What sucks hairy elephant balls? Mondays.

Mondays. Mun-fucking-days. They all suck, but what sucks hairy elephant balls? This muthafuckin' Monday. I was on my way to work, running on time (about 10 minutes late) as usual, and listening to some soothing tunes (Eminem) when I started getting irritated at the asshole in front of me who wouldn't pass despite being in the passing lane. This blocked me in on the far left lane and my exit to the right was coming up. I was a couple of car lengths behind the fucker with some douchenugget riding my ass so hard I thought he should be paying me for the privilege. When the numb nuts in front of me finally figured out how the gas pedal works, I was about to miss my exit. I sped past him, switched lanes and made my exit just in time. Fuck yeah! Fist pumping and feeling the Eminem rhythm, I rapped along like a fucking white rapper prodigy. Soon I heard sirens and realized it was NOT coming from my stereo. Son.of.a.cuntard.bitch. Are you fucking kidding me?
 
Wouldn't you know I'd get the cop with an ego hard-on so big you just know he's either:

A) pissed that he didn't get laid before his shift or

B) furious about his pinky dick and has to act like an asshole to make up for the maggot-sized appendage he jacks off between his finger and thumb.

He was one angry little man, head barely clearing the bottom of my SUV's window, yelling about how I should have pulled over ON THE EXIT RAMP of an interstate rather than waited to pull over in a spot I felt safe in. Had I done that both my car and his would have been straddling the nonexistent shoulder line: "Sorry officer, I'd rather not have your torso get chopped in half by a semi and blood sprayed over my newly washed vehicle, and ruin my fuckin' holidays."

He also didn't like when I politely asked what the fuck I had done to get pulled over. With spittle flying from his mouth like a rabid dog he berated me for not having the sense to know what the hell I had done wrong. Remember the part where some goddam asshat was nosing around my tail end like he was trying to get the courage to ass rape the tail pipe of my SUV? It was this angry munchkin in his unmarked patrol car. Sorry sir, are you upset that I was blocking you from passing? Because it was the fault of the fucktard in front of me. The raving Oompa Loompa was not amused. He stalked back to his patrol car with my license, his little bowlegs making it appear the baton in his ass was moving further north into a more uncomfortable position.

He was gone for a little while, intimidation tactic I presume, so I had cranked up some Eazy-E "Boyz N The Hood" and threw down "Cruising down the street in my 6-4, Jocking the freaks, clocking the dough" when my chunk of a midget stalked back over. Judging from more pleasant scowl on his face he either realized this Bitch has zero points deducted from her driving record or he wanked one off in his car. Can't say I'd blame a muthafucka...I'm pretty fucking hot, even in my license picture.

Officer Munchkin gruffly informed me that he was letting me go with a warning. I smiled and said "thank you sir" while reaching for my license. With one more attempt at asserting his dominance, he told me to say it louder and like I meant it. Hold.the.fuck.up. Say WHAT? I just stared at Officer Jackass until he let my license go.

I'm grateful the asshat didn't give me a ticket. But I don't care what fucking color your uniform is, I'm not your whipping dog and I certainly will not allow you to get your rocks off by acting like you're better than me. Welcome to my muthafuckin' Monday, Bitches. 

He's a douchebag doing what douchebags do best...being douchey

All it takes is a douchebag to open his mouth and rank shit comes forth. Add the internet and social media to the mix and you have the perfect shit storm. Take Abercrombie & Fitch CEO Mike Jeffries - 7 years ago he spewed elitist nonsense when he said A&F's clientele target is the cool, beautiful kids...not the fatties. Ok, he didn't say it JUST like that, but awfully damn close. In 2006, Mikey-boy told Salon.com, ”We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely.” Of course this drew outrage in 2006, but it died down. Fast-forward 7 years when Mikey's words came back to bite him in the ass and went viral. Suddenly everyone is pissed. They're offended. Why? Because on a broader scale, everyone is finally understanding that Mikey is an elitist asshole.

Look at me, Dude! I'm cool and shit. Check out my
plump lips and bulging biceps man. That's hot.

I'm sure people think I'm going to rip into the surgically altered frat boy (his plastic surgeon should be fired) and tear him a new asshole. Meh. Who fucking cares? I don't know about you, but I have zero fucks to give. Fucks are expensive and I don't just throw them out there. How many of us actually shop at A&F anyway? I'm a 30 something year old woman. I'm not shopping there. My kids spend their money where I let them. And it isn't at A&F. Why give the douchecanoe power by getting upset over his idea of marketing a business? Douchey Mikey has come out and said what other retailers practice but don't verbalize. Honestly, I'm kind of impressed that he knows he's a dick and doesn't back down from it. Either way, he isn't getting MY money. And other than this, he isn't getting any more of my time talking about it.

