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Names Shmames

7 Sep

We recently went out for Bakers birthday!  The drinking started at the beach bar in the early afternoon.  We had to request more soda for our drinks because they were that strong.  We were happy to get our moneys worth but damn, it wasn’t 5 o’clock anywhere.

There was a 3rd grader at the table behind us that was far too loud.  My first thought was she is going to be even more annoying as she gets older.  She was the youngest person at their table, thus probably the dumbest.  But she was dominating the conversation like she owned the fucking place.  If that was me, my parents would have been like “pipe down with your pre-adolescent bull shit.”  The little girl commanded the attention of the table like it was the state of the union address.  She then confidently said “Not that it would ever happen, like ever, but would you rather die by drowning or get eaten by a shark?”  First of all, it could happen. Florida is practically the capitol of unprovoked shark attacks.  Second of all, what kind of question is that? Aren’t you just a sadistic, little 7 year old? I don’t consider this to be appropriate lunch conversation. Third of all, DROWN! Duh.

We attempt to continue drinking at dinner, but that is a bust because they are out of House Margaritas? How does that even happen?

After dinner we hit up our favorite waterfront bar to meet up with more friends. We notice a random guy sitting alone on the corner of the deck.  We make up a story that he is a writer.  He keeps looking at us, probably wondering why we keep looking at him.  We are convinced that we just became characters in his novel.  I am drunk.  My friend dares me to go ask him why he is there alone.

5 minutes later he is coming with us to play pool at the next destination.  I’d like the record to show that I did NOT invite him.  In his words, he “overheard us talking about leaving” and wanted to come with us because he wasn’t a local. According to him, he was a fourth grade teacher.  Coincidentally, one of my friends is also a teacher.  They talked. Multiple red flags were raised. He was a weird one.  His name was Amun, “like the sun god”.  We asked him how old he was.  His response? “Do you know how old our Lord Jesus Christ was when he died? I’m that age.”  That at least answers the question of why he is there alone.  I think he had some sort of God complex.  Eventually, Baker started interrogating him about being a teacher. She told him not to bullshit her.  Not even God could help him. He got scared and left.

I go to the jukebox to play music.  I couldn’t get my bill into the machine, mostly because I wouldn’t put my drink down to straighten the crumpled dollar. A random guy, comes over and offers to help.  It goes right in.  Drunk.  He returns to whatever he was doing and I play Britney Spears and Bob Marley.  Can you dig it?

His friend approaches me and I introduce myself.  He says “I’m Luke, we’ve met before.” I argue  “no, I don’t remember you. I think you are thinking of someone else.” He continues to argue with me saying I have a face he couldn’t forget. Awkward.

Then he says “you were wearing a peach dress.”  Creepy. And awkward.

I’m still momentarily baffled because I have always thought that dress was orange. He knows my wardrobe better than I do.

Baker walks over and I introduce him “Baker, this is Lance.”  He corrects me, his name is Luke. Awkward.  I still don’t remember him.  He reminds me that the night I met him, I was way more interested in his friend.  Wow, Lance sure does know how to keep a conversation awkward.

The night I met him was the night I felt like a slutty cinderella.  There was a nice guy and a cute guy.  Guess which one he is.

Anyway, it turns out he is friends with the jukebox helper, Marcus.  Marcus confesses to Baker and I that he “has to be honest, he just got out of prison.”  Oh, fabulous!   Don’t only rapists and pedophiles have to be up front about that kind of thing? Clearly, we need to find new places to hang out.

Lance invites us to his beach house that is not far from there that is stocked with rum. Marcus will also be accompanying us.  Beach house? Sounds fancy.  Rum? Sounds like fun. I ask him what his name is again.  I’m way past beer goggles at this point.  I’m just straight up fucking blind. Then, I ask Baker if she is willing to go.  She agrees. Only because she is drunk. He gives us the address.  Baker says “Marcus, we will meet you at the gas station to pick up some cola to mix with the rum.”  He corrects her, his name is Maurice. Whoops.

We get to the gas station which looks shady as hell. But I guess all gas stations look shady at 3 in the morning.  She opens the car door and tells me she will be right back.  I tell her I want to come with her.  She says no, stay here and keep the doors locked.  Which is pretty much what every person says right before something horrific happens.

A couple minutes later she comes back to the car with a 2 liter of cola with a frustrated look on her face. Apparently, Lance made a comment that it was a lot of soda for his amount of rum.  She is pissed because she felt we shouldn’t even go if the rum is that limited. I agree but it’s too late now…we bought the soda.

