Ravers

I could simply end this post after the title, but I'll go on. I have a lot of friends who enjoy frying their brains and sticking glitter in their eyeballs and covering their arms in "candy" or multi colored beads from their wrists up to their armpits until they resemble the Michelin Man, so I'm not hating. Well okay maybe a little bit. Why is it every time that someone puts on a techno song in their presence they feel the need to describe what they would be feeling if they were at a rave at that very moment (which they are not)? They are lemmings. If there was a flashing light at the end of a cliff, they would undoubtedly follow it to their deaths. I mean I have never done ecstasy, but the closest I've come would be my escapades at the Spice Girls concert. But you don't see me seizing each time "Wannabe" comes on the radio, at least not in public and its just a little froth at the mouth which I promptly clean up. I pondered for a while as to how or why people even start raving. I guess every hoe wants another chance to dress like a slut when its not Halloween and I guess every guy needs his chance to dress in spandex and act out his homosexual tendencies. Which is something I wish they would do more often! Gay guys are so much more fun. Anyways. I can't even imagine a gaggle of sweaty unintelligible zombies touching me because they think my arm feels like cashmere (which it does, because I moisturize) heads-a-bobbin' in unison to flashing lights and music that does not cease. I mean they honestly turn into infants. How else do you describe people who can't talk, suck on pacifiers, are so easily entertained by the dumbest things and are dressed in outfits that say 3-6 months on the tag? Rave? Thanks, but no thanks. I'll drink six Venti Chai Tea Mistos and listen to Britney, its the same shit.

Back to Bitchiness

I know its been a while since I've bitched. But since college has once again commenced, needless to say I have much to bitch about. Speaking of college I just can't get that kid named Asher Roth out of my head. Who brain farted and gave him a record deal? To quote something from his clever warble,
"And don't have sex if she's too gone, When it comes to condoms put two on (Trust me)"

Pardon me? Trust you, you say? Clearly you can deduce from his words of wisdom that two is always better than one. Someone please direct this fool to Web MD or some shit. Putting on two condoms does not somehow shield you twice as much from the harsh elements of what is outside, much like wearing two sweaters on a cold winter's night while rubbing against the shingles(layman's term for Herpes) on the side of a house (it was a stretch). Needless to say Einstein Roth is a man of action rather than intellect. But I understand this song really speaks to the hearts (guts) of each beer guzzling, ping-pong playing Fratstar. In retrospect I think I am just upset that he scored a record deal while I was in the process of writing my ballad "I love Peanut Butter". Because fat people love peanut butter right? So I figured I could write a song about peanut butter because it will appeal to the majority of Americans who are coincidentally fat. But Asshole Roth snaked my shot in the spotlight by writing a song about dumb things that will appeal to the majority of college frat boys who are coincidentally dumb.

"That Peanut Butter last night was awfully tasty I wish I ate it
(I wish I ate it)
I stuffed my face full and had this one jar completely naked
Eat my peanut butter, lick the spoon, its for peanut butter that I swoon
(No ones invited, don't bring your friends)
Pass out at three, wake up at ten, go out to eat peanut butter then do it again

Man, I love peanut butter." Credit: Me

Don't try and steal it, this one's going platinum. Its that simple ladies and gentleman. I believe I even saw Asher Roth's idiot anthem on iTune's top ten sellers. Shame on iTunes for condoning such stupidity. And someone please alert Mr. Roth that using two condoms increases the chance of it tearing? God knows we don't need another Asher Roth spewing out fratness from his mouth hole. But the damage has been done. Its worse than what happened in Fantasia when Mickey demanded that the broom follow his words ("Repeat after me Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Freshman! Freshman! Freshman! Freshman!) . These people cannot be stopped, just like that broom they have splintered into a million weed smoking slackers. Oh Asher, to answer your question 'Do I really have to graduate? Or can you stay there for the rest of your life?'. You just made a million dollars, bitch.

