under her breath) Bloodsucking blessings. I still can’t feel my nipples.

Under1000: Excuse me?

Mrs. John H: Do you have any idea how hard it is on a woman to breastfeed sixteen children?

Under1000: Um, no. Did you say sixteen?

Mrs. John H: Whatever. (hiccup. Big swig from Mason jar) What else?

Under1000: Okay, let me ask you: what do you feel is your most important duty as a woman?

Mrs. John H: To bear blessings for the Lord. To serve my husband and to glorify the Lord. And…

Under1000: And?

Mrs. John H: What?

Under1000: You didn’t finish your sentence.

Mrs. John H: Oh. Um. (hiccup) I wonder where the kids are?

Under1000: I did wonder. It seems awfully quiet here.

Mrs. John H: (to herself) I got up, fed the baby, ate breakfast, we went to the store…oh, shit!

Under1000: What?

Mrs. John H: I think they’re at Aldi’s. Oh, fuck!

Under1000: Shopping?

Mrs. John H: I forgot them.

Under1000: You forgot them at the grocery store?

Mrs. John H: (silent for a moment. She takes a big swig from her jar, hiccups and then waves her hand dismissively) Oh, well, they’ll make their way home. They usually do. Though it is nice to have some peace and quiet around here. Goddamn, those kids get loud. Always asking for shit and running around and having to homeschool them and keep track of them.

Under1000: I heard that your oldest is courting. Can you tell us about courtship?

Mrs. John H: Well, we had inquiries from a young man about Ruth. My husband talked to him, studied the Bible with him and…well, whatever. You know.

Under1000: Know what?

Mrs. John H: What does it matter? Pretty soon she’ll just be stuck with fourteen fucking blessings, tired to the bone and with a womb so stretched out that she looks perpetually pregnant. What are you going to do?

Under1000: Does she subscribe to the Quiverfull movement?

Mrs. John H: I guess so. I don’t get much time to talk to her. She’s awfully busy, you know.

Under1000: What…(interrupted by Mrs. John H)

Mrs. John H: You want to hear something? (leans forward)

Under1000: Okay.

Mrs. John H: You remind me of Lisa.

Under1000: Lisa?

Mrs. John H: She was my best friend growing up. Gorgeous. Long blond hair, lips like ripe raspberries, full and supple breasts and one sweet ass. (hiccups)

Under1000: Oh, um, okay. Let’s talk about purity.

Mrs. John H: Purity, shmurity. Let me tell you about church camp. You see, Lisa and I were in the same bunk and late at night she’d come over and touch me…

Under1000: I see. Yes, I get it. Um, tell me about your husband’s ministry.

Mrs. John H: (closing her eyes) I wonder what happened to Lisa. Last I heard she was moving to San Francisco. She wanted me to go but my father put his foot down. God, she smelled so good, so fresh. Not like John.

Under1000: Well, tell me about your husband. How long have you been married?

Mrs. John H: You know the story. My father brought him around, Lisa had just left and I was sick of raising my little brothers and sisters. I don’t know. He was there. Dad liked him. Why not?

Under1000: When did the two of you decide to become Quiverfull?

Mrs. John H: (finishes the Mason jar) I dunno. We just…whatever. You know, Bill Gothard said to have the babies and Jesus likes babies and stuff. Are you sleepy?

Under1000: No. So do you have any regrests?

Mrs. John H: You know, I would have loved to have had a threesome. There’s this chick at church. One fine piece of ass. And did you ever see a picture of the Botkin girls. Pretty cute. What I wouldn’t give to see them in a lace bustier and their bright nipples…

Under1000: Mrs. H., you’re actually saying some rather provocative things. You seem to have a real desire for women.

Mrs. John H: Me? Oh, no. I’m a good, submissive wife. I submit and he climbs on me and every single fucking time I get pregnant. How would you like to be pregnant most of your goddamn life?

Under1000: I don’t have any children…

Mrs. John H: My womb is fucking falling out. I’m so stretched out that you could drive a car up there.

Under1000: Maybe I should go.

Mrs. John H: Then he comes home and sits in his study with his ministry. What the fuck? I found him online looking at porn one day. I don’t care. Whatever keeps him off me is all I can say.

Under1000: I thought porn was not allowed in a fundamentalist household.

Mrs. John H: Neither is masturbation, but let me tell you something, if it weren’t for my crucifix vibrator I’d never get off, you know what I’m saying? (laughs)

Under1000: Let’s get back to how you spend your day, shall we?

Mrs. John H: (snoring)

Under1000: Mrs. H.?

Mrs. John H: (snoring)

I let myself out. It was a pleasure to talk with Mrs. John H. and learn about the hectic but rewarding life of a Godly woman of virtue. Stay tuned for more insightful interviews by your investigative team here at Under1000BrainCells.

Ask Aunt Fundie

With the demise of our favorite blog we’ve decided to institute a new and exciting feature here at Under1000BrainCells – Ask Aunt Fundie. We ask a collection of demure ladies of virtue to answer all your calls for advice. We are confident that you will find much of value in what these daughters of God have to say.

Dear Aunt Fundie,


I’m a stay at home daughter of 42. I love to serve my family and reverence my father. I spend time playing the harp, reading scripture, and honing my domestic skills for when the one God intended for me finds me to bring me to his castle to be under his authority. However, neither of my parents are believers and don’t seem to understand that I need my father’s protection. Almost every day they ask when I’m going to grow up, get a job and move out. My father even orders me out of the bathroom when I attempt to shave him. In fact, last week I came home from a refreshing nature walk to find the locks changed on the house. I had to climb in the basement window to get back inside. I’ve been living in the basement without their knowledge. How can I make them understand that God wishes me to stay at home until I find a Godly marriage?


Signed,
Squatting in the Lord


Dear SITL,


Many times our parents think they know best but their heads are turned by a secular world that does not support ladies such as you in their walk with the Lord. I would take this opportunity to pray for your parents, that God might turn their hearts towards Him. In the meantime, I implore you to not leave the basement. But you can use this time in confinement to hone some of the skills that you’ll need when you do emerge and find a loving husband. Why not use old Christmas wrapping paper to paper the walls of the basement? Just because you are squatting in your parents’ home doesn’t mean you can’t still work as a daughter of God. When your parents are at work, take time to climb out the window and scrounge for food – which will help you to stay frugal. Remember that every time you climb in or out you are working your arm muscles – a must for a warrior of God. Stay strong and do not let them break your will for you are a child of God first and foremost.

Dear Aunt Fundie,


I am nineteen and am engaged to a wonderful, Godly man. We had a traditional courtship and are very excited about starting a new life and possibly a new family together. My mother has taken the time to teach me how to run a home with grace and in the glory of God. I can sew, bake, cook from scratch, decorate, do my crafts and I love to be surrounded by little ones. The only area in life in which she has not counseled me is what happens my wedding night and thereafter. I understand the mechanics of intimate relations but I am unsure as to what are accepted practices in a Godly marriage. Help!


Signed,
Hot to Trot for the Lord

Dear HTTFTL,


This is a very common concern of young ladies. Especially those who have limited knowledge of what is expected of a willing and submissive wife. Let me start by saying that once you are married you are the vessel of your husband, whether it be carrying his children in your glorious womb or submitting to his need for pleasure. Be happy that God has designed your body and his to glorify Him through coming together physically. Don’t be ashamed of expressing love and your commitment to Jesus by engaging in a variety of love acts with your husband. Some accepted practices include Dirty Sanchez, Donkey Punch, Doggie Style, the Tony Danza, Golden Shower, Cleveland Steamer and Pulling a Train. If you are unfamiliar with these terms, find a wise woman to counsel you. Just know that when you’re being doused with urine while tied up with leather and your husband is whipping you with a flounder you are expressing your love for Jesus. Praise be!