Don't fuck with my kid or I'll fart on you

After Principal Douchebag ignored me and taunted me about the Tween's three day In School Suspension (ISS) over spraying fart spray in the school hallway, I scheduled a meeting through his secretary. I arrived a few minutes early for our appointment, but was kept waiting almost thirty damn minutes so the asshole could get off on his continual power trip.

When the cock bag sauntered out with a smirk on his face to introduce himself I stared at him completely unimpressed. "Hi, I'm Doctor Douchebag. You must be Bitch, the Tween's mom." Oh yeah, he stressed "doctor." While the other principals are Mr. or Mrs., he's the only fucktard in the massive middle school that insists on people addressing him as "doctor." Just for the record, anytime some asshole tries to make me feel inferior by inserting his education status (yay for you on getting that doctorate), I will go out of my way to ignore it. "Yes, Mister Douchebag. I'm Bitch. Let's have a chat."

After seating me on the visitor side of his desk, on a student's classroom chair, Mr. Douchebag settled down on his side of the desk and stared down at me. All of the nicety bullshit aside, I was ready to get down to business. I informed Mr. Douchebag that I had read the school's policy on disruptive behavior, detention, ISS and Out of School Suspension (OSS). Based on what the Tween admitted to doing, the punishment was severe. I told him I realized that the punishment has already been served, but my concern is the impact on her school record. During the discussion, Mr. Douchebag admitted the Tween's fart spray incident was just middle school silliness. "Well, gee, let me look in this handbook for discipline of 'silliness.' Hmmm. How about that. I don't see anything. From what you're telling me, at most this is disruptive behavior. And not even serious disruptive behavior. According to the policy, for a first offense, that means one hour of detention. Not THREE days of ISS."

As we debated over the complexity of the policy, which I held in my hand in black and white, Mr. Douchebag confirmed my assessment that he was on a power trip with his "latitude of discretion" in handing out punishment. Hold. the. fuck. up. It's within my latitude of discretion to determine how far your cock sack is going to get shoved inside you when I kick you in the nuts.

When it became increasingly clear that Mr. Douchebag and I were not going to come to a reasonable conclusion to his fucktardedness, I did what any other parent would have done. Without attracting attention, I slide a can of fart spray from my purse and down by my side where I let off one quiet and fucking stinky ass can fart. While the smell permeated the room I kept a straight face, waiting for Mr. Douchebag to acknowledge the skunk-mixed-with-other-road kill stench. With a little gag and "You should see someone about that problem," I dismissed myself from the meeting.

Lesson Learned: You're a Douche

Last week the Tween received 3 days of in-school suspension (ISS!). THREE DAYS. What.the.hell. did she do to get THREE days? My child who is a straight "A" student. My child who is popular with her friends and most of the teachers (although her sarcasm can get her in trouble at times). My sarcastically funny child who at most has only had to miss recess before middle school. WTF did she do??

A friend of hers brought a can of fart spray – yeah, there really is such a thing – to school and they were letting off farts. Stinky farts. Ass in a can. And blaming some of the boys for passing gas. And she gets THREE days of ISS for this?? Seriously? Too top it off, I later find out that it didn't happen in class as I was told by the principal, who was justifying three days due to disruptive class behavior. Oh no, I find out from the teacher that Tween and her friend were having the fun between class bells in the hallway.

How did the principal reply to my exclamation (string of profanities) of shock? "Well, Mrs. Bitch, there are kids that have asthma and allergies that this could have caused issues for." No shit Sherlock. Tween has some of the worst asthma you've ever seen and it didn't cause any issues for her. And if you're going to play that card with me then ban all scented lotions and perfumes from the fucking building. Oh yeah, and your cologne. That scent is so strong you could choke a whore in a whore house with it. Seriously though, lighten the fuck up. Grab the stick that's lodged in your ass and give it a good yank.

Of course I argued against three days. I told Principal StickUpHisAss that one day would be sufficient. He said he'd possibly cut it to two days provided the Tween had good behavior during ISS. What is this...jail? And you're the fucking parole board? When I called the second day to confirm there would be no day three of ISS hell, Principal Douche wasn't available and the asshole never returned my call. Since I couldn't get to the school to discuss it face-to-face, the Tween served three days.

But, at the end of the second day the Tween wasn't taking her punishment seriously anyway. Too many adults had laughed (not her parents!) in front of her over the incident and exclaimed that it was crap that she got three days over ass in a can. Wonderfuckingful. The asshole principal's attempt at making an example out of a straight "A" student just backfired. Instead of teaching the Tween to be more responsible and that ISS isn't something you want to be in, it taught her that the principal is a fucktarded cock sack who isn't to be taken seriously.

On Saturday a letter detailing the terrible ass spray travesty arrived from the principal. Underneath the three day prison sentence he'd highlighted and underlined "2 days is not an option!". That fucking chicken shit! It didn't save him from a visit from me. But that's another story....