Ignorant Bitches

Hey- if you're going to be a bitch at least don't be a stupid bitch. I mean lets get real here, I love to bitch, but I'm not that black lady with a government job from which I will never get fired cause government employees NEVER get fired when they should, tapping my 5 inch long nails on the keyboard and giving away attitude like it's samples of Teriyaki chicken from the Asian take-out restaurant @ the Mission Viejo Mall.
"Excuse me ma'am, I was wondering..."
"YOU'RE TALKIN' TOO FASSS, I CAN UNDERSTANNN YOU, NEXT!!!" -->OH HELL NO, I waited in this line, like every other waiting for your hateful ass to help me. As I slowed my roll and asked her again, she pretended once again not to hear me and then called her other (what do ya know) 40-something year old black female cohort to stare me down. My calm and submissive behavior apparently is somehow offensive to black women, cause as only a quarter black I apparently am not black enough for them and I do not posess the full arguing power that they do...but I do try. As I stood and calmly asked them again these ladies continued to tell me they couldn't help me and didn't know what I was talking about as their voices got louder and louder. WHY DO FULL AFRICAN AMERICANS WOMEN dislike me so much, I'm a quarter...but I look half? DO I FIT IN YET?!?!? Finallyyyy the little helpful Asian woman walked over and told me "they couldn't help me there based on what time of the day it is" but gladly gave me the phone number of the people who could help me. I thanked her and walked to my car, flipping those two bitches the bird via my imagination, because in real life you know if I did.... Latrelle (true story this was her name) would high-five me across the face and her BFF would chase me down and slit my throat with those nails of hers. I got in the car and drove off, I dialed the number and while I waited for some grown man game for mah bluetooth, I soon realized she gave me the wrong number. If you're wondering where this nonsense took place...it would be at none other than the post office. DOWN WITH RED-TAPE BUREACRACY !! FIRE THESE BITCHES !!!

Open letter to Christian Dior

Dear Christian,
I hate you. My eyelashes hate you. You have stolen something from my reddened eye sockets; three layers of skin, they want them BACK! I am writing you this to let you know I will be discontinuing the purchase and use of your $36 "Dior Blackout Waterproof Mascara". When you think of waterproof, what comes to mind? When would you want to use such a product? When there is water/ and or liquid flying around your face and you would not be interested in resembling the girls that work at the Mac counter or a raccoon. Maybe if you plan on squirting a few tears: wedding, funeral, watching the notebook...etc. But regardless you either have the choice of spending $72 on two Dior mascaras one which does not prohibit emo black streams down your face and the other mascara that is just WAITING to fuck up your face or the choice to make a life changing decision to purchase only one. I think they should change the name of the second one to "Dior Blackout DARE". Dare you to fucking sneeze, Dare you to move your eyeballs or blink cause as soon as you do it seems as if your eyelids have slipped and fell into the ocean and now its a race across the English Channel to your chin. Or you could just buy one right? Cause you'll never know when PMS will kick in and its Niagara falls and Blackout all over your face. For some GOD AWFUL reason I decided to purchase the waterproof mascara. Was I raised by wolves? Was I beaten as a child? What mishap early on in life could have contributed to me making such a horrible, horrible decision. I don't know wtf happened but all I know is as I unsuspectingly applied its blackness to my eyelashes it was seeping in to my soul. I first noticed its devilry as I blinked when I was putting it on and it went under my eyes a little, no biggie right? Thinking I'd come back later and fix that shit after it was dry. So I continued driving and when I parked to go to my appointment I went to wipe it off. Nothing. Oh Okay, I'll grab a paper towel and put water on it and then wipe it off. Nothing. I rub harder. Nothing. What? A little harder, a new paper towel this time. Ow. Ow. Oww. What the...WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF FUCKERY IS THIS!!!!!! I fell on my knees waving my fist to the air, cursing Christian's name to the Gods. In writhing pain I drove home because despite my agonizing ten minute fight with the mascara on the battleground of my poor peepers, it only made the mess under my eyes worse and needless to say I looked a red-eyed hot pile of tranny mess and could not make my appointment. When I arrived back home, despite my best efforts and 6 pads of makeup removers, lotion, and a little elbow grease ( not to sure where it comes from or what it is), I couldn't get it off!!! Lost many eyelashes in my scuffle... brings a tear to my eyes even talking about it now. Shittttttt here we go. Anyways next time you try to sell a product such as this CHRISTIAN, how about offering a disclaimer: NOTE FROM SURGEON GENERAL: DO NOT BUY. Or maybe offer a coupon for $10 off a sandblaster to help remove excess mascara. bitch.

