Being a bitch is more than reacting to a situation. It is taking charge and laying it out there, honestly and bluntly. OWN it. LIVE it. After all, being a "bitch" is a lifestyle.
www.bitchisalifestyle.com
Some people crochet, creative Pinterest assholes create artsy fartsy crafts, others scrapbook. And others think of the most douchey thing they can do to make a hobby a new form of ‘art’. Have you had the pleasure of viewing the video of a performing arts woman who knits from her twat? Well, be prepared to feel enlightened. Kidding, prepared to be stunned. And grab some bleach because you’ll need it for your eyes after viewing this.
Doesn’t that shit just make you want to rush out and order your own pair of veej mittens? How about a scarf? With that thing tucked under your nose you’ll be in rank pussy heaven.
A few things astound me about this new art craft and raised questions that I MUST ask:
How much yarn is needed in order to last the full 28 days, and most importantly how many rolls of yarn have been stuffed in that beaver in order to learn this?
How many hours a day are spent pulling threads of yarn from one’s twat in order to finish on the 28th day?
For those of you unfamiliar with yarn, I must inform you that it comes in a massive roll. Like, bigger than a footlong with several inches of girth. Holyfuckinghell how is it possible that she shoves a roll into her vag?? Seriously! How big is her twat that she can shove a roll of yarn in there?
How does it unroll whilst she's yarning her glorious splendor and wondrous creations? Geezus I know how much it hurts to pull out a tampon sometimes, how it scrapes my uterine lining and makes me feel like the walls of my vagina are being sanded from the cotton. WTF does an unwinding spool of yarn feel like?
How many pubic hairs have been weaved in with the masterpieces? I know you noticed the dark bush hair that didn't match what's on that cunt nugget's head.
If I were to order one of these creations, would it need to be a heartfelt order? Could I order some twat glove liners for my Dickhead so his digits stay warm? Must I tell him his fingers are pushed inside a vulva creation? It’s not like he hasn’t had his fingers in a twat before….
Do the creations smell au naturel? Does the beaver weaver douche between spools of yarn so each creation smells its best?
Does the portion of said scarf or yarning goodness that spurts forth from her inner loins during her days of profuse bleeding sell for MORE money or LESS money?
Even with all of these thoughts churning in my mind, I will admit I was actually disappointed after watching the video. I thought for sure this genius was actually knitting from her vagina, not just letting the yarn fester in her taco town before pulling the yarn from it. I was prepared to be amazed and speechless with hopes she’d knit a fucking owl hat or a flower or some shit. When I pressed play I thought to myself, "Self, YOU need to be able to spin wool with your vaj. That is the next level in greatness. You need to become a master beaver weaver.” Alas, my disappointment is great and my disgust borders on “would someone really pay for artwork from my uterine lining?” and “what kind of fucked up kinky bitch is this and when did she escape the mental institute?”
Everyone is doing that number thing where they list off things you may not know about them. My friend Jennay of What I Really Meant to Say decided to do her own thing where she listed things that you may NOT WANT to know. Her list of 7 things was fucking awesome so I'm going to see if I can top it. My number is 8:
I like to pop pimples. There's some satisfaction in getting the hard white thingy out or pushing out the puss until it bleeds. I'll pop mine and I like to find them on Dickhead's back. Sometimes he may not really even have one, but I'll try to pop it anyway just to hear him cry out like a pussy.
I have a fake toenail. The real one was ripped out by a rowdy little fucking kid when he barreled through a store door, which I was entering. My beautiful pedicure was on display with gorgeous new sandals. My big toe was caught by the bottom of the door, ripping the nail and nail bed free of my toe. So now I have a fake one that I have to get filled and replaced just like fake fingernails.
I do Kegels every other day. Doing the exercise turns me on. I'm pretty sure my vajayjay muscles are strong enough to pick up a bowling ball.
Taking a shit is an event for me. I hole up in the bathroom with a book, iPad or my phone. Sometimes I text updates to friends on how it's going...or not going. A particularly raunchy shit fills me with pride and I like to let my closest friends know.