Dear Aunt Fundie,


I have been married to a wonderful man for three years. We have never used birth control as we wish as many blessings as God sees fit to send us. However, we have never conceived. Concerned, we contacted a doctor who informed us that we are infertile. I am so despondent. What do I do?


Signed,
Barren in Boise

Dear BIB,


As you know, a QF woman’s worth is only determined through the usefulness of her womb and the number of blessings she expels. Therefore, you are a complete and total failure as a woman. Without a multitude of children how do you know that your life is full and rich? Sure, you can have hobbies, friends, family and the love of a good, Godly man, but unless your womb is stretched like a pair of leggings on a fat chick you know that you are not fulfilling the only role created for you. I feel for your situation though I am abundant in children, having 118 blessings of my own. In fact, I am so blessed that my womb often falls out as I walk down the street. I scoop it up, stuff it back in (in a ladylike fashion) and feel so honored that God has tortured my ladyparts in this way. As we ATIers don’t believe in adoption as the adopted child will bring their birth parents’ sin into your home, I guess you have nothing left to live for. Good luck!

Feel free to leave question for Aunt Fundie to answer in future posts. May the good Lord be with you and may your womb flutter with delight.

Miss Em is on Frugal Hacks Today

Telling us how we can spruce up a child's bedroom.

Now that Emily isn't blahging as much, the future of this blog is kind of in the air. I'd like to keep it open because there is some funny stuff here, mostly by Gizmola, and a lot of the commenter's were very clever and witty in their responses as well.

I may do the odd Emily post when she posts on her Lint site (the thought if her fermented belly button makes me throw up a little in my mouth) and I have a couple of Ode to Emily recipes I'd like to do with pictures.

Gizmola has offered to continue with her brilliant parody writing on other trainwrecks as well. So we will still get to enjoy her hilarious parodies, and maybe once in awhile she'll do an Emily one as well :)

So, what do you think of that for a future direction? Any ideas that you would like to see? I'm sure Emily won't be able to remain quiet long, and we will have plenty more stuff soon, but in the meantime, we'll see how we roll ;) or I should maybe do it like this...(;

Pardon any grammar, spelling mistakes or typo's, I'm off to purge more stuff from my house.

How Has Emily Inspired You?

Looking at the filth and clutter in the Apartment of Horror's inspired me to declutter and redecorate.

So far I have cleaned out my bedroom and repainted the walls and ceiling. I bought new curtains to match my bedding, and we got the dog a new dog bed for the room as well. It matches our bedding. Too bad he doesn't use it and still sleeps with us. It looks good though. I just need to go through my closet and purge. That is waiting until spring though because the closet is huge and I need to take everything out, wipe it down and repaint in there as well.

Last week I repainted my ancient kitchen. We have a horrible, old kitchen and it won't be gutted until we can pay cash for a reno. I stripped wallpaper, painted walls, sucked up cobwebs, went through every cupboard and did a massive purge. Today I have to touch up paint on the dinged up old cupboards and then I'm done! Oh, and I also bought fresh new towels and cloths, and a cute new rug. Hubby also put in a new to us double sink.

After the touch ups are done on the cupboards, I'm moving onto the dining room and will be stripping paper, painting walls and trim, and hanging fresh new curtains.

Emily also inspired me to break out the cookbooks and try some new recipes as well.

Emily's Explanation

There has been some questions and speculation about why I took down my blog. It’s very simple: the FBI suggested that I take it down in order to redesign and rename it so that those attempting to destroy me will not have fodder for their reign of terror. I will be back and better under a new name: Frugal Fruitloop Tips by Emily.


In the meantime, I will have time to catch up on my projects and further our PLAN. Things I will be doing include:

Cooking

I will be honing my cooking skills by trying new and diverse recipes. I have a recipe for gloodle pie. I will make a gloodle dough, put it in the crockpot to rise and then fill it with tube meat and four year old spices. I will then put another layer of soaked grain gloodle dough on top and brush it with whey. Once it is doughy I will serve it to my family with a 1/8 of spaghetti squash. Total cost: $0.75.

Crafting

Since my homemade fabric hammock was such a hit, I will show how you can use men’s underwear stapled to the wall in order to make a handy toothbrush holder. I will also show how you can hang desk lamps from the ceiling with a collection of your husband’s stuffed animals to make a festive light when your regular light is broken and you don’t want your landlord to see the hovel you live in. We will also staple cardboard to the wall for a fun, homemade chalk board.

Organization

This will be a wonderful use of my time so that I can share new and exciting tips with my readers. These will include putting your perishable items in the fridge, putting canned goods in the kitchen cabinets and keeping toilet paper in the bathroom cabinet. This is all part of my goal to have a self-cleaning house. These are invaluable tips that come from my own brilliant mind and I know you’ll be so grateful that I am sharing them with you.

Family Time

We will have more family time since I will not be on the computer twenty hours a day deleting comments and fighting the evil cronies. I will be able to notice that Bobby now likes to lick the lead paint walls, that Daniel only walks in circles and remember that Thomas exists. I will remember to feed them periodically and perhaps get their names straight. Hopefully, we can put Thomas in a Rubbermaid bin every now and then so Dna and I can make the next child. It’s hard to get some good lovin’ when the baby is in the bed; we keep rolling over on top of him but then he cries so we know we’re smushing him.

Travel

We can indulge our love of travel and do more of it as a family. We can load Therese, Cassie and Brad in the car with the children and travel to the Dollar Tree for a fun field trip. While there I can purchase more lights for the desk light in the bathroom and some tube meat which I will turn into sausage but putting pepper in it. This is our preferred means of vacation.

Gardening

I will incorporate new gardening techniques by growing mold on Brad and harvesting it to add to my floor cheese for a great nutritional punch. I will sprout weeds in the kitchen garden that we will add to our three spring onions for a light salad. I will learn about how I can sprout birdseed until it has a tail in order to add nutrition to my family’s diet. We will continue with our lettuce cans, our kefir and add to our gallons of whey.

More importantly, I will keep writing as my genius at writing blog posts must be expressed. Then I will have a whole lot of posts to enter into my new blog and keep my faithful readers happy. I know that you’ll miss me and my incredible tips. I only hope you can keep your homes together until I get back.

Please keep us in your prayers during this difficult time. This is probably the worst time in my life, even worse than when my child (don’t remember which one) fell into a coma. I will still fight the evil that comes by way as only Satan could turn someone’s heart against me and my family.

Love,
Emily

Emily's Belly Button

Thanks to the sleuth's who found our favorite fundy. http://emilysbellybutton.blogspot.com/

Looks like she won't be giving it up after all, she's just going to use the Belly Button site (wonder if she can still get BlogHer ads there) and contribute to Frugal Hacks on Wednesday's.

I call BS that she begged Dan to let her close it. She was practically bubbling with excitement about a series of posts on decorating the Room of Horror's on Sunday.

I think Dna made her shut it down.

No More Emily

OK, so as everyone knows by now, Emily's blog is gone. We don't know if it is permanent, or if this is another publicity stunt. Emily deleted it once before and then came back and said someone hacked her account.

Yesterday morning she posted her daily drivel, and was talking about plans for future blog entries so whatever happened was rather sudden.