Just because the town has ‘beach’ in the name does not mean the house is literally on the beach. I got shafted.  The house was poorly decorated and smelled like the 1950’s.

The four of us took a lot of group selfie pictures.  All of which confirm that I drank too much.  None of which I wish to share.

Around 5 a.m. Lance/Luke and I went into his kitchen to put the rum back in the fridge.  There was old, rotting corn on the stove.  It was definitely time to go. Baker had also had enough of her conversation with the felon, who she found out had a couple kids that he really loves.  Whatever.

We say our goodbyes and hightail it outta there.

The next day Lance text messages me multiple times. I do not respond.  The day after that he calls me multiple times.  I do not answer.  The third day he sends me a text that says “Are you not interested in talking to me?”.   What gave it away?  Was it the fact that I’m not talking to you?

Idiot.

Follow the Yellow Bitch Road.

21 Jul

As my stats number increases I often wonder how these people stumbled upon my lonely, little blog out of the infinite sites available to them on the World Wide Web. Who are they and what are they like?  I had a feeling I might appeal to the annoyed, the sarcastic, and obviously the bitchy.

As luck would have it, WordPress just so happens to reveal what some of these viewers typed into a search engine that ultimately lead them to my page.  Some were my target audience,  sadly the most rare. Other search topics just made me laugh.  And then there are simply the ones that made me want to give up on writing altogether.

Let me elaborate.  The following queries, I shit you not, are what people are actually searching for (spelling and all).  And they landed on my page!  Clearly, I have a problem and it’s my writing.

The Expected

-bitchtastic Bitches

Possibly they have been to my page before?

-how to get rid of an annoying bitch

Easy one, write a blog post about her.

-truthful bitchy rants

Right on.

-tired of stupid people at work.

Ditto.

-I’m a good enough person to forgive you, but not stupid enough to trust you.

I like you.

-I bitch therefore I am

I like you even more.

Hahahaha. 

-You know you suck when even your mom unfriends you on facebook.

-loving my work status for facebook

Pathetic.

-signs your incredibly boring

If you’re bored enough to search for the signs then you are a fucking Boron. A Boring Moron.

-your spouse sucking the life out of you

-Life sucks when you have a good heart.

-life sucks without sex

-whats wrong with the world

-fuck is also important in our life.

Fuck yeah.

 

WTF?

-i wonder what normal people think about

I wonder why there aren’t more normal people reading my blog.

-when live sucks jump

WTF? I have never been an advocate of suicide.  Annoying people should not kill themselves. They just shouldn’t breed.

-big boobs ugly face

I need something funny, but insulting for the insecure girls stalking on facebook

-Red traffic light hooker

facebook stalking… i wish you would update more

-real boob

 

WTF? ON CRACK

-Open your mouth a purse falls out

WTF does that even mean? Eat a sandwich like a normal person.

-Wife thinks im a idiot for going bald

I don’t recall ever doing a post on hair restoration or how it may affect your brain function.  Perhaps your wife thought you were an idiot all along.

 

There is more but I think you get the idea.   Anyway, no matter how you found your way here I am glad you made it.

How serious is serious?

27 Apr

Have you ever liked somebody up until you realized the feeling was mutual?  It happens to me all the time.  I guess I just want what I can’t have. I thought it was a phase but I’m beginning to think I have a fear of commitment.

I consider my current relationship status to be friends with benefits.  But lately I get the feeling it’s progressing into something more.  The reasons are as follows:

1. Daily text messages.

He texts me to ask me how my day is going.  Since when does anybody give a fuck about my day?

2. Was that a date?

He invited me to go out to eat.  So, that afternoon I stopped by the drug store. I spent twenty minutes comparing razors.  The pharmacist kept looking at me like I might be illiterate. That, or I was contemplating on stealing it.  I splurged on the expensive one.  BOOYAH Pharmacist! I’m pretty sure I paid an extra $10.00 because it was pink. And I even bought an electric shaver also.  I was curious. Don’t judge me. Of course, I go to use it and the piece of shit doesn’t have any fucking batteries in it.  Maybe they should have put ‘buy your own damn batteries’ on the package.  I had to rummage through every piece of electronics in my house to find 2 triple A batteries.  Why the fuck doesn’t it take double A batteries like everything else in the world? Anyway, I digress.  The point is, I obviously felt that this night was special for some reason.  He paid for dinner and made sure to open the doors and all that jazz.  If it shaves like a date, pays like a date, and kisses like a date, is it a date?