Disgusting Bitches

People who are too forth-giving scare the shit out of me. This is perhaps the tenth time this has happened to me, patiently waiting for my Starbucks and when asked what type of milk they would like in their latte or what not, the patron in front of me responds, "oh soy milk, I'm lactose intolerant." WHAT THE FUCK. Maybe you need to go to WebMD or pick up a book. Clearly you do not suffer from such an ailment or you would not be willing to give that information publicly to ANYONE. Or maybe you are just unaware that people know the symptoms of being lactose intolerant. Explosive Diarrhea anyone? DISGUSTING!!!! Good G-d, do you realize that everyone in Starbucks within a twenty foot radius now knows it possibly comes out of both ends in a projectile manner? It amazes me when people tell you this ever so nonchalantly, sick bitches.

Final Bitches

Finals. Not only finals but finals in worthless classes. Business calculus, 'nuff said. The letter "B" sends a shiver down my spine unless it is finished correctly with "-itch" at the end. Because we all know that my failure to learn (or be taught) derivatives correctly will end up some disaster of epic proportions. Planets will fall out of the sky, cats and dogs having babies, Michael Jackson will go back to being black, all sorts of crazy shit. My contribution to mathematics that I would have had later on in life will suffer, which could have one day calculated some sort of equation for world peace or the cure for bicyclists. The test is cumulative? Right, because I didn't understand it on the first test, you're gunna spank me cause I don't know it this time again. You do know that I have four other finals and you're still going to do this to me? But of course you already knew that. But at a private Christian school such as Pepperdine, its soooo much more than that. Its not only that I don't understand Business Calculus, in reality the devil has sucked my soul through my butt. "B-?!" Next thing you know they'll douse me with holy water and be compelling my soul by the power of Christ. And thats another thing...I actually get graded on my drawings of Jesus and other "reflections on Christ". I'm not bitching about that though, cause this bitch can draw a mean middle aged Jesus and I Aced that shit. Finals encourage the use of over the counter crack a.k.a. adderall, it can also induce insomnia and panic attacks. As well as a serious case of acne and weight gain for those who aren't cracked out and turn to a tub of Ben and Jerry's for comfort (fatties). I have bed sores from sitting in a cubicle, I kid you not. Oh and since when was the word "library", code word for loud-annoying-bitches? Take you're sewing circle elsewhere! I'm here to learn Calculus and enjoy it! It also forces semi-sane people like myself to go off the deep end, living solely off of gallons of iced coffee, packs of cigarettes and ONE jar of extra crunchy peanut butter for a week. I dare you to go up to someone who works for a "shmuisness" and inquire, "Do you know what the partial second derivative of 'x' is in respect to..." and before you can finish that sentence, the mofo will hit you with a fuckin' upper cut and a kick in the crotch. Then he'll begin to seize on the ground and as you go to help him off the ground, he then darts away screaming and ripping off all of his clothes. It's like they say about acid, after you take it you store all that crazy shit until you are reminded of it years later. I think my flashbacks will fall in place nicely sometime near my imminent middle aged crisis. 

A Bitch about Religion

This was sent in, a little bitchy rant about his bitch fight with religion. Insightful for those who say pooh-pooh on jebus. I for one, believe in G-d although he can put a bitch in her place sometimes, you know what I sayin'? But here she goes-->

