I can totally see better with one eye closed right now.
Are you a pathetic loser who sucks at dating? Do you often find yourself at home on a Friday night, crying into your ice cream while wondering when Prince Charming is going to save you from the shit-breathing dragon that is your life? Do the employees at your local Vibrators’R’Us know you by name? Think of all the money you would save on batteries if you could just get a man in your life.
What’s that you say? You can’t get a boyfriend? Well, I’ve got news for you. There’s an app for that!
Quit uploading new photo’s on your match.com profile. With the use of this app, your longtime crush will be uploading his dick in your ass in no time!
I’ll share a few tips with you because I am a wonderful friend, and this is what the world has come to.
If he smiles back, it means he either likes you or he doesn’t. Notice his face movements. If he cocks his eyebrows, he thinks you’re fucking weird. If his nostrils flare, he thinks you fucking reek. Take a shower for heavens sake. If he closes his eyes, he thinks you are ugly but is contemplating letting you blow him because it is a known fact that ugly girls give great head.
AN OBVIOUS TIP. Put a bag over your head.
And by putting your arm around his neck I mean, put your lips around his dick. She did say make him happy, at least as much as you can. Because you’re probably a loser.
If you’re not what society has deemed to be beautiful, find out if he likes dimples. If he doesn’t, VOILA! You’re on your own. Probably for the rest of your life.
Do NOT kiss with braces! You will get cut, and die! Some boys might be into it, but God sees it as a big NO NO.
Be as picky as possible. If he doesn’t meet every trait on your list, forget him. After all, you’re perfect, right?
*If he is good looking, respect for other peoples feelings is not required.
This app could be filed under the category ‘Useless’.
If you don’t have the nerve to approach a guy who has caught your eye, consider being his stalker. Start by stalking his facebook photos until you find one where you can Photoshop your face next to his. Break into his bedroom window and leave the picture on his pillow to let him know you are interested.
Go overboard? I’m pretty sure downloading this app was rock bottom.
Do not use any of the tips listed above.
The reviews raved about this app. One girl said that it only took the use of one of these tips to find her boyfriend. I’m pretty confident it was tip #3.
Like most of my blog, this post is about what the hell is wrong with people today? When I saw a girl sporting a tramp stamp of a poorly tattooed BatMan emblem, it really made me wonder what thought process, if any, takes place before deciding to make such an everlasting mark on ones body.
I don’t have anything against tattoos. I’ve debated on getting one myself, actually.
I understand wanting to get commemorative tattoos and/or ones that represent your heritage. What I do not understand is why you would let a 3rd grader with a severe tic be the artist of your choosing. For the love of God, go to a reputable parlor. Your cousin, Rick the Hick, and his $50.00 equipment he ordered off of Ebay, is in no way, shape, or form, a good choice.
Learn from others mistakes:
This piece of shit looks like it was drawn on an etch a sketch.
Who knew cooks had so many confining laws to adhere to?
Lactose intolerant, maybe?
Pegasus style? sure why not? Flying high in the sky, but only he has wings. Why is his horn so much smaller than hers? Why does he look so angry when he is in pink territory? How did she light that cigarette?
She won’t ever regret this. Solid decision.
There’s a woman you don’t want to forget. Smile of an angel.
Winning aka losing… in so many ways. This tattoo makes me bleed from my eyes. I never knew Charlie Sheen had so many freckles.
The truth is you should think before you ink!
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.
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
-tired of stupid people at work.
-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.
-You know you suck when even your mom unfriends you on facebook.
-loving my work status for facebook
-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.
-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
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.
Ten minutes in a waiting room will really make you aware of how annoying people can be. Once you are already irritated it’s easy to think of little things that piss you off. Here it goes.
Butt Explosion Etiquette
Nobody knows when their diarrhea will strike, so sooner or later they will find themselves having a butt explosion in a public bathroom. It’s nauseating to think about, but shit happens. What pisses me off is when they close the door afterwards, trying to hide the stench of rotting carcass. They’re not fooling anybody. They were in there for a fucking hour and it took 3 flushes to clear the bowl. So, of course when I go to use it, I open the door, and get shit winded in the face from the killer fumes they’ve trapped in the tiny, enclosed space. Do us all a favor and leave the fucking door open. Let that shit air out. Literally.