I don't think she expected the backlash for barking at the comment Lori left her. Emily accused Lori of commenting here (BTW, I don't recall Lori ever posting here) and I think her comments heated up because of that. I think she really got a lot of heat too for her contest for the Room of Horrors that wasn't really a contest. Emily had her plans before she posted that, and she came up with a good lie of why she chose #3 even though her readers didn't vote for it.

I have a Gloodle Ravioli post that I was going to do some day this week, but other than that, I think we'll just keep this open in case Emily resurfaces somewhere on the net. Giz might have some posts she wants to publish, but I'm not sure. I'll keep this blog here, but it's doubtful that there will be many postings without the Snippy Fundie around.

If you have any info, Tweets, or Facebook messages that you want to share, or any insider info as to what happened, post away.

How Emily Wiggles Out of Her Lie

Emily says that the voting for the contest to redesgn the Room of Horrors closed on Friday night with entry number 1 way in the lead. She sent Nicole the $25 gift card for that design.

However, she wrote in the contest post that she didn't want this to be a popularity contest, but that is what it quickly became when the Braincells blog (she calls it the "anti-me" site, LOL) encouraged people to vote for #1. Oddly enought though, she says, her readers really liked #3. She asks "Why is it fair for people who don't like me to got to decide the fate of my children's room when I was giving the choice over to my readers, who went for entry #3?"

There were 63 comments, and 19 of those comments were for entry #3, and only 13 were for #1. She doesn't say how many comments she rejected though.

The other comments were a mix of support for other entries and general suggestions.

She says there was a recurring suggestion to combine 1 and 3, so that is what she is doing. When has she ever taken any suggestions before?

She says she is still trying to figure out the spacing of the four-tier stack 'em up bunk beds, and she is thinking of actually making it three tiered with a trundle. We all know what Emily considers a trundle don't we?

She also says that since it is unclear who would have actually won the contest without interference from our little Blog here, she sent a $5 gift card to the submitter of #3. Emily is a generous one isn't she?

Mattresses, Mattresses, Mattresses

She says that as some of her readers that keep up with the gossip forums know, she received a mattress from a reader. She says sending something for her boys was a kind gesture, but she is building the bunks to different dimensions. They plan to keep Thomas in their filthy bed until he is ready to join the stackable children in the big boy bed. Thus, she says she is selling the mattress and will put the money towards the boys' room.

Never once does she say thanks.

The entries were...

Entry #1 - Nicole H

Entry #2 - Christena

Entry #3 - Andrea M

Entry #4 - Emily (Funder Woman ~Thanks for that phrase to an Anon here!) The entry that only got 11 votes, and she can't say it was because we knew who it was, because I think most of us thought that heres was number three. SHe was really pushing for #3.

Entry #5 - Patty's husband

She plans on doing an idea roundup with the rest of the submissions that didn't make the final five cut. She may even turn it into a short series! Also she says that if those who submitted have a blog, to email her for some "linky-love" so when she showcases those ideas she can send people to their blog so they can see some other neato thoughts and ideas.

Edited to add, her first four commenters are saying they voted for #1 and are disappointed in how she ran the contest.

Emily replies with...


I have no doubt that there were genuine readers who voted for #1 because they liked the design or the beds, but I am not sure it would have won if it hadn't been for interference. If every single person who voted for #1 told me their reasons, that wouldn't change the fact that the contest was tampered with.
February 28, 2010 7:53 AM

This should be an interesting day for the comments. Unfortunately it looks like Em disable the comment feed. Guess it impacted her hits.

Miss Emily's Internet Etiquette Guide

Apparently, no one was creative enough to understand how inventive stapling dusty, crusty sheets to the wall was. Doesn’t anyone understand how frugal it is to take some old fabric, a cheese-crusted skirt or a homebirthed sheet and use it to make a hammock? Instead, I’m bombarded with comments about how messy my house looks, how ugly my project is and how I’m somehow rude because I put that bitch Lori in her place.

Therefore, I feel I must post again today to go over some simple internet and blog etiquette rules. Since this is a way for me to express some of my great and unending knowledge, it may become a regular feature on my blog. Stay tuned!

Comments

Comments have nothing to do with your opinion. If you wish to tell me how wonderful I am, how creative and original, and how you have learned so much from me, then go ahead and comment. Those are all appropriate responses. If, however, you have anything to say that is in opposition to anything I wrote or think, you need to keep it to yourself. Obviously, you are a bitter spinster bitch who has a barren womb because she is evil. Or, you spend all your time on sites that tear me down and spread evil lies about me. In that case, I’m perfectly within my rights to tell you how horrible you are and cast aspersions on your character. I have added examples of good and bad comments since most of you are obviously too dense to know the difference.

Good: “Emily, you are such an inspiration and a blessing! I have learned so much about homekeeping and the domestic arts. I am 79 years old, a farmer’s wife who has grown her own food her whole life. I have three healthy, strapping sons who grew up eating fresh veggies from our garden, our own slaughtered beef and with their own rooms in our fine farmhouse. Until I read your blog I thought I was a good wife and mother. Now I know how I failed my family by not lacto-fermenting everything and by using doors instead of fabric stapled to the doorway. You are so terrific, knowledgable, gracious, amazing, perfect and inventive. You are my hero. I have built a shrine out of Rubbermaid totes, complete with a Cabbage Patch Kid covered in mildew (we hung her from the bathroom for a month) to represent you. You are a godsend, an angel on earth and I only wish you had been around when I was raising my sons to learn from your genius. In Jesus’ name, I worship you.”

As you can see, this commenter recognized the ministry to which I’ve been called through my blog. It is God’s will that I share my story, my life and my brilliance with others. Only from my example will we learn how to be exemplary mothers, wives and children of God.

Bad: “Emily, do you really think it’s a good idea for the boys to sleep next to a half-empty gasoline container? That seems kind of dangerous.”

Can you see how she is tormenting me? Trying to destroy me? Can’t you see the judgment and the evil in her comments? She completely ignores the sentence in my post where I state that the gas container is made of biodegradable substances and that it is right near the heating vent so the fumes are being disippated throughout the apartment. Does she really think that I hadn’t researched the feasibility and the safety of leaving containers of highly flammable liquids near my children? This woman obviously only reads Free Jinger and Under1000BrainCells and is now in cahoots with those goddamn bitches who are set on ruining my life by insisting that my children need real beds, fresh fruit and vegetables and, seriously – oatmeal! They think it’s okay to eat oatmeal and I’m supposed to listen to them? Any comment such as the one above will be deleted immediately. I may let a few through but only so I can point out their stupidity and their lack of character.

Forums

I do not believe in forums. I think any site dedicated to talking about blogs, tv shows, world events, celebrities or philosophy are breeding grounds for people of low self-esteem and no morals. The only reason anyone would go on a forum is to tear someone else down. I don’t believe that they want to discuss, share ideas, understand or just make each other laugh. There is only evil intent in any forum. Of course, I comment on frugal forums, but that’s only to drive traffic to my blog so I can make $5000 a month in blog earnings and then use that money to buy a collection of Port-A-Potties which I will weld together to build a sustainable home for my family. I know there is a forum (which shall not be named) that is dedicated to ruining my life. They take what I say and twist it, making people believe that I don’t believe in doctors for my children, that my husband is starving and that I am an ungracious lady. I’d write more about this but Daniel has been sleeping the last two weeks and I need to turn him over so he doesn’t get bedsores. No, we’re not taking him to the doctor. He’ll wake up someday. And Dna has fallen over again from hunger so I have to give him some nourishing kefir water. As for those at the FJ forums, fuck you! See, I’m a lady!

