Posts Tagged ‘dumb bitches’

I Wanna Sex You Up

Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009

Actually, that’s a lie. I don’t. And I wish everyone would chill out with trying to sex everyone else up too. So stop trying to hump someone’s leg and listen up.

There’s no doubt we’ve become a hyper-sexualised society. Oh sure, it all started innocently enough. Calvin Klein underwear billboards used to get the pulse racing and generated complaints. Fast forward to 2009 and the interweb has become a haven for every two bit perv to try and get his rocks off.

This was hammered home to me recently when some guy started following me on Twitter, exchanged a couple of pleasantries with me, then out of the blue sent me a message asking ‘do you have any ass shots for me?’ Um, excuse me? Twitter is flooded with whores. Literally. At least 17 times a day, I have to block people hawking Britney Spears porn videos (complete with a profile picture of Britney fellating a giant penis). My Twitter profile describes me as ‘Writer. Talker. Fabulous hair haver. Wearer of high heels. Fashion lover. Blogger. Laugh maker.’ Nowhere in there does it say ‘distributor of pictures of my ass.’

But, this guy probably thought that was an appropriate question to ask. He’s bombarded with porn all the time. And sadly, there are girls on Twitter, other social networking sites, the internet and life in general, who are all too happy to give you a detailed account of their sexual activity, complete with pictures, if you require. I however, am certainly not one of them. Those girls are sad, lonely, attention seeking whores who didn’t get enough hugs from their dads as children. And so they spend their days tweeting about how horny they are or how big their boobs are in the hope that some sad, horny boy (and when I say ‘boy’ I mean anyone of the male variety between the ages of 4 and oh, I don’t know, death) will pay them some mind.

The problem is, those girls let the side down. They don’t realise the effect that their own desperate need for attention has on the rest of us. Men then think that we are all that way, that we are all so desperate for attention that they can speak to us however they like. And we’ve come to accept it. Even if a guy doesn’t speak to us directly that way, we may see him speak to or about other women that way and we don’t speak up.

That leads to situations like the one recently involving Marlon King, a footballer here in the UK who, when a woman spurned his advances, groped her and punched her in the face, breaking her nose. It is yet to be determined whether the source of his frustration was him being rejected or the fact that he plays for Wigan (I don’t know much about football, but my understanding is that playing for Wigan is tantamount to having a casual kick about in the park with your mates on a Sunday). So as women, when we decide not to act like whores, we can expect to be knocked the hell out.

At times it feels like we women cannot win. Men drool over the whores, but when they decide they are ready for something more serious, can’t wait to slander the names of the very chicks they were happy to make whoopie with before. Or if we choose to not stand to be spoken to in certain ways and reject their cheap, tacky behaviour, then we are uptight, frigid bitches (I prefer the term ‘lady,’ but whatever).

In short, there is a way to speak to and about women. Men, you need to master it and women, we need to expect it and not settle for less.

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Posted in relationships | 13 Comments »

Best I Ever Had? I Think Not.

Thursday, July 2nd, 2009

The above is the video for rapper/singer Drake’s first single, Best I Ever Had.

A little background: Drake is a Toronto boy (woo hoo!), rapper/singer/actor triple threat. He’s been on the seen in Toronto for a minute, but over the last year has aligned himself with the over-tattooed, gremlin-like Lil Wayne. This has garnered him an incredible amount of buzz. So much so, that the above song ‘Best I Ever Had’ is currently sitting at #3 on the Billboard singles chart. This is unusual because Drake doesn’t even have an album out yet. This single is from his underground mixtape. Pretty amazing achievement.

Drake is poised to be the biggest thing in the rap game – or at least that’s what all signs seem to be pointing to. His hype is out of control and this song has been getting played everywhere you go (I’m sure you can imagine how much Drake we hear in Toronto). So this video, directed by Kanye West was much anticipated.

So, watch the video…..

*sigh*

Was Drake even in that? I can’t tell because I feel like I just got slapped in the face with multiple pairs of oversized titties. How does this video relate to the song? Maybe I’m slow, but I just don’t get it. For once, just ONCE, I would like there to be a hip hop video that wasn’t about hos, tits and ass. For the love of Christ!

This is the worst piece of trash I’ve ever seen. Drake was meant to be better than this!

This video should be a PSA about the dangers of playing sports without supportive undergarments. I can’t even imagine the pain those big breasted video hos were in. They probably had to have ice packs on their boobs after the shoot.

And Kanye West directed this crap. It’s not really surprising that it’s shitty in that sense. He’s been falling off since right after The College Dropout. He’s descended into being an autotune using, video ho dating loser. Originality has been slipping from his grasp for a minute, so not surprisingly, he thought throwing some tits and basketballs into the mix would make a decent video.

For all the hype Drake’s been getting (and all the hard work he’s put in trying to get there), he really needs to be careful. If this video is any indication of things to come, it’ll be a pretty quick fall from grace.

