RSS

Tag Archives: bitch

Hate and mimosas

There is hope for the world.

And its called Football.

Not European Football, not that I have anything against the LGBT community, I am a big supporter.

But Are you ready for some football?

It is Sunday and I am in a sports bar near the beach.

The place is packed and the NFL is on every wall.

And we are all Americans here.

There is a comradery among football fans that seems to be ignoring what the media tells us is impossible.

I just saw two Detroit Lions fans, total strangers of different races, embrace over a touchdown.

The fact that their team sucks is irrelevant to these men, they are tied together by their devotion to a team of ne’er-do wells who are mostly convicted felons.

Moving on.

There is a lot of smack talk, but, due to the setting, it is all but ignored.

Like the first hour of snow, it doesn’t stick.

However, like a decent snow storm, if it goes on for too long, it will not only stick, it will start to pile up.

The snow analogy might be a good one.

Because when it gets REALLY bad, these bastards will start eating people.

And that is when it all goes to suck.

Speaking of suck, my beloved Chicago Bears are currently losing their ass to that gang of thugs from Detroit.

Being a Bear’s fan is a lot like being in an abusive relationship.

You get hurt a lot, they are always sorry, and you hope for a better future.

In other words, its been a rough season.

Between the ambience of a great sports bar and the advent of online gambling, Sundays during Football season could not get any better.

And then you add mimosas.

Not something I would normally look for, the mimosa.

But, they are flowing like water and I love to go with the flow.

Champagne has the evil tendency to get you drunk quicker, its the bubbles, I am told.

It also makes the room loader, which makes me have to speak louder just to be heard above the din.

Plus, its a lot of fun.

And then, Myra came in.

Myra is not happy to discover she is in a sports bar.

I can see her confusion.

I mean, that REALLY FUCKING BIG sign out front that clearly states “Sports bar” can be misleading.

Top 3 Myra comments:

  1. “Is all the noise really necessary?” (Its a sports bar, you dipshit.)
  2. “Every TV is showing a different game, that seems so confusing. (This is a general sports bar, not a specific team bar. That is a fine point that I feel Myra is incapable of understanding.)
  3. “I am not really into sports.” (YOU ARE IN A FUCKING SPORTS BAR.)

So, beside frowning at everyone, Myra has been been making little comments to her neighbors.

And then it hits me.

Myra is sober.

There is nothing more irritating to a sober person, than a bar full of inebriated people.

Time for a social experiment.

I call the waitress over and have her take a tray of mimosas to Myra’s table.

She is not allowed to say who they are from.

This is not the high end move it sounds like, the mimosa special makes them ridiculously cheap.

After a little fluster and questioning of the waitress, the mimosas are accepted.

Myra and her table toast the room in a sign of good faith.

And the rest goes like clockwork.

They order the next round a few minutes later, alcohol being like potato chips, you can’t have just one.

In short order, Myra has stopped bitching and has become a rowdy personality.

Turns out she loves the Cowboys, predictable, but a good sign.

So, here are the results of my little experiment.

Alcohol can solve most problems.

The results don’t lie.

Are you ready for some football?

(And a few mimosas?)

Advertisements
 
4 Comments

Posted by on December 16, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , ,

The four horsemen of ignorance

“Try to be a rainbow in someones cloud.” Maya Angelou

Possible the shittiest bumper stick or facebook meme ever.

I saw that online today and laughed out loud.

The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with caution.” Albus Dumbledore

JK Rowling is responsible for 40% of everyone currently reading.

Of the two, I think she beats Angelou like a prison snitch.

Sometimes, who says it has more value to people than what they say.

But there is nothing worse than something dumb that an idiot thinks is deep.

“I don’t want to just be, I want to be HERE.”

That was the empty headed, dip shit comment that caught my ear.

The patio at Starbucks is a dicey thing in the summertime.

Pick the wrong spot on the wrong day and you are drinking hot coffee at a sweat fest.

But a Summer breeze and some shade and damn that coffee tastes better.

Enter the morons.