Plagiarism

Plagiarism is very serious. It is when someone takes your amazing ideas and incredibly inventive writing and posts it as if they wrote it. That is wrong, illegal and moral bankrupt. I have been the innocent victim of plagiarism. I have contacted the FBI to fight this crime. I have left forty-seven messages for them. I’ve sent three hundred and eighty-seven emails to the FBI. I’m sure they are too busy investigating my injustice to respond. The one time I got someone on the phone, they laughed. They knew it was crazy that anyone could pass off my original ideas of a magazine rack, egg-cracking family time, or gloodle recipe as their own. I am famous as an innovator and I will not take this theft of my intellectual property lying down. I will make sure they are stopped. I will not name the blog that is stealing my life’s work, but let me say that they are also a bunch of evil bitches who are just jealous because I’m married to a brilliant man, have three wonderful children and live in a completely original home.

Cyber-bullying

This is probably the most important part of what I have to say. I am the victim of cyber-bullying. People write mean things about me in a forum, on a blog and send me comments. I have even been stalked by someone who sent me a mattress, therefore invading my privacy, which, of course, I had already given up by posting my personal information all over the internet. Cyber-bullying is wrong. For those who haven’t lived with this horror, cyber-bullying is when people disagree with you, tell you so and make fun of you. Can you imagine living in such a hell? It is not fun and it will not be tolerated. I will take the appropriate legal steps with the help of my premier internet lawyer to stop these travesties. If people will not be good enough to support me, love me and build my fragile self-esteem by being unfailingly positive and fawning then I will take steps to ensure that happens. I will not just stop blogging about rice maggots and floor-cheese. They cannot break my will. If I haven’t given in to Dna begging for new teeth and something other than tube meat I will not give in to those who seek to destroy me.

I hope I have cleared up some glaring problems I’ve noticed. I expect that not only will you be amazed, surprised and educated by what I’ve written but you will also seek to join me in my fight against the hordes of people who are too stupid to recognize my genius. I can be reached at Emily@frugalfruitloop.com. You can also comment here about how wonderful I am. If you do not, I will delete your comment and put your name on my list. You do not want to be on my list. Dna was on my list once and I put his dvds in Cassie the Crockpot and threatened to melt them. You do not want to be on my list.

Hammocks

Today is boring again. The Feaky Fundy is running out of material. Today she tells us how to staple fabric to the wall to creat hammock's for stuffed animal and cheese making skirts.

Any guesses what color the fabric is?

She isn't allowed to paint, but she can taple and nail stuff up and put in bicycle hooks all over the place.

Boring.

Fundy FAQ Friday

The Question Emily will address today is...

How Did You Meet Your Husband?

First, Emily wants to say that she loves Fock You Friday because a lot of times it's a fun excuse for her to spout her religious views in a blog where they otherwise don't fit. Other times, it let's her share something personal and fun, like how she met Dna.

Emily says that after highschool, Dna went to state college for a few classes easch semester [I find this incredibly hard to believe. I'm not American, but I imagine your real schools would require better writing and communication than Dna possesses] Emily says he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life [An aimless man is prime snagging material, pay attention ladies, Emily is telling you how to real in a controllable mayun] Dna only went to college for one year, she doesn't say if he passed any of his classses, and then his mother got deathly ill, like planning the funeral ill. She's still alive, but she never fully recovered [Anyone else remember when Dna was Facebooking and wondering aloud if his mother was being poisoned? Weird] So, Dna put his life on hold for a few years to care for her, and then decided to go to Babble College.

Em took a year off school after high school, and then found Babble college, where she felt God wanted her. Emily doesn't say what she did with that year off though.

"I was a fresman and he was a senior"

In Babble College everything was structured and there was a strict dress code and rules about when you could hang out with the opposite gender. There was a no hand holding rule, no touching, and no pokes rule.

Dna remembers first seeing his future go in the toilet, er, I mean Emily during a freshmen orientation called "The Get to Know You Session."

Emily first remembers seeing Dna at the supper table, that was the only meal where they had free seating instead of assigned seating. They struck up a conversation about what brought them to Babble College and what the will of God was for their lives. Dna vividly recalls their conversation ending with Emily saying "Well, I know that the will of God for me right now is to clean dishes."

They ran into each other a few times around campus [God, this is getting boring, she can't even tell the story of how she met her partner with any flair, I hope it picks up soon. ] They sometimes sat together at supper, chapel or softball, they both played softball. [Back when Dna had food and energy to play softball that is, now he looks like he'd break if he tried to swing a bat] They both also vividly [There's that word again, I think she likes it] recall sitting at a bonfire at the home of some married students. They sat there for hours, until curfew talking about theology, dreams and family.

Emily says that Dna impressed her but that she wasn't looking for a relationship at that time. She went to Babble College to grow closer to God, not to find a husband. She felt she needed to distance herself from him, so she even hid from him in a coat closet once [ I bet Dna wishes their Apartment of Horrors had a closet so he could be the one to hide from her now] So finally she decided to have a long reflection period with God while she was avoiding Dna and she saw that she was closer to God when she was with Dna, and that God was blessing their budding friendship.

So Dna's best friends fiance was in charge of seating arrangements an she pulled some strings so Em and Dna could sit together at meals. At the Babble college there was a divide among single students and couples. She says no one liked it that way, but that's the way it was and some of the students at their table griped about a couple getting to sit together.

Dna asked Emily what she thought of others refering to them as a couple, and she said she liked it. Not long after that they became an official couple, meaning he called her mom and asked permission. Emily's dad didn't want to be called because he's a bit of a feminist. [Rock on Emily's Dad, Woohoo!]

So, that is how they met and fell in love, and she is lucky to have him, and she's thankful that he feels the same way about her.

Okay, that was the most boring How we Met story ever. I didn't read it to the end and then start typing, I started typing as I was reading it, and I thought it would become interesting somewhere along the line, but it never did. Giz's Parody of how they met is much better.

The Snippy Little Princess: A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a rather average looking princess named Emily. She had grown up in a fine castle atop a rolling hill and her father, the King, was a king of great warmth and knowledge and was very beloved by all of his people. The Queen was also quite popular for she was very beautiful with flowing dark hair that rippled in sumptuous curls down her back. Usually the King let the Queen have her way for he was very much in love with her dancing eyes and delicate touch and the Queen was quite spoiled for having her way so very much. But the Queen also loved him deeply so they were very, very happy.

The one person the queen cared for least just happened to be her own daughter. Unfortunately, for Emily, the Queen was very concerned about remaining young, beautiful and slender. When she realized she was with child the Queen had been so upset she took to her bedchamber for four whole days. Nothing could rouse her from her bed. The King sent for every doctor from every corner of his vast kingdom but none of them could bring the warm blush back to the Queen’s cheeks. It wasn’t until the King himself threw himself next to her bed, pledging love for her beyond anyone else and that he vowed to throw himself off the tallest castle tower if she did not come back to him did she rouse herself from the bed and happiness reigned again in the kingdom.

Once the baby was born the King and Queen were eager to see their golden child, excited to be parents. However, when they saw it was a girl, their happiness dimmed. Oh, they loved their daughter with her soft brown hair and deep velvet eyes. But the entire kingdom was hoping for a son, for an heir. The young girl was named Emily Kate and handed off to a nurse while her parents took celebratory trips through their lands.

