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.