First year college students are a notably ignorant bunch, but God save us from the induced retardation of first year liberal arts majors.

These kids are not goth, but they are trying so hard to be intelligent and deep, there is an actual pain associated to listening to them.

The lead pussy, lets call him Tristan, is an emaciated tall kid with stringy black hair, a touch of mascara, and if my nose is accurate, does not believe in that whole bathing thing.

Great, BO and mommy told him he is brilliant.

This is a bad combination for survival.

Pray he never goes to jail, because he has “Prison Bitch” written all over him.

His worthless liberal arts degree will fast track him for supervisor at Kinkos shortly after his first decade at the counter, making copies.

I don’t normally hate someone at first sight, but today I will make an exception.

His posse is an impressive bunch in the realm of ignorant wanna-bees, but they rank below Tristan in the Order Condescendi.

First is Molly.

Molly is the remora student of the bunch.

A Remora is a fish that cannot fend for itself, so it attaches itself to another fish, usually a shark, and feeds off of the scraps.

While I hate the thought of classifying Tristan as anything as impressive or aggressive as a shark, it seems to fit.

Molly seems to feed off of Tristan’s half assed comments as if they were manna from the heavens.

Also, chocolate and fried foods, if her skin is any indicator.

Then there are the Twins.

I say twins because they sound so much alike, if you are not watching, you are not sure which one spoke.

They are like the supporting characters in a Socrates play.

“Yes, Socrates.”

“How wise of you, Socrates.”

But no actual thoughts of their own.

This is prime Occupy [Insert name of someplace people work for a living] protesters.

Tristan is concerned about his existential placeholder in the cosmos.

He really shouldn’t worry, his place in all of this is assured, the fix is in.

He is a loser, wear that badge like a medal boy, you have been working hard for the failure in your future.

And someone should track down your parents, sober them up, and slap them both in the mouth for raising this little cross for society to bare.

If it were not for the coffee, I would have left by now.

Mmmmm coffee…

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on July 29, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , ,

The art of being a Rotten Bitch.

Save me the whiny comments about my prominent use of the word bitch, in this context, it fits.

Feminists would have you believe that the moment you ladies are out of the room, all men can do is call you a bitch and discuss rape as a sport.

That would be like all women waiting until the men leave the room and then talking about how people you don’t know are at their core.

Oh, wait, thats what goes on now. My bad.

Live your life, believe what you want, just try not to be an idiot about it.

Now that thats out of the way, let me describe Dale to you.

Dale is a piece of work, is what she is.

She is an artist of sorts, working in anger and shittiness the way another artist might work in clay or stone.

She was on the phone outside of Starbucks when I got there.

As I passed by, I heard the semi-crappy comment being said almost in a whisper.

“I realize that I promised to help with the planning, but I am not a fan of family parties to begin with.”

Maybe I am just over-reacting to one of my own pet peeves. I come from a really close family that, if you ask for help, it will be provided. Its what family does.

Back to Dale.

Just before the door closed, her suddenly too loud voice yelled into her phone.

“Fuck you, Mary!”

I have no idea who Mary is or what crime she committed.

I figure she has had the shitty karmic luck to be related to this circus side show, but sister/cousin/niece? Who knows.

She finished soon after and came in, getting into line right behind me.

I happened to look back and made the fatal mistake of eye contact.

She seemed to recognize that she had spun every head in the place with her outburst.

“Sorry, you know how family are.” With a shrug.

I do know how family are, I have one of my own, and even as in your face and out of hand as we get there is a base respect and the understanding that you don’t shit on them by phone in public for asking for help with a family party.

But thats just me.

How it is in whatever passs for her dysfunctional trainwreck of a clan is anybodies guess.

And, as the line progresses, Dale is one of those people that talks to herself.

She is looking at the shelves of coffees and knick-knacks as we walk and commenting as we go.

I hate her even more, now.