I get really aggravated when I send somebody a text message and have to wait for their reply. My ego gets bruised when you don’t respond immediately. I don’t care if you’re at school. I dont care if you’re in a business meeting. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of a threesome with King Tut and Janet Jackson. King Tut ain’t disappearing. He’s dead, he stays where you put him. And the only thing disappearing about Janet Jackson is her nose and her career. So, stop what you’re doing and fucking answer me. Thank you.
I’m sitting in the waiting room of a doctors office. In walks a lady and her son who is about 4 years old. He is pushing a stroller with her 8 month old daughter in it. She sits down and the boy begins to play race car track with the stroller, circling our chairs like he is Dale fucking Earnhardt. He’s bumping into all kinds of shit, including people. His mother is playing on her iphone. Me and the other patients exchange glances of “WTF? Is this bitch for real?” I’m just waiting for the baby to go flying out of the stroller and becoming one with the cement wall. FINALLY, she calls him over and tells him to sit down. Then she proceeds to play some childish game on her iPhone with the volume on full blast. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Lady, you are an imbecile and I am not above disciplining you and your unruly child. I do not want to sit here and listen to your ducks and cows and bouncing balls background music while you ignore your kids. How old are you, anyway? What the fuck are you playing? Read a fucking magazine like a normal person. And for Gods sake, control that fucking animal you birthed.
I could go on, but I have a job and a life.
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.
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.
“I wanted to know if you’d like to come watch a movie at my house tonight?”
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.
(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.
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?
I think we have all heard the advice “write about what you know.” Well, I’d like to know why the advice “talk about what you know” never caught on.
We are all guilty of irresistibly sticking our noses where they don’t belong. As human beings it is only natural for us to be curious about what others are doing. But most of us manage to not make a habit out of it.
Other people, however, have nothing better to do than contribute to the spread of biased and inaccurate information. In simple terms, they like DRAMA. And some people seem to thrive on it.
So I’m going to be direct:
I’m sorry to hear that your life is so mundane that you have to meddle in mine. I really am.
Ha! Actually, no, I’m not. That’s your own fault.
It must be hard to be nothing but a walking vagina without a wisp of an original thought happening upstairs. You should probably get a boob job. Maybe the attention will help raise your self-esteem. Although, it shouldn’t. Because they are only interested in your sexual objectification. You are still as uninteresting as you were yesterday; and a little less annoying than you will be tomorrow. But at least what you lack in mental capacity you can make up for in cleavage.
There is more silver lining. You can finally prove me wrong when I said it would be utterly impossible for you to become any more fake. Bravo! You’ve defied the laws of superficiality.
So, I have taken the liberty of noting a few simple steps to start you on your recovery of gossip whoring.
Stop Facebook stalking.
– Facebook is, without a doubt, an abundant source of information and a stealthy way to sneak a peek into people’s private lives. But some people turn it into the Never Ending Story. They stare at Facebook for hours on end just waiting to spread negativity. They hope to catch a glimpse of embarrassing photos soon to be untagged. They wish to read slandering statuses aimed towards their peers. They laugh at the facebook user whose relationship status just changed to single. Then they send out gossip alerts to all their friends. If you’re not involved, stay out of it. And If you’re going to be responsible for passing along crude information at least be sure you have your facts straight; which you don’t, because the fact is, it is none of your business.
If it was your business you wouldn’t be putting the information on blast.
Stop talking about people you don’t know.
-You don’t even know their name. Clearly, you have no association with this person, and unless they plan to pass a new anti-internet-stalking bill, their actions do not affect your life. After all, you would have to have a life for it to be affected. Not to mention, if you don’t know the person, it is probably old news; you are rehashing the past that the gossip victim would just like to move on from.
Don’t add people on facebook you don’t know, either. A friend of mine does not make them a friend of yours. It makes you a stalker.
People do weird things.