3. Spending the night.

Most guys can’t wait to give their booty call the boot when the business transaction is complete. And if you want to cuddle you’re better off going to Build-a-Bear Workshop. I wish they had Build-a-Man Workshop.  They have Build-a-Bitch Workshop, it’s called a relationship (no wonder I’m single).  When the deed was done I’d gather my shit (Dignity not included. See what I did there razor company?) and be on my happy hoe way.  I actually like sleeping in my own clean sheets.  But now he offers that I spend the night.  I know the physical acts we just committed are considered to be one of the most intimate things two people can do together, but I feel like waking up next to each other is a whole new level of closeness.

4. Using his facilities.

He invites me over to watch a movie when I get off work.  He says that I can just bring a clean pair of clothes and shower at his house.  I told my friend this to see what kind of response it would illicit. She replied “You can’t shower at his house! There’s no way he will have good shampoo!” Plus my long locks need conditioner.  I think that’s a pretty valid concern.  I’ll never forget the day I woke up with a hangover at a male friends house. I had to shower before class so I didn’t smell like a hooker on a 3 day alcohol binge.  I was forced to use anti-dandruff shampoo for men, old spice deodorant, and I wore the same clothes I passed out in.  Then I walked into class smelling like a spicy man with a dandruff problem and my friend looks at me and says “have you seen your neck?”  It’s safe to say that was rock bottom but I think I deserve some credit for at least making it to class.  I continue to digress.  I feel like using his shower and shampoo is like domesticating our relationship.  It’s like sharing toothpaste. It’s like playing house.  It’s like committing to maybe, possibly, showering there on a regular basis.  But hey, maybe he just wants me to be clean for the post movie activities.

I’m not going to jump to any conclusions.  I’m probably over analyzing.  I just like to know what everyone is thinking and why they do certain things.  Hidden meanings are so aggravating.

It’s like my  motto, say what you mean, mean what you say, and say something mean.

Alexander Graham Bell, this is your fault.

5 Apr

It dates back to the prehistoric times of the Caveman.  The males approach to women doesn’t seem to have changed that much.  The caveman knew how to sweep a woman off her feet — beat her over the head until she falls flat on her back.

I know that men were put on this earth to create chaos in a womans mind.  I don’t understand it, but I’ve come to accept it — only because I have to.  We’re lucky if they change their underwear let-alone change their strategies of attracting women.  Here we are in the year 2012, and men still believe the best way to get a lady back to his cave is by messing with her head.  The only thing that’s changed is that now women beat their own heads against the wall.

Like men weren’t confusing enough, Mr. Alexander Graham Bell had to go and put hot sauce on a jalapeno and invent the telephone.  Which leads me to the topic of my post and the burning question, will he call?

This should be a very simple question to answer.  If he says he will call, then yes, he will.  But that wouldn’t get us to beat our heads against the wall, now would it? So, they’ve made it into an impossible guessing game because every case is different.

Classmate Example A:

Run into classmate at a bar:

“Hey, can I have your number? We should catch a movie tomorrow night.”

“Sure, that sounds great.”

He doesn’t call.  I bet he was really tired from staying out late last night.

I see him again in class and he continues to talk to me, but for embarrassments sake I do not ask why he bailed the other night. After all, it wasn’t set in stone and I don’t want to seem like a clinger. and then:

“What are you doing later tonight? Lets get together, I’ll hit you up.”

“Okay, I’m down.”

Is my phone on silent? I bet his phone ran out of battery.  Is my phone out of battery? He’s said he would be home, he should have a charger.  Maybe he isn’t getting service.  Am I getting service? I don’t even know if I like him. Why am I so worried about his call? I just don’t understand why he would initiate hanging out with me only to leave me hanging…alone. Just shut up. I need to just shut up.

The next time I’m walking out to my car, staring at the ground in a daze, only to look up and see him in his car waiting to talk to me.

“Hey, what class did you have today?  What are you doing later? We should go to the beach or something.”

“Yeah, just let me know.”

Oh, no. I feel it. My brain is going into over-drive-over-analyze mode again.

I don’t think our phones can connect for some reason.  I bet he found some other girl to go to the beach with. Why is he doing this to me? Do I deserve this? I bet this is karma for all those fake numbers I gave out. FML. Why does he act like he’s interested and then pretend to do something about it?  I knew I shouldn’t have worn these jeans today.  They make my ass look huge. What a fucking dickbrick.  I hope he knows how to use his dick better than he knows how to use a phone.   Fuck you and fuck Alexander Graham Bell.

That’s where Classmate Example A ends for now.

Let’s continue.