Top 3 Dale comments:

  • “$15 for a bag of coffee beans? I don’t want to have sex with them, just coffee.” (I don’t know what sort of Craig’s List male whore she is hooking up with, but I hope wore a couple of condoms. You don’t want a lingering gift with this little honey.)
  • “Chocolate covered coffee beans? Ugh.” (Its a fucking coffee house! What is she expecting?)
  • “You could hold a gun to my head and I wouldn’t buy this.” (Don’t tease me.)

And then we got to the cashier.

Her coffee drink is a long, convoluted throw together of conflicting statements and half jokes that make no sense but makes her laugh.

She could have had a root canal in front of the register and it would have been less awkward.

And then the cherry on the Sunday of the order.

“My name is Dale. Dale. D-A-L-E. Dale.”

How could we ever forget?

She waits for her coffee like a mangled cat staking out a mouse hole.

When her coffee comes, she looks at it like someone took a shit on it.

She makes no move to reach for it, but she begins to question the barrista about each ingredient with a pissy scowl on her face.

The only question she did not ask, and maybe should have, was “Did you spit in this?” (And with her attitude, she should ask that question a LOT.)

A few minutes later she reluctantly takes her coffee.

The last thing I heard as I walked out the door was her on the phone with, presumably, poor Mary.

“No, I wasn’t upset at all, I just want you to understand that this is not a priority in my life. Dad and I have never gotten along well.”

Sorry, but even serious Daddy issues do not explain, excuse or exorcise this evil spirit.

It was less than a 10 minute encounter, but I will hear that voice in my nightmares.

“dale. Dale. DALE. D-A-L-E.”

May God have mercy on the world.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on July 8, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , ,

Shut the fuck up.

For God’s sake lady, shut the fuck up.

A radical new treatment to make yourself less annoying, brought to you by the caring doctors from the Bittermac medical center.

I am sitting in a favored Starbucks, getting a migraine.

There is a vile yenta at the next table that has been talking nonstop into her phone for 15 minutes.

She may or may not be breathing, there are no discernible pauses for breath.

It seems that if there is a thought in that fleshy head of her’s, it will come spilling out of her mouth.

Her voice reminds me of Gladys Kravitz from the old Bewitched show, always pitchy and a little too dramatic.

And she does not seem to have a topic, she just talks.

Think of a statue in a fountain, but instead of water shooting out of its mouth non-stop, day in, day out, its words.

She has talked about her job, whoever she is talking to on the phone’s job, her cat, her sister, her mother (Who she had the balls to call annoying. You hypocritical bitch, she would have to be a serial killer to be annoying compared to you.) politics, guns, pudding, Isis, Italians, Jews, (And prefacing your comment with “Not to be racist” is TOTALLY racist. But you are right about the Italians.) the police, rap music and last but not least, buying online.

She just abruptly got up and left, but her stench lingers.

I can still hear her voice.

Like a form of coffee shop PTSD, this woman may have damaged me.

There is only so much that the human brain can put up with before it snaps.

I may become some sort of deviant now as a coping mechanism.

Ok, more of a deviant.

Thank god for coffee.

When in doubt, have a solid cup of coffee and shit will sort itself out.

Opiate of the masses.

Some more than others.

“Was she  a yappy bitch or what?”

And a hush fell over the room.

Like a unicorn appearing to rescue you from evil, a homeless man at the next table has decided to voice what we all have been thinking.

Like a smelly prophet, he puts words to the feeling, the emotion that we all feel, but did it in a way that has spooked the herd.

Awesome.

And then the smell hits.

Ripe BO takes a little bit of the awesome out of the situation.

LIke lemon air freshener, it puts a little spin on the stench, but the stench is still there.

I wish I had some lemon air freshener.

What is the social stigma to pulling out a can of Lemon Fabreze and spritzing someone at the next table, all without saying anything?

Perhaps it is the type of thing that I could buy a pine tree air freshener and hang it around his neck as a gift?

But then it would smell like a pine tree with a dirty ass.

I realize that he is staring at me.

Great, I am his new friend.

No sudden moves, just keep it friendly.

“Right?”

That made him happy.

Happy homeless are less likely to attack and try to eat you. (Those who follow the news know this to be true. Why do people who use “Bathsalts” smell like that?)