This is a major one. Once you learn to accept this you will find that what was once so juicy is not all that uncommon. In fact, I’m sure you can think of at least one time when you negatively viewed someone because of something they did, only to remember that you once did something very similar. The point is, if you spread these types of stories it’s bound to cause unjust judgement on those involved. Your distorted and limited knowledge of the subject makes you reek of elementary drama. People have all kinds of reasons for their actions, albeit some crazier than others. But no matter how moronic, jaw-dropping, or tragic it is, it is still not your business. Let people live their lives.
You should probably search for a career in reality tv, because that’s as close to a real life as you’re going to get.
Do me a favor and don’t open your mouth unless you’re shoveling your feelings into it.
To be Continued…
It seems like I can’t go anywhere these days without getting hit on. Yes, most of the time it is flattering but nonetheless inappropriate. And also awkward. I feel the need to tiptoe around town avoiding the guys working in certain places that have blatantly flirted with me. The most recent occurrence of this really made me laugh at his methods.
I take my car into the dealership I bought it from for service. They instruct me to go sit in the waiting room until it’s time to surgically remove my arm and leg to pay for the oil change. I walk in and of course there’s the usual mixture of snacks in a basket, like crackers, cookies, donuts, — anything I shouldn’t even be eyeing if I want to be ready for bikini season. Eh, fuck it, I grab some peanut butter crackers because they’re free and I might be a nice bitch but I am also a broke bitch. College is expensive, ya heard? I think I will make that my next post. lol.
In walks this hefty man, I’m guessing around 30 years old. He kind of reminded me of Randy Jackson. He asks me what I am waiting for. Well, I have a dry mouthful of peanut butter crackers and normally I wouldn’t dare speak with my mouth full but every time I walk into this wallet-emptying-hell-hole I seem to say ‘fuck it” a lot more than I usually do. So, there is no way I can be appealing trying to answer his boring, just-leave-me-to-my-crackers-and-iphone-please, stupid questions. Finally, he hands me his card and says he is being paged and has to take care of something important. Well, aren’t you just Mr. Big Deal? Thank God, now I can eat my crackers in peace and text my friends how annoying the guy that works here is.
You guessed it, Mr. Big Deal walks back in and sits down on the couch next to me. You think this may have tipped him off but apparently not — I ask him “Aren’t you going to get in trouble for sitting here with me? Don’t you have something you should be doing?” He smirks and replies “Didn’t you read my card?” Um, obviously not. So I dig through my suitcase/purse to find the card I carelessly threw in there. A few minutes pass. lol. I pull out his card and read that he is the Sales Manager. Wow, he is a big deal. And!!! (I know we don’t like excessive use of exclamation points but I am just that excited!!!!) His card reveals his name is “Big John”. HAHAHAHAHAHA. No. You shouldn’t have a ‘big’ in your name unless you are a Pro Wrestler, Porn Star, or dating Carrie on Sex and the City. And do I even need to elaborate that it’s on his business card? The only big part about him is his belly… and his head. He proceeds to ask me how old I am and I tell him to take his best guess. He says 25. And I pretend to be slightly offended and tell him I am younger than that (by a year. lol).
At this Point I am just talking to him solely for entertainment purposes. He tries to recover from the age insult by saying that I carry myself like a woman on a mission. Make that a bitch on a mission and I might forgive you. Then he offers to take me on a ‘test drive’ to help pass the time. I am playing into his antics now and I tell him bring me the biggest, baddest truck on the lot. During the short drive, he begins to interrogate me on what I am studying in school, what kind of truck my boyfriend drives, where I like to go for dinner, etc. As much as I try to steer the subject back to the truck, he puts the pedal to the metal back to the subject of me. Ugh. But, I did end up giving him my number, but only because I am a nice bitch. I like to tell it how it is but without intentionally hurting others. But he called me and I never answered. I don’t think that is the first time that has happened to him.
I just don’t know where these guys get off thinking it’s okay to approach customers in this fashion. Car salesman have a bad rep as it is. And now I feel uncomfortable going back there. I mean, at least if I do see him I will still get some free crackers out of it.
The truth is, I’m flattered that you like me, but insulted that you think you have a chance with me.