Someone please introduce him to some girls with B cup breasts, STAT!

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Posted in life | 7 Comments »

American Apparel Can Go To Hell

Monday, June 1st, 2009

 

Someone really needs to have a word with American Apparel. This whole ‘assless tights’ phenomenon is guaranteed to send me on an unstoppable bitch slapping frenzy. 

 

Have you seen this crap? Who in the name of all things right and good is wearing this bollocks? I must meet these people post haste and discuss at which point their life went down the shitter. 

 

I really don’t want my ass out there flapping in the breeze. So, you wear this with a skirt on a windy day – one gust and the whole world is exposed to this madness? Come on – be fair to the citizens of earth and just wear regular tights. 

 

Look at the model’s face in the ad. You can tell she’s having an internal debate about how badly she needs this pay cheque. Well congratulations bitch! You can buy all the 8 balls you want now. In the words of the immortal Rick James ‘cocaine is one helluva drug.’ (For the record, I have no evidence that this chick is an addict of any sort, but seriously, to be in this ad, you pretty much have to be a crackhead.)

 

Advice of the day: Friends don’t let friends shop at American Apparel.

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Posted in fashion | 8 Comments »

Lessons in Attention Seeking 101

Wednesday, May 13th, 2009

 

Ladies, do you have your notepad and pencils at the ready? Good, because everything you’ll need to know to become an attention seeking skank is about to be revealed! As we’ve seen with various celebrities over the past week (Cassie, Rihanna, Miss Dumb Ass California), slutting it up pays – so listen up young ‘uns. 

 

Start Small

 

Perhaps wear a top that will give you a guaranteed nipple slip – that always gets some attention. But you must understand, one nipple slip can only get you so far. At some point, you’ve gotta get both of those bad boys out for the crowd. Nothing less will do.

 

Take it up a notch

 

 Don’t wear any panties and get out of a car in the most unladylike way possible. True, most normal ladies, upon being concerned about their visible panty line, would change either their underwear or their outfit, but really, where is that going to get you? Respected and treated like a lady? Screw that noise – this is Attention Seeking 101 damnit!

 

Time for some snapshots

 

When you have some alone time, sit in front of your webcam or train your camera on yourself (never use the auto timer – it always looks more authentic when you’re holding the camera at some off key angle, but make sure you get at least half your face in there, so that you can attract the desired amount of attention to yourself). Strip down, relax. It’s just you, the camera and the 5 million people you’re going to leak the photo to. It helps if you have various parts of your anatomy pierced, gives people an extra little something to talk about. 

 

Act shocked and lie

 

For any of the above three scenarios, pretending you didn’t know what was going on is key. Sure, we know you bought a top that was three sizes too big and chose not to wear a bra on purpose. We know, you spent hours getting the perfect bikini wax, just to do away with the bikini altogether and let the world see your lady bits. And we know, that you leaked your nekkid pictures yourself, no one hacked into your computer, but lie like there’s no tomorrow. Those are the rules. 

 

Eventually, you’ll work your way up to the attention seeker’s dream: the sex tape. But one step at a time young ‘uns, one step at a time.

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Posted in fashion | 5 Comments »

Heave Ho

Monday, April 27th, 2009

 

Let me begin with this simple statement: Hip Hop videos can go to hell. 

 

I don’t know who this Paul Wall character is, nor do I care, but I stumbled across this video of his and it made me choke on my Earl Grey a little.

 

For all the arguments about Hip Hop objectifying women, I think we can safely say that these heifers are objectifying themselves. Seriously ladies, can we please do better? Are you really in a video in your underwear, dry humping couches and cleaning some muppet’s house, trying to look sexy? Is that what’s really hot in the streets right now? 

 

Cleaning. Cleaning. Could it get any more stereotypical? 2009 and that’s still all we’re good for. Well, in the world of hip hop at least. (Quick sidebar: I’m finding it a real stretch to call this nonsense ‘hip hop’).  

 

But of course, it was men who came up with the concept for this video. It was men who put out the casting call for ‘scantily clad attention seeking women with a flare for dish washing and vacuuming’. But it was these women who reduced themselves to actually being in it and helping the cause of continuing the cycle of women being treated as nothing more than maids. And am I the only one who doesn’t don fake eyelashes and lacy briefs to do housework? Shit, what happened to rubber gloves and some sweats? 

 

Let’s face it though, hip hop is not real life. In real life, this gremlin would not have 20 hot chicks cleaning his house in their underwear. I am hard pushed to find a more physically repulsive individual roaming the earth. What the hell is all that shit in his mouth? He sure as hell isn’t getting manicures at home from some chick with questionable lingerie choices and services this fool on her knees, no less. 

 

I know it’s a recession, but you never need a pay cheque this badly. Please, attempt to have some class. Keep your clothes on. Cleaning your own house is fine and if you want to do it in your underwear, that’s your own business. But cleaning Paul Wall’s house, when he barely looks as if he cleans himself on a regular basis? I’ll pass, thanks.

