Picture This

Minding my sweet, sweet little business and driving down PCH, to my HORROR out of the corner of my eye I first saw what I thought was a leather hand bag in a sultry shade of brown driving a black compact car, was actually a woman in her eighties swerving into my lane. I screeched like the little bitch I am and with my feline-like reflexes I managed to preclude a severe side swipe from Grandma Death by swerving into the other lane, which was coincidentally Southbound oncoming traffic. While swerving back into my lane and trying to compose myself, wrinkles speeds up and flips me off! Clearly she suffered from some sort of age related ailment such as Alzheimer's Disease as she must have forgotten what had just occurred was clearly her g-d damned fault. Interestingly she had a marlboro cigarette or some shit dangling from the corner of what I think was some hole in her face and even more engrossing was that old Nana Ramshackle was driving a Prius. Ohh its too good. Throwing her cigarette out of her mouth and rolling her window down, she began to taunt me with her left bingo wing out of the car window. I may have just had the fear of G-d put into me, I was disoriented and in serious need of a Diet Coke with a straw, but nothing could have shielded me from the pasty white globule that was in the back seat. Grandma Demode's perhaps 11 year old (I'm assuming) brute-of-a-grand-beast wearing a cut off, balled his well-upholstered stumpy fingers into fist and shook it at me. I slowed down as you cannot compete with this sort of craziness and quite flustered the Primordial Creature and her varmint sped off to fill their daily quota of harvested souls. I was not going to throw down with her, and not because she's old but because needless to say she would take me out and fuck me in the street. Why are the people who drive Priuses and other "environmentally conscious" cars the biggest crazies? Blah Blah Blah, they're saving the environment by not purchasing as much gas. I call it being cheap. Hippie Bitches. But I guess its not their fault as they have been severely disillusioned that spending an unnecessary amount of money (thanks but I'll take quality over practicality ANY day) will somehow save the environment. Go over 45 mph and you're burning gas. And as we know these people are all crazy so guaranteed at any given time they will be traveling at a speed that is double the speed limit and killing one endangered animal at a time. But then again a little smog never hurt no one, cause I like me a purple and pink sunset! So burn that fossil fuel honey, were all going to hell in a hand basket.

People with Weird Names

Why are people with weird or "different" names so annoying? I mean I hear you talking about it before the teacher takes roll on the first day of class, I hear you giggle, sigh loudly or bitch about it when our teacher chokes on the flem that is produced when trying to speak your name. There is always that subsequent response, "My friends call me this," or "Just call me this" and its always worse than the individual's real name to begin with... Mental note, not to EVER speak to you, lest I am forced to mispronounce your name and never hear the end of it. It's not edgy, its dumb. And I will most likely try to avoid the fateful day when its comes time for group projects, as I assume your parents obvious stupidity which resulted in the odd misspelling of your name, has most likely been passed through on to you. FUCK, you're in my group. WHY, you ask? Oh, I know why, because my teacher facilitates this inevitable pseudo "friendship" that last for approximately three weeks, because I too have had an awkward first day when it comes time for roll call. We share some sort of sick, twisted common ground. Cameron? My teacher looks around for some dude with a beer gut. ITS ELEMENTARY MY DEAR WATSON! Is it possible that my parents too could have made the portentous decision to name me after a boy? Actually I think I was named after some slutty girlfriend my uncle had in college, or her dog...I forget. And then when I raise my hand my teacher smiles awwwww. LOOK WHO WE GOT UP THERE CLASS....FUCKING NANCY DREW! Yeah I'm a chick. But instead of correcting my teacher and say its "Cami," I'll avoid the hooker names that come along with the misunderstanding of when I correct them. "Candy?" NO. "Tammy" NO. "Kimmie" NO. "Sandy" NO!!! Why did your parents just changed that last letter, OHHH sweet baby jeebus how it would spare me the mental torment, how it would not physically hurt me to hear your name. Leonard I hate you, oh I'm sorry its pronounced LEO-noard.

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 !!!