Random guy at a bar Example B:

Run into a friend at a bar who introduces me to Example B.  We hit it off and have a great time.  The night ends around 4 AM with a drunken, short, good night kiss.

“Can I get your number?”

“DLFKAJS;LF yes alajdfas;lij”

I know I said yes, but like I said– 4 AM – BAR– I’m lucky I remember the little that I do.  Besides, that fuckers never going to call.

Next day:

“I wanted to know if you’d like to come watch a movie at my house tonight?”

“Yes.”

Well, the movie, ahem, went well. We share another kiss goodbye and I leave.

Why didn’t he mention calling me again? I am so stupid.  I have no self control. He doesn’t want to buy the cow. Fucking bastard motherfucker.

Next morning text:

“Good morning, How are you?”

Texts me all day. WTF. The guy who never mentions calling is the one who calls. The one who goes out of his way to say he will call me is the one who doesn’t.

That just goes to show you how fucked up the male psyche is.

I really need end this post because I think my head is bleeding.

No, I can’t hear you now. But Call me, maybe?

This song is so catchy.

It finally happened.

4 Apr

My partner in crime sent this to me.   Apparently the evil bitch has her own show.

The evil bitch has her own show.

The day has come, folks.   I finally managed to make the evil bitch a deleted scene in the movie I call life. And let me tell you, it feels like a brothel house has been lifted off my shoulders.

She still had some of my belongings and I had one of her bags. So, we needed to make a trade.  If she didn’t return my things I was going to have her ex boyfriend take a dump in her bag and leave it on her car with a note reading “here’s your shit back.”    I thought it fitting after all the shit she has given me.

We still have some mutual friends which is unfortunate.  But, that’s only because she is clinging to them like glitter to a stripper. I predict things getting better and better though.

 

Go away, Bitch.

 

Truth of the past.

20 Mar

It's not my fault your life sucks.

(2007) Sometimes, I wonder how stupid someone has to be before officially being declared retarded. But maybe it’s not stupidity, maybe it’s some other obnoxious mental condition. Why is it always the hated people that say it’s not important to have a good rapport with those you work with? I find it funny that a grown man can stoop so low as to talk trash about me to my friend. Are you that incredibly moronic and depressed about your life that you have to pick on an innocent girl? Apparently, yes. I’m sorry you’re jealous of the good relationships I have with our coworkers. I’m sorry you think I turned everyone against you, even though you clearly did that yourself. I’m sorry you’re going bald and had to marry your wife because you had already knocked her up.

It’s my party and you better not cry.

6 Mar

Quit Crying

When it comes to feelings, I like to keep mine private. When I get upset I tend to bottle it up and put it on the shelf. Which is quite fitting considering I usually have to drink a bottle before I let my guard down. People say that you feel better after you get things off your chest. But I just end up feeling vulnerable. And there is nothing I hate more than that overwhelming feeling of vulnerability. It makes me feel weak.

But that’s just me. Other people are happy to advertise their heartache and failures to anybody that will listen.  I read statuses on facebook all the time that make me go “WTF? Somebody needs a diary”. Does anybody know why it is called a diary? I’ll tell you why; It is because it was invented to prevent diarrhea of the mouth. It’s purpose is to help those with uncontrollable, pathetic feelings pouring out their pie-holes, stinking of desperation and the need for attention.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind being a shoulder to cry on. But not when you cry about everything. I hope you can use your frequent crier miles towards a one way ticket out of my face.

The truth is, when you cry about everything, your tears mean nothing. That may sound like a mean thing to say, which is why I said it. Well, that and I speak the truth.

You’ve just become the girl who cried wolf; but without the wolf.  So, you’re just the girl who cried. Over and over again. Until one day everyone stopped caring.

Let me guess, you’re going to cry, aren’t you?

You are ugly when you cry.

Your crying face makes me laugh.

Chocolates go on Sale tomorrow!!

14 Feb

Happy Valentines Day!

Love,  the bitchy truth

I am my own Bitch. Game on.

10 Feb

Have you ever gotten too close to a person too quickly, only to realize that they are a psycho, boy-crazed, desperate for attention, bring-you-down coffin of depression? I have. The question for me is, am I ready to call her a deleted scene? I am not sure I am ready to call it quits after all the time I’ve spent training her (that’s another entry). After all, every educated bitch knows to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But even I have my limits. She has the incredible ability to suck the life right out of you while still portraying the victim. Its uncanny, and I always give credit where credit is due. She absolutely deserves an award for the ability to stick her head so far up her inflated ass that she actually believes her own misconstrued bullshit.