By the time I was in 8th grade I had more or less come to the conclusion that religion was a complete farce. I had too many questions, and religion had an even more impressive list of ambiguous “answers”. These days I spend quite a bit of time bending my mind around the notion of religion, but more in it’s ability to blind and inhibit free thought and one’s own independence. Religion is a tool of conformity and a catalyst for a moral society. To me, religion is but an excuse for mankind’s unending pursuit of the impossible- for immortality, or to live forever. But nothing lives forever. Sure, religion could be plausible if the world was all that was, and ever would be. But it isn’t, and most people are too ignorant and concerned with their own lives to realize that, let alone think it. Imagine a galaxy as a pea, well there are enough galaxies, or peas, to fill a football stadium. Earth resides in the Milky Way, but one of those peas. How can life not exist on one planet of one other galaxy? We would be awfully selfish to think the contrary. Death is inevitable. Planets die, even stars. One day, in the distant future, our sun will burn out. Our sun is the most legitimate of all gods or religions. Without the sun, our or any existence would be impossible. Most Christians in America forget that other religions even exist, but in reality Muslims far outnumber believers in Jesus Christ. Who’s to say whose religion is the right one? Do you really believe that bad deeds will land you in Hell, a fiery inferno imbedded in the depths of Earth? Or do you believe in a utopia far above the clouds where you will reside for an eternity? Religion coincides directly with today’s society and it’s mantra. We work, work, work, but for what? To make as much green paper as possible to buy things we really don’t even need. The things that mean most in life cant be bought by paper, and if you haven’t learned that you have no business reading this. But hey, you’re going to heaven right? No. Think about life for one second without religion. Your treasure isn’t in heaven, it’s right here. Thoreau’s Walden made clear these thoughts that plagued my mind as a child. It all just didn’t make sense. As Thoreau said, “the life of a working man is a fool’s life, as he will realize once he gets to the end of it”. I’m not renouncing work, for I wouldn’t be anywhere without working, and I wouldn’t forfeit my education for anything. It’s education that landed me where I am today, and why I’m typing this now. The point is, that I’ll be damned if I get to the end of this life and wish I had done it any different, because this is my life and this is all I have. As Bob Dylan once said to a reporter, “What do we really know? Nothing. One day you will die and the world will go on without you. Now, how can you take anything you do seriously knowing that?” Simply put, I believe in the real and in what is tangible, not in the supernatural. If you see life the way I do, someone who worships and stakes their life on the belief of a man who had supernatural powers, is far crazier than I am. If anything, I only wish that people would think on a larger scale than that of their own lives, which are in essence, meaningless in the grand scheme of things. We are fed bullshit from the day we are born. If you go your whole life accepting and adopting the ideals bestowed upon you without questioning their origin, purpose, or legitimacy, you are an idiot. Thomas Paine (who saw science as the true theology), arguably had the greatest influence in pushing colonial America toward independence, and said, “I believe in the equality of man; and I believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy, and endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy.” Now, this is “religion”, or at least what it ought to be.

"Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?"
-Blair

Facebook Bitches

ATTN: Facebook and Myspace "models". No one cares, except me. I care because I know its not going to be good day if I haven't logged on to Facebook and been able to pop a few blood vessels in my eyes in choking uncontrollable laughter. You brighten up my day. I must say I'm jealous, I wont lie to you. I'm jealous that you have hours of free time in preparation for your iphoto-shoot and hours of free time to photoshop the shit out of it afterwards. I'm jealous that you have more friends than me or at least you think so for the reason that you use the amount of photo comments you get as an indicator of who you are. The oops-you-caught-me face isn't fooling anyone, your macbook doesn't accidentally take a picture of you in your bra and if it did, it would crack up in laughter and say, "hahahah I'm just kidding bitch, imma delete it. no one wants to see that shit". It'd be right. I mean I don't mean to be a bitch or anything, but if you like looking obnoxious in pictures or film, go get a job on the Disney channel or something.