Emily Kate grew up a lonely child, eager for company. However, being the King’s only daughter had caused her to adopt a rather imposing personality. She was exacting and literal, quite sure that she, above all others, was correct. Governesses and tutors tried to explain things to her, to bring her down to earth for no matter how beloved the King and Queen were, they were always unfailingly kind and polite. Their daughter, however, became a terror to those who knew her. She corrected her tutors, lectured her governesses, she was rough on her riding ponies, and she was very imperious with all the other children brought to the castle to play with her. She insisted on playing only games she wanted to play and she was very cruel to children who disagreed. Pretty soon most of the nobles would not send their children to play with the little princess and so she grew up very lonely. Her parents were often away seeing the people in their kingdom so they were not able to see a lot of their daughter, though they loved her very much and made sure she was well taken care of while they were gone.

Princess Emily Kate grew up into a pretty young lady though her eyes never lost the hard and imperious look from childhood. A few princes came to call, eager to be accepted into the beloved King’s family. However, the princess was not so welcoming to them. The King and Queen had fallen in love and were determined to let Princess Emily Kate make her own decision about marriage. They became dismayed when prince after prince failed to win her hand. One prince was turned down because he played the flute and Princess Emily only liked the harp. Another prince was turned down because he rode a white horse and Princess Emily only liked brown horses. The King and Queen didn’t know what to do with their willful daughter.

Then one day Princess Emily purposed to walk down to the seashore, a great distance from the castle. Accompanied by a weary lady-in-waiting, the princess galloped faster and faster down the hill and through the fields towards the sandy shore in the distance. In an instant her horse neighed and bucked and she was thrown. Luckily, she landed in a vast field of heather and was unhurt though shaken. As she looked up and caught her breath she saw the dusty boots of a farmer standing before her. She gazed upwards, the words of rebuke for having dusty boots in her presence when she saw his shining blue eyes.

“Hello,” he said, “what happened?”

“I fell off my horse,” she grumbled, trying to rise.

“You may have been hurt,” he said and knelt down to caution her.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. Though when she arose a pain shot through her ankle. She crumpled against the farmer’s strong hands.

“You’re hurt, come here,” he said as he swung her in his arms. The lady-in-waiting rode up, shocked to see the princess in the arms of a common farmer. She slid from her horse and followed them, holding her embroidered skirts high above the plowed field.

The farmer took Princess Emily inside a tiny shack, smaller than her closet and laid her on a small couch fashioned from a wood plank, bales of hay and a straw filled cushion. He gently removed her satin shoe and felt her ankle. Warmth spread through her as she felt his hands and for the first time she felt relaxed. He took sprigs of flowers and herbs she did not know and made a bandage, tucking the blossoms inside.

“This will help with swelling,” he said.

“I should see a doctor,” she decided, and then turning towards her lady-in-waiting, “Send for Dr. Butler immediately.”

“Don’t,” said the farmer, “you don’t need that.” His firm voice stopped her and she indicated that the lady-in-waiting should not leave.

“How do you know this?” she asked.

“I just do,” he said.

Something bubbled up in the princess as she looked around the tiny shack. It was barely six feet by eight feet. A small cabinet holding a few cracked plates hung above a washbasin and a counter. A small fireplace with a soot stained pot was to the left of the cabinet. A table with two chairs was in front of it. Nothing else was in the shack but the couch upon which she laid and which was quite different than the down filled beds and silk sheets she was used to. Yet, somehow, she felt more at home in this dusty little shack than she did in the beautiful castle.

Within a short period of time she felt better and he carried her back to her horse, where he placed her atop and smiled at her before sending her back.

For days she rode the same trail, hoping to see him but if he was working the fields, he did so far from where she had been before.

She wandered the castle, eschewing the meats and vegetables laid out on the golden dinner plates and ignored the rich red wine in the crystal goblets. She started wearing quite plain clothes with nary a golden thread or a bit of lace. She stared out the window for hours, gazing down towards the seashore.

When the King and Queen returned from their trip they were aghast at the change their daughter had gone through. No longer vibrant but overburdened, she was a ghost at their table. She grilled the cook about what the cook ate at home and insisted on being served gruel in the morning, a slice of fried meat and coarse bread at lunch and some fish head broth at dinner. Her parents begged her to eat the beef, the roasted potatoes, the fresh tomatoes but she refused.

One fine morning, as the sun peeked in through the light gossamer curtains, the princess approached her parents at the breakfast table. She wore, as usual, a simple dress of coarse brown linen, her feet clad in unpolished shoes. Her mother dropped her china cup when the Princess announced that she had found the man she was to marry.

Expecting a foreign prince or at least a well-connected man of aristocracy, the King was furious she announced that she would marry instead a simple farmer who lived below the hill on the ridge overlooking the ocean. He threw his glass, his plate and tore his napkin. The Queen sobbed into her own lace trimmed napkin and begged her daughter to reconsider. The King vowed that the farmer would be put in jail for seducing his daughter. The daughter swore she would never see her parents again and ran from the castle, the King’s thundering voice following her.

She ran down the hill as fast as she could, not caring as her dress, her only possession, was torn by the thick brambles. She found the plowed field but didn’t find him standing outside. She traversed the field carefully and trembled slightly as she knocked on the door.

He opened it and his eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak and was astounded when she walked in, uninvited. But, since she was a princess, he thought he shouldn’t tell her not to do so.

“I think we should marry at your church, not at the castle’s chapel,” she said, turning to face him.

“Marry?” he asked.

“Yes. Of course. Don’t you want to marry me?” she demanded in the haughty voice for which she was famous.

“Um…I…well, I don’t really…”

She interrupted him, “Okay, that’s settled,” she turned to look around, “So what have you to eat?”

He could not speak and instead pointed at the bowl of stew on the table. It was made with vegetables from his garden, with the results of his skillful hunting and the aroma made his mouth water as he had just started on it.

“Oh, you can’t eat that,” she said, tipping the bowl’s contents out the window, “I don’t really know how to cook, but that can’t be good for you. That smelled like something my parents would’ve made me eat.”

He glanced around, half expecting to see the venerable old King and his lovely Queen, but they were quite alone in the room. He watched as Princess Emily pulled out a bag of cornmeal and some dried grass seed. She poured a cupful of each into a earthen bowl and filled it with a bit of the cream he had saved as a late morning treat.

“There,” she said, “we’ll let that sit for a few days and then it will be good enough to eat.”

“But that’s the cornmeal for the chickens who lay my eggs. And the grass seed is for the birds that flutter in the back flower garden,” he protested.

“Then it’s good enough for us,” she declared, while she stripped the yellow curtains off the windows.

He didn’t know what else to do. After all, she was a princess so she must know better than him, a simple farmer. He did the only thing he knew to do: he went back to working in the field.

Later that evening, after shushing his requests for food, she combed his hair with a comb dipped in the well water and they walked to the church by his home. Without even realizing what was happening, they were married.

That night she snuggled next to him on the straw filled mattress, whispering the things she had learned from an indiscreet downstairs maid when she had been eavesdropping as a child. He was amazed but did as she instructed. Pretty soon he realized that he would do anything possible to continue to do that again and again.

The King and Queen sent emissaries to the little shack. They sent bundles of silk dresses, which she used to make rooms in the little house, preferring to wear the same coarse dress she had arrived in. They sent crates of food which she threw out the back to the animals, though it made the poor farmer very sad. She refused to talk to her parents, stating that they didn’t understand her and never had.

Even when she gave birth to their first child she refused to see them. The farmer loved his little son and called him Daniel. He taught him to fish, to ride a horse, to feed the chickens. Princess Emily, however, spent most of her time writing on parchment, sending her notes far and wide throughout the kingdom. The farmer knew to be on his best behavior when her notes were returned with dissenting opinions. On a few nights he and Daniel spent the night in the chicken coop where it was not only warmer but quieter.

