I am starting to not feel alone in this world. I am sure you must know by now but I am truly the biggest bitch in the world. I wear that crown with pride! Not everyone can be the biggest bitch in the world though there can be variations (prettiest, ugliest, funniest, meanest, happiest, saddest, etc).
It makes me happy to be able to find any topic and somehow manager to squeak out a bitch or two. So here we go:
Work-- Wilbur is about to get shanked, skinned and BBQ'd. I hate that fat motherfucker. He assumes that I am a slut, a drug addict and a bitch. Well I am one of those things and could be another (which ones???) but he doesn't know me well enough to comment on the shit I say. I am not even talking to Mr. BO but he manages to put his 2 cents in where it isn't wanted. I do say to him, "Shut the fuck up, ass. I have smoked weed once. Just b/c I know about Ice doesn't mean I do it. You know about sex. That doesn't mean you do it." He SO shouldn't be in a room full of girls. It isn't working out.
Home-- If that cocksuking ass of mine doesn't start yelling at our kids more than I am going to castrate him with my teeth and spit his balls in his face. I cannot handle being the only disciplinarian. I mean I can and did for several months, hell years if you are counting, but seriously. I am taking 15 hours and working full time. My mind is maxed out for the moment. If he wants to keep up the magical sex we have been having he better start whipping some ass!
School-- Speaking of shanking, that short piece of shit teaching my Humanities class better watch his back. That b+ I got on the last paper was the final straw. He is in my sights and I am about to put a cap in his bald-headed ass.
Food-- I love food. If I could hygienically mix food in with sex I would be too big to move. I am bitching that fat isn't in. Doesn't it mean good times? I am really trying to justify why I can eat like I have been since my dick has been back home. We are gaining weight and will soon look like Wilbur. That man hasn't seen his balls in years and years. Doesn't he miss them?
I am out of steam. I mean, if this was a live chat I am sure that I could bitch forever but I am out of fuel and am pretty happy right now. I was fucked well about half an hour ago. I really think I held on to C all of these years b/c that man can eat p**** like no one else. If he were paralyzed I would keep him (if for no other reason than) because his tongue is *magic*! I am not bitching there. In fact he probably does because I am a lazy bitch in bed just laying there letting him please me. It rocks. Smile.
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6 comments:
Next time you've got a humanities paper to write, you've got to figure out what about the topic makes you mad and then write. You write best when you're mad. You can see mad dripping off the words. That's why I love you.
Oh, this had me crying with laughter!
Like I said in the CF board room, Bow chicka waa waa...
I agree w/ JW here. YOu rock when you get that angry passion going
Pretentious literary criticism makes me angry. If I wrote as well when angry, that's the subject I'd choose!
I think our next big list after "I am ashamed" and "I am proud" should be "I am pissed." I mean, I know we do that anyway, but I like the list format for it; cool post!
I think I could come up with so many fucking things to be pissed about I would never stop writing. i don't think that it is that I am that mad but that I feel like I am that superior?! You ladies make me blush with your compliments. If I can do one thing well at least it is bitching and not sewing.
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