Bicycle Bitches

Living in a wealthy community such as Malibu it is only right that we have and will continue to be one of the leaders in the greater Los Angeles Area in funding research for widespread diseases. Well have your heard about Bicyclists? Oh yes, its this new disease where human beings have actually fused together with black/and or multi-color spandex and ride aimlessly into oncoming traffic. Perhaps their inner-ears have been damaged causing serious Vertigo and they are unaware of where they are going or that they are acting like a car. Or maybe they're born with it or maybe its the spandex cutting off circulation to their brains, perhaps blood flow is being rerouting to their over-sized calves. Who knows! I'll def have to Web MD that shit, cause I know I'll need an excuse for my insurance company as to why I should NOT be responsible for my imminent car crash caused by fucking bicyclists acting like they own the road. Not only must we find a cure for this epidemic, but take preventative measures to ensure these two-wheeling granola eating dipshits are off the road for good. I'm thinking castration, immediately stopping the production of spandex, quarantine (to stop the further spread of) or sending them to the Isle of Lepers. Systematic elimination would be the last resort. This sickness is spreading in the media and among celebrities and is influencing youth as well as middle aged men. The funny thing is, is that they have nowhere to be (indicated by the time of day they're biking around, which would be...all day or mainly during prime-clusterfuck of PCH traffic) and therefore should be in no hurry to cut me off and take up the entire lane. Get a motorcycle or something, something thats cool with a side car or an extra seat to put some hot bitch who looks like Beth from Dog the Bounty Hunter. When you pass them they look at you like "how dare you"...how dare I? Uh, have you heard of the bike lane? Hence the name...BIKE in YOUR lane or get a car. So please folks, join me in raising money to cure this wretched bicycle disease before it spreads to your loved one.

Frat Bitches

"Didn't you wear that shirt on Tuesday?"...said the knuckle-dragging neanderthalistic (I made that word up) frat boy when I walked past him today. Speechless. I was effing speechless. DON'T YOU WEAR THAT STUPID FACE EVERYDAY? And you actually wear that same dirty fugly ass hat backwards or sideways each day in class, but I don't call you out on your fashion faux-pas. Or the polo you wear with such wanna-be swagger, complete with oakleys (bahahahha) neatly hung on your collar and flip-flops. I wanted to kick him in the vajay. Thats right...vajay. Because only a female would notice something such as a clothing double-dip in the same week. I don't know your name, I don't know where you come from, BUT I guarantee I do know you're listening to Avril Lavigne's "Sk8ter Boi" on your ipod right now. As I felt the pig's blood run down my face I waited for my telekinesis to kick in, much to my dismay it did not. I would have really liked for him to fall down the stairs (don't worry he would have safely landed on one of his 12 packs of fat) and roll away into the Pacific. 

Classroom Bitches

Bob Dole and John McCain's love-child aka my teacher; a semi-bitter, youth-hating educator shuffled across the classroom. Humming but humming no particular song just doing it cause he damn pleases. I couldn't quite figure out why he was doing this, but then again as a lecturer it is ingrained in his being to love the sound of his own voice. Somewhere in his monotonous mouth diarrhea and he decided to switch it up.  He got really tensed up about whatever drivel he was blabbing about and shot his laser beam eye sockets in my direction. Usually its someone else instead of me but NO. Today it was my turn to do the awkward Mexican eyeball stand-off. Fuck. As his eyes grew larger and his voice louder I desperately wanted to scream "FUCK IT!" and run out of the classroom, its just that vomit-inducing type of awkward. On a typical day I'd sit in the front row to be a kiss-ass but this time it really back-fired in my face... literally. I'll would way rather sit in the back, lest I am forced to do Matrix style maneuvers to avoid your spittle as it flies out of your face. He purposely pronounces the word Paris as "Paree"  or mature as "matoor", gahhhhd shut uppppp we know you're educated and shit no need to tap dance while you're up there. Amidst dodging your spit bullets, I am writing as fast as I can (since he does not allow us to use a computer to take notes) and I can feel my creeping carpal tunnel syndrome in my wrist...for which I will hate him forever. I quickly glanced away to escape his corneas but my efforts were futile. A whole 7 seconds later I looked back up and to my horror he was still staring at me sending death beams of boredom to my brain. When he's not off on a tangent his head seems to bobble to the beat of his voice. Or when he's not speaking directly to me, he is pacing back and forth walking to and fro from his podium to the desks. In reality he's just getting his eye level genitalia farrrrr to close to my face as I tremble in the front row. But usually I spend more time thinking about this ginger I pass on my way to class...perhaps the weirdest looking human being on the face of this earth. I must be friends with it. You could probably write a screen play on the weird shit that floats around his dome. I would legit take up the hobby of watercolors just to paint him, like Leo did. 