The homeless guy left and I realize the similarity of Chatty bitch and the homeless guy.

Both left and their stench remains.

But, and this is an important thing, the smell of the homeless guy will fade.

But the psychic stench of Chatty Bitch will live on.

Mmmmm coffee.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on June 17, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Where the big fish swim.

“A cheese danish Betty? Are you off your diet…again?”

There is a special magic in the air when two 400+lbs women decide to shit on each other’s weight.

Its like a Disney animated movie, awesome and awe inspiring at the same time.

The woman who stood in the doorway of her glass house and threw the first stone, was shoveling a portion of what appeared to be the biggest bear claw I have ever seen into her festering gob.

(I would like to take a moment to apologize for my insensitive comments on a very sensitive topic. Being overweight. I mean, I am carrying a little extra myself, so you think I would hold off. Fuck it, we’re doing this.)

Woman number 2, technically the victim here, never even paused as she took a bite of the aforementioned cheese danish that was big enough to choke a French man. (The punch line there is that it is impossible to choke a French man, those fuckers do nothing BUT swallow. )

We will call her Betty. (There are maybe two people that understand why Betty is a funny name.)

Betty doesn’t miss a beat.

“Following your example, Barb. Diabetes hasn’t slowed you down one bit.” (There is an implied Fuck You that is almost impossible to miss. And with the name Barb, we get to call her Babs.)

Then next five minute are really hard to take, and I am in pain when the ladies pack up and leave.

I have almost shit myself at least 3 times trying hard not to laugh.

Here are the highlights:

  • Betty has gout, and Babs thinks that is funny. (This is a level of Rotten Bitch that even I will not attempt.)
  • Babs son’s business failed and somehow this is linked to him being gay. (There is a line of logic that they both seemed to know, but Babs dismissed with a muffled belch.)
  • Both women referred to each other as “You old whore”, “Bitch” and even the C-word was trotted out a few times. (They were like sailors on leave with those mouths.)

It was an unbelievable thing to witness two people that the normal societal expectations would make them brittle emotionally, but instead had given them bullet proof self esteem and a “Go fuck yourself” attitude that would daunt a biker gang.

They said what they wanted, did what they wanted could not give two shits what you think.

They laughed more in the 10 minutes that I witnessed than most people do in a hot weekend in Vegas.

And when they left the room was a little sadder for the loss.

I love big personalities especially when they are attached to people outside the norm.

You will never see pretty people (Pretty according to the mass media definition) being this brutal, self deprecating and aggressive.

Most people get too self aware and shy to make a scene like that in public.

Like walking sharks, the little fish get out of their way.

And the pastries are just chum in the water.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on September 18, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , ,

Bitchzilla

Nicolaus Copernicus was a mathematician and astronomer born in the late 1400’s, and was the first to posit the idea that the planets revolved around the sun. (Theres more to it, but thats basically it. And you should see the Wikipedia pic of him. He looks like a fuglier version of Ringo Starr.)

It was game changing for the scientific community.  

It was an obvious, basic truth that no one saw until he said it, one of those things you can’t unknow.

So why the Astronomy lesson today?

Because I would like to put forth my own theory, based on that same idea of Heliocentricity. (Remember that whole Sun thing?)

I call it iPhonecentricity. It is the theory that all life revolves around the iPhone.

Not mine, I turned mine in and went Android a few months back.

I mean hers.

Bitchzilla.

Bitchzilla isn’t a who as much as she is a what. Like some sort of sci fi monster of the mental/verbal realm, she is stomping all over the tranquility of the room. (Its a stretch, but it made me laugh and I am king here.)

She is a female, I am fairly certain of that. (There are breasts in evidence under her business suit with conservative skirt. However, she could be pulling a Bruce Jenner, “Call me, Caitlin.” Side note – Get your nuts wacked and I will.)

The Universe and all things in it, revolve around Bitchzilla’s iPhone 6 Plus.

I have been in line for a few minutes at Starbucks and I have so far heard Bitchzilla mention her iPhone 6 Plus 3 times.

