I don’t care what you put in your face.

6 08 2012

If you just met me, I’ll let you in on a little spoiler: I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t eat. I don’t give a shit about most of your personal habits, in fact, but we’ll get into that later.

I don’t eat much meat. The way most of it is processed makes me want to puke and honestly, I just don’t like it that much. I’m more of a carb fan. Do you care? Good. Didn’t think so.

No one wants to hear about how you eat only organic soybeans and drink only naturally carbonated spring water infused with probiotics. I do not feel inferior to you because of what you shove into your pie bean hole. I have a pretty good grasp of nutrition. Sometimes I adhere to it, and sometimes I don’t give a flying fuck. Some douchebag’s opinion on why it’s wrong to kill dandelions for my PMS tea because it’s the only remaining component of unicorns’ natural diet is not going to change my habits, ever.

You’ll be sorry. Bitch.

Nourish yourself with nothing but cute baby animals and african orphans if you want, just please stop acting like it’s some kind of new hobby that I’m dying to be educated about. I’m not. If I’m interested, I’ll google it.

And then clear my search history before anyone finds out.

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Up Yours, Holidays

11 12 2010

It’s December 11th and I’ve already been assaulted by Christmas music every time I walk into a store for a month and tacky decorations covering my neighbors’ lawns whenever I look out my window.

No, I don’t have a tree up. No, I haven’t bought a single gift. Why? 1. I have no money. Yeah, the toilet scrubbing job fell through. 2. I don’t give a fuck. SPOILER ALERT: God’s not real. So, I don’t really care about the religious connotations. But let’s face it, that’s not what it’s about anymore anyway. My kid has enough cheaply made plastic, lead paint covered toys to overflow a landfill when I chuck them into the trash because he won’t pick them up off the damned floor already, thanks.

And I’ve already gained enough fat on my ass this year that I don’t really need another excuse to eat 5,000 calories a day.

Also, if I really gave a shit about my friends and family, they would know it every month of the year. Not just when I go out and buy them the cheapest but most expensive looking useless gift I can find at the last minute.

The materialism and greed makes me want to projectile vomit eggnog.

Happy Holidays!





Guess Who’s Back Bitches

1 06 2010

Backstreet.

Hah.

No.

I’m back. If you wanna be my friend you have to endure a little self pitying withdrawal fest once in a while. That’s just how I roll. You’ll get used to it.

Anywhoz,

I was driving along the other day, when I notice in front of me a van with the following lettered across the back window:

‘ChildProofers of Wisconsin- Simple Solutions for a Safe Home’

What. The fuck.

It really takes a professional to tell you to put the knives away and move the lighters and bong to a higher shelf?

For starters, when I was a kid I sure as hell don’t remember ever seeing a baby gate or outlet cover in my house.

When little caveman babies got too close and fell into the fire, did they start fencing them off with little prehistoric baby gates? No. That baby didn’t grow up and contribute to the gene pool.

And our species is better off for it.

If you must insist on reversing natural selection, at least use common fucking sense instead of paying some douchebag who calls themself a “professional babyproofer.”

For fuck’s sake!

Oh, and expect me to get back to stalking all your asses too.

See you soon! ❤





Yeah, I Suck

20 05 2010

Meh.

I haven’t been posting lately. Why? Because I’m depressed as hell and I’m a bitter little bitch.

I don’t want to post about how I’m so broke I have to skip a bill or two every month to buy groceries or about how I can’t seem to get even a shitty part time minimum wage job and I’ll never get to go to school and woe is me I hate my life, blah blah fucking blah.

I also haven’t been reading many of you because, like I said, I’m a fucking bitter bitch and I don’t want to hear about how you’re graduating college or got a sweet new job or how you’re going on an expensive vacation with your perfect spouse or spending the weekend at the spa, or can’t decide whether you want to become a lawyer or a doctor.

So,

until I have something other than negativity* to spread around, I’ll probably be staying pretty quiet.

I’ll be back.