A second son arrived. And then a third. The farmer suggested that since she was good with advice and made many coins with it they should expand their little home. The fury that erupted was not something he wished to see again and so he simply made another straw filled mattress for the baby.

Sometimes he thought he simply didn’t understand much. Much of what his wife did seemed odd to him. She wouldn’t let him eat anything before soaking it in the whey from the cheese she made. Even fresh vegetables and fruits he picked for them were soaked before they were eaten. He had brought home rice once and she soaked it in lye water for three weeks before he could eat it. Many a day in the field he had to stop for a moment because he was weak from hunger. But no matter what he said she clung to her cooking.

Then one day a letter came from the King. This time it was addressed to the farmer and was delivered in secret by an emissary from the King. The farmer was poor and illiterate so he took it to the priest to read. The priest read the letter to him and the farmer was amazed because the King had heard of their troubles and offered them lodging in the castle and acceptance into the family for the boys were still the grandsons of kings even if they were the sons of a simple farmer.

The farmer walked home with a heavy heart. He knew that Emily would not want to go back to the castle. He saw the dim light of the castle in the distance and thought of the foods and warmth, of the security and knew he could no longer deny that chance to his three boys, as he watched them grow smaller and more slender each day.

Just as he made up his mind a small elf popped up from behind a tree and greeted him with a low bow.

“Hello, kind sir, I see you are making a great wish,” twittered the spry elf.

“How did you know?” asked the farmer.

“Because I am a heart elf. I can see your heart’s desire. I know all that’s happening inside you. I only reveal myself when someone is in true need.”

“Yes, I am in need. I don’t know what to do,” lamented the farmer with tears in his eyes.

The elf pulled out a small vial filled with a light purple liquid. His eyes twinkled as he handed it to the farmer with the greatest of care.

“This is from the Fountain of Forgetfulness. Two drops and whoever drinks it will forget who they are. It is usually used by those who are desperately unhappy and wish to start a new life.”

“But I can’t drink that,” said the farmer, “I don’t want to forget my boys.”

“Ah, I know! But you can give it to your wife. And if she forgets who she is she will forget who you are!”

A bright, gleaming light of understanding lit up the farmer’s face and he realized he had the means now of escaping his wife. He grabbed the vial and ran home.

That night, after an unsatisfying meal of grubworms and creamed dirt, he dropped four drops of the potion in the whey his wife drank at night. He wanted to be sure there was no mistake. He watched as her eyes went fuzzy and forgetfulness spread across her features.

“Who are you?” she asked.

His heart leapt. “No one,” he answered, “my boys and I were travelling and you gave us food for our long journey.”

“Oh, that was very nice of me,” said Emily.

“Thank you,” he said as he jumped up, scooped up his sons and headed for the door, their sleeping bodies pressed warm in his arms.

“I’m…I’m…I’m…well, I’m not sure,” she stammered.

“It’s okay, you were lovely. See you later!” he said as he ran out the door and up to the castle.

The King and Queen were very sad to hear about what had happened to their daughter but they could not deny their love for the three beautiful boys who became robust once they had the delicious food of the royal cook. The farmer charmed the King and Queen with his earnest ways and they found a young lady of good birth to marry him and be the mother to his dear boys.

Princess Emily stayed in the shack for the rest of her life. She grew stooped and skinny, a bag of bones in a torn dress. She rented the land around her shack and grew rich though no one in the kingdom could remember her spending a penny of it. Once in a while she walked to town, yelling at people along the way, proclaiming that she knew what she was talking about. Townspeople knew the tragic story and simply laughed while her back was turned. She bought rat tails to chew on and told everyone it was better to sleep outside in winter.

After one particularly long winter, she was found frozen, covered in straw in the little shack. Though she was buried quietly in the royal graveyard by her grieving parents, townspeople still do not go near the shack. They say that even now the smell of rotting milk and burned goat meat still lingers in the air.

And the farmer, his new wife and the boys lived happily ever after.

The End

A Wonderful Tutorial on How to Watch TV

Today Emily tells us that TV time is something that all parents need to consider. She's also going to tell you how she and Dna decided what was best for their family.

Emily says Dna used to watch hours of television a day before she came along, and that she had the potential to do the same [it's a good thing she has potential for something, 'cause it she ain't mother, or cook, or cleaner] At first they decided on one hour of TV a week and one movie a month, but then that changed to one hour of TV a day and one movie a week.

They each get one movie pick per month and one TV pick per week. They use their picks to pick something the other person may not like. The rest of the time Dna gets to pick because TV is his thing. If there is something Emily really wants to watch, she'll suggest it, and Dna will usually let her watch it. See, Emily is such a good submissive wife.

Dna works second shift two nights a week, and Emily could watch an hour of TV by herself, but she often forgets to. She likes The Office, Little Dna calls it "Michael" See, Emily does too have amusing stories about her children.

Emily and Dna started thinking about a TV policy when Little Dna was about a year old. They had a Baby Einstein video they would put on, but he wasn't interested. They decided that if he wanted to watch kid TV, They'd limit it to two hours a week, or roughly a half hour show each day Dna was at work.

Little Dna doesn't want to watch TV so she doesn't push it. Sometimes he'll suggest that they watch a Thomas movie tomorrow, but when tomorrow comes around, he doesn't mention it. She counts on Little Dna forgetting to ask to watch a movie, just like she counts on Big Dna to forget to ask for food. Every few weeks he'll ask to watch something today, so she puts it on, but he gets tired of watching. She's perfectly OK with that.

The kids are usually awake when Emily and Dna start watching TV at night, but they fall asleep (from lack of attention) And then wake up for a bedtime routine, which we know doesn't include baths, fresh jammies, or clean sheets. Hell, who am I kidding, it doesn't include sheets at all. She says this is an odd way to do things, but it works for them.

Oh yeah, and this is all done without a TV She has to make sure you know that she is too good for a TV ( I don't think there is anywhere left to hang one from actually, maybe on the tool pegboard?) Her physics teacher was on Survivor and her rabbit ears weren't cutting it, so she researched (everything is research with Em) and she found hulu and youtube. She also says they have a DVD collection. But remember folks, they don't waste money on DVD's.


Sorry I didn't publish this first thing this morning, but the frugal one hadn't posted her Daily Drivel when I got up. She was late this morning.

A Cry for Help by Dna

Deer Momm & Dda,

I know its been a long time sence I rote too you. Emiy took awae my pencels and paper after she caugt me writeing to the department of Child servises wanting help. I only have a craon to write with now so thats why this looks weyrd.

Thank you for sending me the pakage of fuud to Walmart. I cant have it at home becase emiy does not lik when I eet Twinkys and slim jms. She maks me eet mor salsa and I don’t lik her salsa becauce it tastes lik feat. I shared som of the potatoe chips wit Booby and litle dna and they sed it was the best fuud they ever eetin. I keep the bocks in my loker at work. ha ha emiy!!

I am taking ecxtra clases at skool to help with my speling. Don’t tell Emiy. She thinks I am ok in writing and sed that if she catkches me workin in my work book she wil not mak me hot pokets any more. I reely lik hot pokets but I don lik Emiys a lot. The onez from the stor taste beter than hers.

litle dna is doin beter. He doesn’t sleepe as much and he is going to the pottee beter. Emiy doesn’t let him ware his pull on pants to bed and I am woried that he maks pee pe in the night but she sed its okay because it dryes okay. I am not shur. He stoped talking in a axecent. We thgought it was a funee joke but Emiy didn’t think it was funnee. But I thought if he did it she mieght tak him to doktor but she sed it wasn’t that bad so we stoped the axcent. I don’t know how to git him to the doktor because Emiy won’t let me drive the car agin. She sed it good for me to walk to work. I git reely dizzee because I don’t eet a lot.

