Tag Archives: tattoo

Who’s the bigger hoe?

Here we are, where we have been so many times before.

Two young 20 somethings in line at Starbucks.

The black dresses are a little wrinkled, makeup has got some sloppy city miles on it, the hair has that look like they were fighting off the bottom on the couch for a half hour before they took that show into the bedroom and taught that hairstyle the meaning of the word respect.

But it is the 6 inch hooker heels at 8 am on a Sunday that says, loud and clear…

Walk of shame.

Time for our favorite sexist gameshow –

“Who’s the bigger hoe?”™

Our first contestant, lets call her Tammy. (A little too much mascara from the night before and she is channeling a Tammy Fay Baker vibe. Google that and click “Images” when you see the pic of her crying with WAY too much mascara, you get it.)

Tammy was a pretty blonde with stylish long blonde hair…. yesterday. Today, she looks like she has “Jersey hair” and may have been initiated into the Hell’s Angels a few hours ago. (You can Google that, but its filthy.)

Tammy has a tattoo of the Chinese character for bread on the back of her neck. (I Googled that one myself.)

And she keeps talking about someone name Naldo. Lets assume that is who her stylist is this morning.

And now its time to meet our other contestant, Babs.

Babs is slightly older, and I am being generous here.

If I had to call it and I was being honest, I would have to say that Tammy probably dated Babs son at some point. When they broke up, Babs decided to finally become one of the popular kids and began hoeing around with her son’s ex.

To call her a peroxide blonde with fake tits is an insult to honest sluts everywhere.

She is trying way too hard and it shows.

So, after having missed out on the swimsuit competition, (And who doesn’t love a love in a bikini?) we move on to the talent portion of the show.

Tammy’s talent appears to be texting and it looks like she is good at it. The high point of her performance was when she looked up at Babs and talked for about a minute and never stopped texting the entire time.

It was impressive.

And now its Babs turn.

Babs talent is her core skill.

Being Slutty.

“What was Naldo’s friend’s name? He’s young enough to be my son!”

No shame, no morals, no brains, no headaches.

We have a runaway winner, it wasn’t even close.

Like a young Brando, she nailed it (And Naldo’s nameless friend) coming thru the door.

Impressive, and sad.

And I hope Naldo’s friend has health care, because the parting gift is an STD.

(I can only imagine the hate mail being generated as we speak. Sad thing is, I kind of agree with it, this is pretty vile, even for me. Unless of course, Babs is your mother, then that hoe is your problem, not mine.)


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Posted by on February 19, 2016 in Uncategorized


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She chose the thug life, it didn’t chose her.

A day of loss.

Every now and then, I turn around and suddenly have an “Oh Shit!” moment.

They are usually due to my own stupidity and the last 24 hours have been no exception to that rule.

The first Oh Shit happened last night at about 5:30pm.

I had finished the bicycle commute and just showered.

I was happy hour bound.
A cocktail at the end of my work week to take the edge off.. (Thursday is the end of my week. Odd story there.)

Put my pants on, and went to put my wallet in my pocket. (No pockets in my bike shorts.)

Oh Shit!

Left my wallet at work.

Made a call and got some coworkers involved in my little personal scavenger hunt.

Luckily, I keep spare cash at the house, so happy hour would be where I would await word of if I was only inconvenienced or truly screwed.

I was halfway thru my first libation when I got the text, life goes on, financially. My wallet was secured and waiting for me.

Suddenly, the drink tasted that much better.

Before I left, I decided to get some dinner to go.

As I was standing at the bar, waiting for my food, and surprise, having another drink, I met Betty.

Betty is the puzzle, in the conundrum, in the enigma.

Because there are parts that fit.

And parts that don’t.

Her hair is done in a “Gladys Kravis” mini boof hairdo from the 50’s.

Little old lady specs rest at the tip of her nose.

Her dress is a fashionable flower print moomoo, possibly a size 20.

Maybe in her mid to late 60’s.

I talked with her as I waited.

I was having a Dos Equis, one of my favorites.

Betty is having a vodka gimlet.

So you have the whole picture in your head of Betty, right?

Did I mention she has to full sleeves of tattoos?


It seems that Betty got a wild hair up her ass a few months ago when her granddaughter turned 18 and got a tattoo.

Betty loved it.

So, she turned on the new fangled “COM PEW TOR” that her son got her, and looked at tattoos on the internet.

And something happened to Betty.

I am not against tattoos, hell I have two good sized ones on my shoulders.

But Betty got an idea in her little squishy head and went on down to the local tattoo parlor.

And she told the tattoo artist to tattoo her arms with something that reflected life.

Those were her total instructions.

So the artist free-handed two sleeves in several sittings, giving Betty what she asked for.

Tattoos that reflected life.

The thug life.

To his credit, the tattoo artist definitely had some talent.

But, if I had to call it, the artist had a good amount of old school cholo and modern gangbanger.

The only other place I have seen tattoos this harsh was on convicts.

The “Laugh now, Cry later” theater masks are prominent on her left arm as it leaves the sleeve, with a picture of a beautiful topless young Latina beneath it. An evil clown with a joint sticking out of his lips has a gun to his head and just blew his brains out all over an 8-ball and a set of dice.

I was mesmerized at how wildly over the top this little sweet old lady’s tattoos went. On her right wrist was an angry pitbull being mounted by a larger pitbull.

Nobody went to the tattoo parlor with Betty to ask her what the fuck she was thinking that morning.

I am not against tattoos, but they should reflect your life.

Your thug life.

All of a sudden, my Oh Shit moment doesn’t seem like much.


Posted by on June 26, 2015 in Uncategorized


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