I got my first glimpse of porn at a slumber party in 2nd grade. My friend proudly showed us what she caught her older brother watching. It was pretty disgusting. I'm fairly certain that was the first time I saw Ron Jeremy and afterward I thought all men were hung like a donkey.
When I make a sandwich the mustard has to be on one slice of the bread and the mayo on the other slice. My cheese has to be on the same side as the mayo. If you make me a sandwich where the mustard is touching the cheese then I won't eat it.
I really enjoy picking my nose. I always have and always will. I have never eaten a booger though. If I don't have a tissue to wipe it on then I'll roll it up and flick it.
I seriously heart REO Speedwagon and Wilson Phillips. Go ahead and judge me. I don't care.
Now you know 8 utterly un-fascinating things about me. Feel free to share your weird shit, too.
Little
Shit, Baby Shit and I were on the floor where I was reading a book to
them. Apparently Baby Shit found the book boring because she got up and
started marching around, playing with dolls and doing some more
marching. I was focused on reading the book, and the racket she made
became that droning noise in the background that parents associate with
another child talking but block it out.
Dickhead
came out of the kitchen and asked if I was listening to what Baby Shit
was saying. Of course not, but I tuned in at that. The droning noise
became.... "Sonovabitch! *stomping feet as Baby Shit marched*
...SonnnnovaBITCH! ...Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp*
Dickhead
and I stared at one another with our eyes bugging out of our heads. Of
course Nana walked in on the loudest "SONOVABITCH!"
I covered my face with the book and tried to smother my giggles. Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp*
Little Shit kept trying to pull the book down and finally asked me if I
was laughing because the book was funny. That threw me into a giggling
fit.
"Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp*
Dickhead finally
distracted Baby Shit and the Sonovabiiittch!" *stomp stomp* train
ended. When I lowered the book and uncovered my face Nana was glaring at
me. WTF? Like I'm the only one that says 'Son of a bitch!' in our
household.
Nana: "Well, she sure does have some colorful
language. Just the other day I said 'shit' and who do you think repeated
it?" Another glare.
Me: "Well, shit, if you stopped cussing all the damn time maybe my girls wouldn't have the vocabulary of a fucking sailor."
Baby Shit: "SHIT!" Of course that earned me another glare.
In related news, I've already opened my first wine bottle of the day.
I was
sitting on the shitter after sneaking in the garage after work, minding
my own business and trying to DO my business when I heard a shocked
Tween yell "You can't say that!" to Little Shit who immediately burst
into tears complete with uncontrollable sobbing. Then I heard the Tween
trying to shush her only for the volume of sobbing to increase to an
uncomfortable level - like a goddamned siren.
Fuck me. My peaceful, toilet clogging shit needed to be put on hold.
Like a responsible mom I pinched the loaf and headed into the living
room to determine what the problem was.
All hell was breaking
loose when I interrupted. After shutting everyone up I asked the Tween
what the problem was. "SHE said a VERY VERY bad word!" The Tween accused
and crossed her arms smugly waiting for me to flip my shit. I looked at
Little Shit who was glaring daggers at her older sister and looking
like she wanted to rip her head off and crap down her throat. Whoa! My
toddler looked E-V-I-L. After some coaxing Little Shit finally told me
what went down.
"Tween said we were going outside to play on
the swing set but she wouldn't go outside because she was playing her
iPad. I kept asking really nice, mommy. I asked really nice." Cue the
big eyes tearing up from Little Shit and an exasperated sigh from the
Tween. "So I told her we needed to go and tried to grab her iPad and she
pushed me so I grabbed her and said..." at this pout Little Shit juts
her chin out and stands her ground like zero fucks are given "let's
fucking go!" At the look on my face Little Shit's zero fucks attitude
falters..."is that bad mommy? I heard you tell daddy that earlier."
I'm in my room now with a bottle of wine and a straw, coping with the circus I live.
The
Tween was searching her bag for Chapstick while we drove to meet her
dad. As she applied it she looked at me and said, "I don't think guys
should put Chapstick on in public. It's really disturbing. They need to
do that in private."
This surprised me so I asked why she had a
problem with Chapstick and guys. It's not like we were talking about
guys wearing lip gloss or lipstick. "Well this one guy at daddy's church
applies his Chapstick during service and he's all like <mimics a
loose woman trying to be sexy by applying lipstick>."