All Emiy doez is write on enternets. She yells at compooter a lot and sasys no one understandse her. I trie to tell her to be nice lik I am on my blogg but she says it okay and that I am half of a whit. It maks me sad when she says that because I am trying to be very smart and good all the time but if I don’t agree with her she wont let me have anything but keefur water to drink. I don’t like keefur watyer. Can you send Montain due nesxt time?

I red about sumiisssion in bibel and I think Emiy needs to do whut I tell hur but she sed I am wrong. I talked to paster and he sed I am wright. I am vurry scared to tell her this bevcauce she sed if I sed that again she would git rid of Brad and he is my onlee frend. I am not alowed to talk to paster agin when I told her he sed I am the hed of the house. She doesn’t let me talk on phone or anything.

If I git to be hed of house I am going to:

Tak babees to dokter and mak shure they are okay.
Teake babees to teeth dokter and make shure they use flosses on teeth
Git rid of Keefur water (terese is dum name)
By lots of fruts lik bananas, orannges, greapes, strawbrees
No moure tube meet. We will eet leen meets.
I will by boxs of spagetti and no more gloodles
We will use ovin to mak breads
We will have otmeel agin
No rice magots with tales
We will give boys hour rroom.
I want boyz to have matreesses

Can you send me some monee so I can tak classes for speling and writing? I want boys to have good lifee and I love them. Or just call the peeple who tak care of childern and tell them to mak Emiy stop.

Luv,
Dna

P.S. send ho-hoes, mop and soap. House dirtee.

The Importance of Being Emily

When I started this blog it was merely to showcase my abundant talents, my incredible wealth of knowledge and connect with other people since no one in real life likes me and even my mother calls me a freakish wackadoodle. Of course, money was not at all a concern to me. (watch for my next Can You Make Money Blogging Post? Hint: I’ve made $20,000 this month alone. Which will be put aside so I can afford my own little extended cab pick up truck in which we will live.) I’ve shared my scrumptious recipes for gloodles and gummy hot pockets. I’ve illuminated my readers about the joys of tiny house living and how an unused laundry room can be a colorful, cluttered place of horrors for two small boys. I’ve explained how mattresses can kill people in an instant and shared the joys of pet ownership by exploring our unnatural relationship with kefir bacteria.

So I want to put this all together and post on what I think the recipe is for a happy life. I think my readers will be eternally grateful since most of them have empty and shallow lives and can only benefit from my genius.

Family

The most important part of life is family. I’m not talking about your parents or siblings. Obviously, if they are poor and have only half their teeth like Dan’s family, then they are a wonderful addition to your life. If they at all disapprove of your desire to lacto-ferment all your food until it is an unappetizing bit of sludge and letting your children play hide and seek in the fridge, then you’re better off cutting them out of your life. I know that my life has benefited from not talking to my mother and refusing all offers to give me access to my trust fund to buy clean sheets and mattresses for my children. She’s just a shallow, materialistic woman who doesn’t understand that living in squalor is part of our PLAN. She thinks that children need vegetables, doctors’ appointments and real toothpaste. She doesn’t approve of soap nuts, thinks Dan is a half-wit and believes that I’m throwing my life away. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. I will show her. I will keep hoarding money and keep denying my family anything that gives them joy because I grew up with money and an occasional Twinkie and fresh oven-baked bread and it did not make me happy. The only thing that makes me happy is being in complete control of every aspect of my life, from blog comments to writing Dan’s blog to how many ½ ounces of spaghetti squash my husband and children are allowed to share. I am in control now, Mother. Me. Not you. You cannot dictate my life any longer. You cannot force me to go to the dentist, invest in medical insurance, clean my sheets, sweep, wash dishes, eat lean beef or fresh fruit. I can do it all on my own. Do you hear me? I know what’s important in life and it does not include vacations, relaxation or love. Get it? I’m in control now. Me! Me! Me!

Children

Obviously, any woman who has an empty, cobwebbed womb is a poor excuse for a woman and devoid of any sense of purpose or happiness. The only reason we exist, according to the Bible, is to be fruitful with our loins. Children validate our existence, give us purpose and remind us that our lives are not empty and without value. When you don’t have a real education, any critical thought skills, scant knowledge about anything but crockpotting, talent for writing, talent for cooking, talent for cleaning, career goals, ability to hold down a job other than cashier at a grocery store or any friends whatsoever because everyone thinks you’re a total fruitloop with a bad attitude and bad lemony-scented B.O., you can at least look at the product of your womb and know that you have accomplished something. Of course, once you have let them slide out of your woman cave onto crusty sheets stained from the last home birth, you needn’t really do anything like feed them well, supply them with warm beds and clean blankets, watch to make sure they’re not playing with the power tools hanging on the wall, take them outside, play with them or engage them in any meaningful way. Just having created them is enough to know that you have value as a human being and as a woman. I feel sorry for those women who choose career, their own goals and their full lives of friendship, cocktails, travel, good food, education and personal fulfillment over children. How empty and lonely their pathetic lives must be.

Love

I love my husband, Dna. He is brilliant, kind, funny and sweet. He works hard at his job and even harder at school, especially since he has trouble spelling, writing, reading comprehension and critical thought. Of course, that doesn’t mean anything. He’s just a lazy typer. And not matter how many times he begs me to assist him in phonics and spelling I must remind him that he is fine just the way he is. Many times he has tried to take an extension course in composition to improve his writing skills. Usually I can talk him out of it by refusing to cook him hot pockets or promising him if he stops talking crazy talk like that then I will make him homemade gloodle Cheetos in the crockpot. To love someone is to control every aspect of their lives and have them totally dependent on you so that you feel important and in charge. That way they can never leave you because you are in the driver’s seat. Since I handle all of the money, the cooking, the cleaning (well, the moving around of the existing filth), and working towards THE PLAN, I can let Dna focus on his janitorial career and his schoolwork. Though most of the time I just tell him to color in his Lil’ Jesus & Friends coloring book and I do his schoolwork, write his blog, update his Twitter account and screen his calls so no one from work or school can interrupt him by being friendly with him. That’s love.

Friends

Many people say that friends are an important part of life. I believe that’s true. Though I am very, very selective about my friends. I don’t tolerate anyone who doesn’t believe exactly as I do. I am only friends with people who understand my own unique and completely insane way of life. Only those who validate every choice I make are my friends. Any friend of mine must tell me repeatedly how wonderful I am, how everything I do is perfect and wonderful and original. I cannot and will not accept anyone criticizing anything I do or say. Because I am perfect. Perfect damn it. Therefore, the only people I’m friends with are my blog commenters who tell me that I’m great and terrific. I don’t know their names, what they do, what they think because the only thing that matters is what I think and feel. If you don’t like that then I’ll just delete your comments.

A PLAN

You must have a PLAN for your future. There’s no point in living in the here and now. That doesn’t matter. For the time being you can force your children to sleep on dusty, pee-stained blankets in the middle of winter. You can live on kefir water. You can stuff your children under cribs in a room the size of a Port-A-Potty. You can stack clutter and filth up the ceilings. Because you are saving and planning for your PLAN. It’s very important to capitalize PLAN because the future dictates everything you do and nothing else matters. You must eliminate anything that might get in the way of THE PLAN. We plan on living in a hole in the ground covered by a tarp, eating jars of lacto-fermented salsa and staying warm by making suits of cardboard and newspapers. The children will have little bunkers carved out of the hole and they will be happy covered with molding leaves for warmth. We will make sure to keep our satellite radio and internet connection because those are still important to our PLAN. What good is enjoying today if that enjoyment interferes with THE PLAN?