Greedy Homeless Bitches

Um yuh sleep in an underpass and you smell like piss, but you won't take the rice I so kindly tried to give you? NO. Instead you want the entree, uh-uh sweetie it ain't happenin'. I walked out of a chinese restaurant in Marina Del Rey and had rice that I wasn't going to eat since I like haven't had a carb since like 2001 and I offered it to him. He gawked at me as if I had just offered him cat shit on a plate. WTF is it with greedy-ass homeless people in LA? I offer you $2 you want a 20, all you want is MORE MORE MORE. Your lovely yellow hair and your tales-from-the-crypt keeper cape shook with anger when I declined to give you what I had ordered for myself. You threw the rice cup back at me. I vacillated over the idea of stealing your cup of change and buying a drum of rice and then forcing you to eat it. I'm not being self-righteous but when you do a damn good thing you at least deserve a little damn smile in return. And I don't usually feel the need to drive my little self-righteous cab round-town and toot my own horn.... but toot effing toot. And its like instead of waving his little homeless hand back at me he flips the bird. Well eff you right back Mr. Happy, I know you may have a pooped your pants during our scuffle but you should just walk away right? NO. He proceeds to chase me away. HOW...seriously how do you become greedy and want more when you don't really have anything? What happened to a "please and thank you miss" how about a "god bless you", shit I donate like a million dollars to the homeless teen funds that those people who are on every corner send you into a pity spiral if you dont. (OH AND THATS ANOTHER THING..."oh sorry I don't have any cash" WHY DO THEY TAKE CHECK AND CARDS NOW TOO?) So long story short NO, I will not buy your oranges (unless you have a dog) when I drive by anymore...in fact I'm gunna steal your markers you use to make signs. How dareeeeeeeeeeee you reject my rice. 

STARBUCKS, MEIN KAMPF

As I waltzed into Starbucks this shitty morning, supporting my local Pavilions as well as my Java addiction I was stopped dead in my tracks. "YOU!" I said, clearly forgetting that I have problems controlling my inner-monologue (hence the bitch blogging) . For my fellow Pepperdine students as well as Malibu locals who know that random dude that works at Starbucks (for these purposes we'll name him paininmyass because we all know looking at his name tag straight in the eye would burn my corneas straight through my head with some sort of paininmyass magic) was standing straight in front of me. Good God, do I kick him in the shin and run the other way? No. I needed my coffee fix or it would have sadly been someone else who had to perish. He started doing this "disco" dance move gyrating and using his index finger, proceeded to move his arm diagonally. Before I could even comprehend wtf he was doing he oozed out of his mouth, "You look like you're going to a Disco" pointing to my shiny shirt. I died a little inside, I'm not going to lie. I said a little prayer that he was busy doing something else and not actually working at Starbucks. How wrong I was. He skipped past me behind the counter and proceeded to purposely stare me straight in the eyes. I was in NO MOOD for his shenanigans needless to say so I quickly gave him my order. Paininmyass proceeds to tell me "They're out of coffee". Holding myself back from climbing across the counter and driving a straw into his eye, I just stared back. He waited and then started hysterically laughing while everyone else behind me watching in horror. SINCE WHEN DOES ON THE STARBUCKS JOB APPLICATION MAKE "ANNOYING AS FUCK" A REQUIREMENT. Attention all Baristas.... can I get a little shut the hell up before 10 am? HELLO Paininmyass we are not friends, we will never be friends. 

Anyways he goes to hand me my drink and as my little heart lit up with joy, the mofo snatches it back. Oh wow. What I really wanted to do was throw it in his face, buttttttt I decided to wait patiently for him to tire his one brain cell out with stupid jokes and hand me my drink. I glanced at my phone, 1050. OH NO, YOU DIDNT. I had to get to class and park by 11. I go to run out of that bitch and I heard him, "Wait! You forgot something" I ran back. NOTHING. I left nothing. GOD DAMN IT. He cackled again and once again I died a little inside. I am boycotting Pavilions Starbucks. Cant a girl get a Venti Sugar-Free-Vanilla Soy Latte without this drama? 

Welcome Bitches to My Bitch Blog. If you're looking for random bits of bitch, then you've come to the right place. Someone give you the stink-eye in the check out line? Lets bitch about it. I'll share, you share and we've got something straight out of Sesame Street. <3