*Obviously this blog is built on negativity, but I mean negativity that isn’t even entertaining.





You’re a Wha…?

22 04 2010

I’m a member of an online community of 20something Bloggers (even though I don’t have the badge up because WordPress sucks and I haven’t made my own html graphic yet like I did for my Facebook fan box, which was a waste of time for my whopping two fans. Update: 3 fans! Woohoo Kristen Brumm!)

Anyway…

Recently there was a topic posted in the forums about 20something virgins. Personally I was shocked at how many spoke up to say that they too, were strangers to the s-e-x at ages like 20, 24 or 26.

Now, I have no problem with people choosing not to have sex. I haven’t known what it was like to be a virgin since the tender age of 14, so it’s pretty difficult for me to imagine it at the age of 20 or 24. But, theoretically, it’s not something I’m going to oppose.

What does irk me is the preoccupation that so many virgins seem to have with their own sexual status. They feel the need to inform people of their choice and then watch for a negative reaction so that they can report back to the others that they were outcast and victimized.

Bottom line, if you choose to remain a virgin until you’re married, or until you’re 40, or whatever it is that you’re waiting for, and you feel the need to make it your prime goal in life to talk about it, don’t complain when some people react badly. You are the one defining yourself by your sexual preferences, the recipient of your revelation is only following suit. And that, in my opinion is the opposite of social progress.

Whether or not you have sex does not make you who you are. Which gender you prefer sexually does not make you who you are. Your nose hook fetish does not make you who you are (favorite search engine term of the week. Sorry to disappoint you, random Googler). If you let these things define you, then you are no better than the person judging you for them.

In the year 2010, I would think people could let go of things like the virgin label. Who cares?

Sex is a mere physical act between two animals. Basing your worth (and others) as a person on something so petty is beyond my understanding. As are many things lately.





It’s cool, sinuses

15 04 2010

It’s not like I need to breathe through my nose or anything. I mean, that’s what my mouth is for, right?

Besides, you’re obviously busy pumping out mucus like Michelle Duggar shits out kids.

It’s cool.





You’re super nice. Let’s not be friends.

13 04 2010

I consider myself to be a good person overall.

Stop laughing.

I’m polite to strangers. If I’m not in a bad mood I’ll probably stop to help you pick up your dropped groceries. I won’t even complain (out loud) when you proclaim, “God bless you” afterward.

If you’re an acquaintance or above, I’ll listen to you talk about topics I am not remotely interested in. I’ll give all the appropriate “Oh wow”s and “uh huh”s.

If you’re lucky enough (I said stop laughing) to be one of the elite few I call my closest friends, I’ll likely do anything within my power to help you out. I’ll give up my time and energy even to my own detriment.

However, I wouldn’t necessary call myself nice.

[Janeane Garafalo- not sweet (but awesome)]

Obviously, I enjoy vulgar language. I mean, I’m no Crazy Brunette Chick, but I have my moments, and quite frequently.

I make fun of people mercilessly, mostly behind their backs.

I don’t sugarcoat it when things (or people) suck, and that includes parenting and marriage.

I could be a professor of sarcasm. You know, “Anger’s ugly cousin.”

If you find yourself constantly described as “so nice!”, “really nice” or “sweet”, you don’t want to hang out with me. And frankly, I don’t want to be your friend.

[Jessica Simpson- sweet]

If you’ve never referred to your kid as a “little fucker”…

If you’ve never had the joy of laughing until you cry or piss your pants over making fun of some dumbass with  your friends…

If you refuse to discuss religion or politics for fear that you may offend someone…

If your primary topics of conversation include how cute your kid’s song about poop is, how wonderful your husband is or how beautifully clean and organized your home is….

we are not a good match. I will always wonder what the fuck is going on inside that nice head of yours.

I will be looking forward to the day when you snap and develop a second personality ala Me, Myself and Irene.

So, rock on with your nice self. Somewhere ese. And I will probably mock you behind your back. Because we all know that when no one is around, you’re screaming “fuck you, douchebag!” right along with the rest of us.