That’s my recipe for a happy life. Anyone who doesn’t agree is a bitter, spiteful, evil, and sad, pathetic bitch who deserves unhappiness and ruin. If you don’t agree and tell me I know you’re only trying to destroy me. But you cannot. I am invincible because I have God and Jesus on my side.

The Fruit Loop Explains Why She Does What She Does

She asks... Who is one dimensional?

She says frugal people are not one dimensional.

She goes on to say that frugal people are stereotyped as going way (clever use of italics) out there to save a nickel. She also says that sometimes that is the case, it is rarely the only cause for going out of one's way.

Sometimes going out of one's way is just taking the scenic route.

Here's why she does things that are frugal...

FOR HER CONSCIENCE
Overconsuming resources means there are less resources for others, and this is a form of stealing. [Maybe she should stop breeding then]

TO TEACH HER KIDS
Emily and Dna believe in a strong work ethic and they want to demonstrate that to their kids [Emily certainly demonstrated to little Dna that her blog "work" was more important that him when she let him fall into a coma, good job Em!] And just because her work around the house is unpaid doesn't mean it has no value. [What work Emily? It's certainly not housework, or cooking real food. You throw a bunch of fermented shit in a crockpot and sit and wait for it to be ready. Or you run some moldy old milk through your dirty skirt and put it on the floor.]

TO LEARN
Emily says learning is huge for her and that knowledge is power. The more she learns to do for herself, the less she has to rely on others. Sometimes she only breaks even on the things she does, but she is becoming a more well rounded person because of this. [And Dna is becoming downright skeletal while you become more well rounded]

FOR FUN!!
There is so much she does just for fun! Sure the activities overlap, but fun is her primary motivation in making soap and sewing. [I wonder if she will make soap out of my Kevin, the Pet Bacon Fat? And by sewing does she mean those gothy black sheets she hangs and throws all over the furniture?]

FOR HEALTH
She says that many of the things she does to skim a few pennies off a meal also add massive amounts of nutritional value [Can we add delusional to our assesment of Emily?] She may or may not have done this for those few pennies, but no matter what their income in the future, she will continue to make food from scratch.

FOR THE PENNIES
Emily is God's steward of every penny He lays before her so she must take care of them. [Emily, I'm not a religious person, but don't you think He would want you to take care of the children He has given you and maybe he doesn't care so much about the pennies? Oh, and the 'h' is always capitalized when talking about Him. I notice you never do that. I'm a Godless Heathen and I know that. You should be GRATEful I told you that. You are welcome] She feels that she needs to think an awful lot about those pennies.

TO SAVE TIME
It takes less time to tumble in her Wonderwash than it does to go to the laundromat. [It apparently takes even less time to forego washing things altogether, as evidenced by her sheets and the boys' greige blankets. Just because it takes less time doesn''t mean you should do it that way] She has also brilliantly stated the freaking obvious again and says that it takes less time to brew coffee at home than it does to wait in line at Starbuck's. The more she does at home, the less obligated they are to earn money outside the home. [Yeah, because it's all about you and not about the children. Those kids will never be enrolled in Little League, or Scouts or anything, because that takes money.]

As she contemplates the many things she does such as line drying, making Gloodles, sprouting maggot rice, she realizes the reasons for doing these things are dynamic [ I bolded that because it looked like a great random word to bold] For each of those, at least five of the seven reasons factor in.

Then she asks "What other reasons do you have for doing the frugal things you do?"

I can answer that. The reason that my husband and I do frugal things is for our son. Nowhere in any of her resons did Emily ever mention that she does this for her kids. That was our primary reason, to give him better life. And so that he won't be stuck looking after us in our old age. Emily just plans to keep popping kids out hoping that one of them will take pitty on her neglectful ass and look after her and Dna in the future.

One of the main reasons we only had one child was because that was all we could afford and do it right. We could have spit out a quiverful of kids and neglected them like Em, but our goal as parents was to provide a fantastic life to a child.

Tuesday Crafts Corner

As I stated on a previous post, this blog takes most of my creativity. Therefore, I have been unable to express my many talents in other ways. I feel this is depriving my family of wonderful gifts so today I made a point of putting some time in on working on some crafts.
Lard Sculpture

Many people work in butter as a sculpture art form. We don’t believe in butter because the cows who gave the milk may have been feed GMO baking powder at some point (but don't bother emailing me about the possible GMO feed in our GROUND BEEF THAT DOES NOT COME IN FUCKING TUBES.) Therefore, I work in lard.

Lard is very easy to work in because it’s very flexible. I find that the best thing to do is to first freeze a chunk of it (14 oz $0.06) at a time wrapped in tin foil in the approximate shape you are going to want to work with.

Today I decided to make Jesus wearing Vulcan ears to please my husband. So I froze the lard in a long, cylinder shape. When I took it out, I used a vegetable peeler to carve out the face of Jesus with wonderful ears. Since we don’t eat vegetables that we need to peel as ours are all frozen from the Dollar Tree, this was a good way to use an item that usually sits in the kitchen drawer. I even carved markings on Jesus’s robes to indicate that he’s an Enterprise lieutenant.

Paper Maiche

This is very easy to do. First, I take whatever gloodles are left over from the night before and I reheat them in the crockpot with the trimmings from the lard sculpture. Once I get it simmering, I add more flour until it’s a thick paste.

I then cut up Dan’s school papers (I’m too busy crockpotting and blogging to pay attention to what he’s doing) and dip them into gloodle lard mixture. Then, I “paste” the strips of paper on whatever I’m paper maicheing.

Yesterday I did all of the Rubbermaid cartons, three jars of lacto-fermented salsa, the front of the fridge and our headboard. Now the words of Jesus live all around us.

The best part of gloodle-lard paper maiche is that the boys can help dip the strips of paper in the hot mixture and hand them to Mommy. Sometimes they get so into it that they even eat some, which is okay because it’s all natural! I don’t worry about them ingesting a tiny bit of paper because paper is made from trees which were created by God and in our house, if God created it then it is healthy.

Homemade Hats

I read an article that explained exactly how much radiation comes off a microwave. So we are committed to getting rid of the microwave as we rarely use it and I can certainly make anything we need in Cassie (the crockpot). I’m very worried about how this radiation will affect Dan’s man berries and might cause sterility. I know Dan is worried because I caught him standing in front of it in his grey underpants muttering, “please, please, I need help to stop it all.” So for the safety of the penises and my own precious woman egg supply, we are going to get rid of the microwave.

In the meantime, in order to protect my family and because it would be a fun crafting project, I’ve made everyone tinfoil hats to wear. I used the leftover tinfoil from the lard sculpture to create little hats with antennae so that the radiation will flow from our bodies, out our heads and away from us. For Dan and me I just added holes for hairpins to keep them on. For the boys I added rubber band straps to keep them on. Thomas looks so cute in his William Shatner pajamas and his little tinfoil hat. We even made hats for Brad, Terese and Cassie as they are valuable members of our family!

The best part was this was almost free because everything was either salvaged items or reusable:

Lard Sculpture $0.06
Paper Maiche $0.08
Tinfoil Hats $0.03

Craft time with my children: Priceless

How do you keep costs down while enjoying your favorite crafts?