I may be a bitch but I still consider myself a rational person. So, is it possible the problem is that she is better at being a bitch than I am? Has she discovered an entire new dimension of bitch?

No, it can’t be. She’s not that smart.

I think her problem is that she’s evil. Just like there is white magic and black magic; the good bitch and the evil bitch also exist. Like white magic, I only use my gift of bitchiness for good. My sarcasm is like a ray of light shining through a dark cloud. It was even rumored that it had the ability to make a tree smile. It’s common sense that when I tell a friend her gown reminds me of the one my grandma had to wear in the hospital, it’s not because I want to hurt her feelings. It’s because I take the red carpet everywhere I go and I can’t afford to be seen with someone who raided Helen Keller’s closet. I have her best interest at heart.

The evil bitch, on the other hand, is manipulative, unrelenting, and morose. You won’t realize it at first. Even good bitches get duped on occasion. Sooner than later though, you will realize the evil bitch’s goal in life is to make you as miserable and alone as she is. And be forewarned, being the good bitch that you are, you will have the instinctual urge to help this wretched broad. But let it be known, they can not be helped. The evil bitch’s determination to bring you down can’t be destroyed.

And I for one have put up with it for too long. I guess I answered my question… but we will see when I decide to pull the trigger. Maybe she can come back for a guest appearance. But for now, I’d say her goose is cooked. and loose. Because that girl couldn’t keep her legs closed if you broke them and tied them together.

Since I once considered this hot mess a friend, I’m going to do my best to let her down easy. Which shouldn’t be an issue because I’ve heard she goes down easy.

I feel like I’ve put forth as much effort as I can to make this relationship work. It’s like a long break up. Where we are constantly on and off again. That’s not the kind of relationship I’m looking for. We should have just stayed broken up the first time. I wanted it to work. I really did. But sometimes it’s just not meant to be.

Translation:

I’m done being your bitch in this relationship. It’s reminds me of an ugly divorce. You are constantly whining and I am tired of you bringing me down. I deserve better than that. You were always a mistake. I wanted it to work. I really did. But then I realized you’re an evil bitch.

Or maybe I should make things interesting?

The evil bitch made it a competition.

I’m going to make it a good one.

Get on the Bitch Train.

9 Feb

image

I’ve never been fond of introductions. It must be the awkward handshake soon followed by forced conversation. Honestly, I just met you and unless you hold future boyfriend potential, I won’t waste much of my time getting to know you. Some may call it shallow, but I prefer to think of it as good time management.

But everyone needs friends, right? Life without friends is like life without sarcasm. Why bother? But, as it says in the name I’m here to tell the truth even if it makes me a bitch. There are times when I just can’t seem to handle all of my friends pulling me in every different direction. Even after moving to a new place I already feel as though I am at friend capacity. So when some unintelligent life form tries to befriend me, you can bet I try to cut right to the chase. I won’t be flat out mean to the little freak, but it won’t take a genius to realize they bombed their first audition so badly that if my life were a movie I wouldn’t even hire them as a background actor.

Every once in awhile I come across a trouble making douche that somehow managed to fool me into thinking they earned a role in my life. However, it’s not long before that gravy train comes to a screeching halt. They are what I like to refer to as a deleted scene. And as soon as they commit whatever heinous act that reveals their true colors, I’ve got 10 more understudies just waiting for their chance at stardom. That’s where I like to utilize my Friend Wait List. The wait list consists of people I want to socialize with but simply don’t have the time for due to my friend capacity. You’re probably thinking that I am completely immoral and have total disregard for peoples feelings. Yeah, I get it. They are humans with real emotions! Let’s get one thing clear, I treat my friends with the utmost respect and devotion. That is why I had to develop such a unique system. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to use it. I doubt you ever reach friend capacity, anyway.

And, of course, we can’t forget my costars. These are the friends that have been around the longest and are basically royalty in my book. They’re the ones almost as bitchy as me and always have my back. Sequels will flop without their characters.

So, for those of you looking to reach friend capacity, I’ve found that the best way to make new friends is to get a hobby. I chose drinking. I can assure you I have done plenty of research. Some of my costars can all be traced back to our first drunk encounter. Although, after boarding the crazy train with a nonstop ticket to Drunky Town, I found myself somewhat embarrassed in the morning. I didn’t want my new friend to know I was that much of a train wreck so soon. But no worries! Time and time again, they keep coming back for more. There is just something about peeing in a parking lot together that really creates a bonding experience.

So, drink up bitches! I have a feeling we are going to be great friends.