1. Dear any and all future grocery line participants,
Stop finding it necessary to be assholes. Why do you have an urge to make comments about a strangers purchases. If you’re standing behind someone in line only use your god given brain to think of ways to not be a douchebag. Please control your uncivilized ways, and refrain from telling me a product isn’t good for me. Opening your mouth prolly isn’t good for you. As an added bonus you’ve chosen to in no way say this with a hint of concerned tone. Raging bitch tone will only get your ass run over in the parking lot. Purely by accident of course.
2. Sometimes I am legit angry our dogs can’t talk. When I ask, ” Who did this!?” Every ounce of my being really wants and expects an answer.
3. I have a former boss that I secretly wish to bump into one random day. Just the universe giving me a chance for a rare opportunity. I picture strolling down the street–any street, and we’re walking toward each other in what feels like slow motion. I merely say, “Hey.” And they stop against their better judgement. After four seconds of fake pleasantries I take my chance to verbally rape them sideways, and I own the shit out of this moment. I unleash my inner Kraken and they walk away emotionally annihilated. Their spine is sore from the cerebral assault, and from that day forward walk with a slight limp. But a microscopic honest part of them know they deserve it. They update their Twitter: Being verbally bitch slapped makes me sad. I hate karma. Sad face. FML.
Or…I’m in my car and run them over as they cross the street…another unfortunate accident. Either one will do
4. I’ve got it in my head if someone sports the look of a sweater tied around their neck they must be a complete tool. Also, I now feel the phrase, “sports the look” sounds douche-y, and I will never utter it again.
5. I strongly dislike movies being re-released in 3D. I’m looking at you Titanic. Why don’t we all just go drop a Grand ($50-average cost for small family of movie goers if you want a soda) on James Cameron’s doorstep for Christs-sake, so he can make another billion dollars without assaulting the public again with an over the top love story on a big ass sinking ship.
6. I think it would be a rip-roaring good time, full of merriment, and wonder to expose every jacked up thing my ex-husband has done that I have knowledge of to his girlfriend. It may sound a bit petty and spiteful, but I insist it wouldn’t be undeserving. Doesn’t she have a right to know who she’s really with, and what he is really capable of?
Of course I won’t. Unless sweet baby Jesus shines upon me, and she asks a direct question about him. Fortunately, I am not a liar. Which would force me to spew truth and knowledge in her face. Amen.
7. If my daughter came to me, and said she wanted to be a professional dancer, and to make that happen I had to get her into Abby Lee Miller’s dance studio, I would tell her to shut that shit down. Dance Moms is a reality show that features this heinous woman. Miller told her pre-teen students before a performance, “The audience should think your nude.” And for them to have the mind-set, “You want me, you can’t have me, you can’t afford me!”
What the ever lovin’ donkey balls is wrong with this bat shit crazy woman. Find clips or check out the show, because the insanity goes on and on. I would tell my child she might as well go audition for a booty shaken, crotch flashin’, music video whore. The mental abuse, trauma and feeling of being degraded would be far less.
Miller said her methods might seem like she’s pushing boundaries, but “the proof is in the pudding,” because former students dance at Tokyo Disney. That is every little American girls dream after all.
8. I miss going to the mall to people watch. The shit talking in my own head was the stuff of legends…I’m sure of it. The shit talking with friends was even better. Ripping people new assholes behind their backs is totally okay, as long as they don’t hear you. It was all in good fun, and we would laugh until we peed a little in our granny panties. If it’s not funny, well, then it just becomes pointless and mean. It’s like being a comedic commentator on one of those VH1 we need a humorous unsolicited opinion on everything shows. (I Love The 80’s is the shit)
9. I remember everything people say to me. If you don’t want me to hold all you say to me close to my soul, and use it against you in my own court of Leah’s law, then think before you speak…snatches.