I
busted out laughing and told her that wasn't fair to all guys that one
man's technique grossed her out. The Tween rolled her eyes at me because
I obviously didn't get it.
When we met up with my ex-husband
and were discussing upcoming events for the Tween, she interrupted us
and asked, "Daddy, don't you think guys shouldn't apply Chapstick in
public?" I started laughing at his perplexed look and gave a brief
explanation.
Then, he looked at the Tween and said, "If a man
wearing Chapstick bothers you then I better not tell you what I did last
night while playing a game with a group of [church] friends." Of course
the Tween perked up at this and, knowing my bible thumping ex and his
hypocritical tendencies, my interest was also piqued.
My
ex-husband proceeds to tell our daughter that a challenge in the game
was for him to kiss someone else playing, but not his spouse. (What the
hell kind of game were they playing??) Rather than kissing one of the
other women playing and upsetting his own wife, he decided to kiss one
of the guys. The Tweens eyes were bugging out of her head..."OMG DADDY!
You kissed a GUY?!?"
He confirmed he did and then explained he
kissed the guy's neck...near his ear. What. the. fuck? Did he really
think that was better than a quick peck on the lips or the cheek?? A
kiss on the neck is pretty intimate. Then the ex-hole floored the Tween
with, "In hindsight I should have taken the point deduction rather than
do the kiss."
It was obvious this disturbed the Tween because
she pulled me to the side and whispered furiously to me. As we headed
back to the ex-hole I pulled some lip gloss out of my purse and asked if
his boyfriend prefers cherry or mint flavor. The Tween thought it was
funny....the ex not so much.
After tucking Baby Shit into bed, Little Shit, the Tween and I went to "Boo" 2 houses in the neighborhood.
In case you don't know what it means to "Boo" someone, during the month
of October you sneak up to a house and leave a bag of treats on the
doorstep then ring the doorbell and run like hell.
With my college football team winning today you could say I've done a little (lot) celebrating (drinking)
so I decided to keep to the shadows and let the kids do the tricking.
The people in the 1st house we hit must have been anticipating a booing
(or had been ding-dong-ditched a lot) because the Tween and Little Shit
barely cleared the reach of the porch light when the front door was
thrown open and the dad and 2 kids came barreling outside. The dad
looked around for a few minutes until the kids noticed the bag of
treats. As soon as the front door shut the Tween and Little Shit ran
across the front yard IN THE LIGHT and the dad threw the door back open,
yelling "caught ya little bastards!" My kids froze. Absolutely froze. I
stayed back (sipping my beer), and listened as the Tween thought fast
on her feet and responded to his question of whether or not they were
the culprits. She gave a pretty convincing explanation of why her and
Little Shit happened to be there right at that same moment. And
then....Little Shit started giggling. Then it was full blown laughter.
She looked at the neighbor and blew their cover with "Tween is just
kidding! It was us!!!" More giggles from Little Shit as Tween yelled at
her that she couldn't say that. I took another sip of beer and waited
until the girls joined me.
As we headed to the next house,
both girls talking excitedly about how they just got busted, I heard my
phone beep and checked my text messages..."Did that scare the kids or
what? I thought [Tween] was going to crap herself when she was busted
for lying." Ah yes, it's so much fun when the neighbors play along.
Little Shit started swim lessons this week - 2 mornings per week. I
wasn't able to go today since I had a conflict with work meetings so
Nana took her. Apparently Little Shit was beside herself upset when the
instructor was aggressive with her and pulled her into the water. I got a
text message play-by-play from Nana who watched from the "parent's
room." Once the lesson ended and they were in the car, Nana asked Little
Shit how she liked swim lessons. Little Shit replied that she hated it.
When Nana asked her why she hated it Little Shit replied, "That crazy
bitch pulled me under water and scared the crap out of me, Nana."
According to Nana that response startled her and made her jump a curb in
her Cadillac. Trying to not flip out over Little Shit's language, Nana
asked her why she would say such a thing. Little Shit promptly replied
with, "that's what mommy would have said about that crazy bitch!"