She is on Bluetooth with someone who is somehow not having a stroke due to the verbal strobe of this woman’s screechy voice.

She also seems to be texting.

And she is switching screens to play Words with Friends.

And to hear her tell it? She is brilliant for having it.

(You didn’t invent it, you dizzy dumbass, you just paid too much for it. There IS a difference.)

I got my coffee and decided that with all the cycling I do, my heart could handle sitting next to Bitchzilla without risking permanent damage.

The nice thing about the iPhone 6 Plus is that the screen is big enough for me to see from 3 feet away.

Her words with friends game is not going well. Her opponent has 655 points, she has 52.

That was not a typo.

She is the queen of the 2 letter play.

No brains, no headaches.

By the way, she could take a hammer and smash the screen on purpose, ON PURPOSE and they will replace it, because she paid extra. (I only said on purpose twice, she said it 3 times.)

Her coffee drink looks like it has gone cold without a sip out of it.

I have seen meth addicts with better control.

Her digital crack is going to be the death of her.

She is totally the lady on the news that was texting while driving, didn’t look out the window for a 5 minute period because she had a badass 3 letter word to play on WWF and plows into a crowd of cancer victims.

And before you tsk tsk me, remember that more than half of you nodded your heads at that line before you chucked that rock of condemnation at my glass house.

So we’re all going to hell together, but my conscience will be clear.

And Bitchzilla will be at the head of that line.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on September 4, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , ,

Castration is a bitch.

For the record, Bruce Jenner is dyslexic.

I am not saying that this had anything to do with his gender reassignment.

But what if he went in for a vasectomy, and there was simply a misunderstanding.

Shit happens.

Does he miss his balls? Do they wonder what they did wrong?

Where they donated in some sort of “Testicular rescue” program?

Have they found a “Forever home”?

Will we see them on a Facebook post?

An infomercial plea for cash to save his balls with sorrowful Sarah McLaughlan music playing in the background.

That seems a little heavy handed for a set of nuts.

But I wouldn’t put it past Sarah.

Even with the airbrushing, Bruce has some pretty grim cheekbones.

But, go to any bar at last call and you will see guys pumping drinks into way fuglier women than Bruce will ever be. Or Caitlyn.

Whatever.

Honestly, I think the dividing line is the basic equipment.

You can’t just decide you are a woman and demand everyone change gears if you are still sporting a penis.

Take hormones all you like, but a dick is a dude and the ladies have lady bits.

At least Braitlyn chose the right time to do this.

The gender reassignment surgeries have hit their high point.

Google it and you will see some pretty gruesome pics of what they viewed as a “Success” 10-15 years ago in turning a man into a woman.

From an uneducated civilian point of view, it was a horror show of oddities that had more in common with an old school freak show than any sort of corrective surgery.

And someone (Actually several thousand) are living with that today.

Wonder what their sex life is like?

Wonder what Braitlyn’s sex life is like?

After all, he was married to the Unholy One, Kris Kardashian. (It has yet to be proven that she brokered Kim’s sex tape, but I have seen Hollywood premieres that did not roll out as smoothly and had less advanced notice in the press.)

Also never proven is how big a penis Kris has. But we all KNOW she has one.

Is that where Braitlyn decided being a man was no longer an option?

Chilling. Mean and funny to those with a twisted sense of humor, but chilling.

Which begs the question, when is Braitlyn’s sex tape coming out? That seems to be their MO.

Will we be able to actually see Kris’s face? Or will it be blurred out? Will Kim be in it? Probably, she is every bit the attention whore (Emphasis) that her unholy mommy is.

I never cared for oddity porn, just not my thing. If it’s yours, God bless, it’s your journey. Just wear a condom, for God’s sake.

What I can’t understand is that everyone is making such a big deal out of Braitlyn changing from man into woman, and no one has even mentioned Kris’s transformation from woman into “Babylon the Great, the Mother of Prostitutes and Abominations of the Earth.” (Revelations M-Fer!)

Just saying.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on June 5, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,