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Posted in life | 8 Comments »

Taking a Stand

Tuesday, March 10th, 2009

 

So, my friend Nads and I were at the Raptors game on Sunday and the topic of Chris Brown and Rihanna came up. 

 

“Speaking of abusive douchbags,” I say to Nads. “I have to give evidence in that case against my ex tomorrow.” 

 

“Ohhhh,” says Nads, followed by a long pause. “So, have you decided what you’re going to wear yet?” Some people just know me too well. 

 

Let me give you some background: 

 

Last year, after I discovered that my then boyfriend (let’s call him Prison Break) had actually been seeing and living with some other chick (let’s call her Dumb Ass), a little drama ensued. He found out that I knew about Dumb Ass and decided to come to my house to deny the whole thing. Here’s what happened: 

 

-He stood on my doorstep for approximately 20 minutes to half an hour, completely denying Dumb Ass’s very existence. 

- I asked him, several times, to leave. 

- When the sound of his voice became more annoying than T Pain’s auto-tune, I decided it was time for me to close the door. 

- He put his foot in the door, pushed it open, got a little physical with me to get me out of the way and went upstairs to my apartment. 

- On his way up the stairs, I told him I was calling the police, which I did. 

- While I was on the phone to the police, he came down the stairs with my computer, shoved past me and walked out (stealing said computer). 

- Police showed up, took my statement. 

- Following morning, I discover that Prison Break has also stolen my lovely D&G watch. I called police to let them know of that little development. 

- Over the next 36 hours, Prison Break, called me a few times to try and bribe/intimidate me into dropping the charges. He professed several times that he wasn’t scared of jail, yet mysteriously, my stolen property showed up in a Happy Birthday bag in my back yard the next day (you can’t make this shit up). 

- What Prison Break failed to realise is that there was still the little matter of assault to deal with and those charges cannot be dropped, along with the charge of unlawfully in a dwelling. And so, we waited for a court date. 

 

That day came yesterday. 

 

The Victim/Witness Officer told me to arrive early so she could talk me through what happens in court . Then I waited. Then the Crown (prosecuting lawyer) came and told me what to expect. Then I waited. Then the court officer came and told me that Prison Break’s lawyer wasn’t there yet so it’d be a while longer. So I waited. Then the court officer came back and told me that Prison Break was making his way up to the court now, that he’s in custody, because apparently, he’s currently being held on fraud charges. I found it hard to muffle a smile. And I waited. 

 

Eventually, it was go time. I was taken down to the courts. The hallway outside the courts was an absolute zoo. Fifteen year old girls with their screaming babies, accused men sitting around waiting, arguments, lawyers roaming around. I was told to wait outside the court room. The court officer waited with me for about five minutes, then got impatient and went to see what was going on, leaving me with Toronto’s riff raff. Finally a victim/witness officer showed up to keep me company. She gave me a speech about keeping calm and remaining focussed. Meanwhile I’m sitting next to a huge guy with a shaved head and a tattoo on his neck. I did not feel comforted. 

 

Eventually, I’m called into court and take the stand. I’d like to direct the rest of this post directly to Prison Break, if I may: 

 

- I’m glad I didn’t have to look at you through the whole thing. By the way, were those handcuffs a little tight? Cry me a river , bitch

- Next time you want to bring a friend into the courtroom to try to intimidate me with the hard stares, can you make sure it’s a big Mr T-looking dude? The friend you chose is about two feet shorter than me. I could drop kick him in the throat and puncture his lung with my stiletto, no questions asked. I am not scared of you or your weak ass boys. 

- Did your lawyer think we were on Law and Order? His whole ‘I suggest to you that Mr Prison Break never entered your apartment that night, isn’t that right Ms Carey-Campbell?’ thing was weak/bordering on hilarious.

- Did you really think I would drop the charges? 

- I saw Dumb Ass come into the court. She’s still with your lame ass? You should really get her tested to see if she’s ‘special’. She’s entered an entire new league of stupid that I didn’t know existed. 

- Even though you were found not guilty, I don’t even care. You’ll most likely be in and out of jail for the rest of your life, I don’t doubt, since you are clearly truth-deficient. This was more about me seeing this through and not letting you bully me. It is not OK to try to get what you want through force, fear and intimidation. I will not be the chick to just lie down and take it. That’s what you have Dumb Ass for. 

 

So when you finally do go to jail on those fraud charges, always remember: don’t drop the soap, motherfucker!

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Posted in relationships | 5 Comments »

What a Relief!

Monday, January 12th, 2009

On New Year’s Eve, something terrible happened in London. A girl decided to urinate in the street. Sadly, this incident was caught on video and this being the age of the interweb, the girl, and her urine, have become somewhat infamous over the past couple of weeks. 

 

The video has been posted on several websites and there is even a Facebook group dedicated to discovering the identity of the offending urinator. 
Now, while I think it is terrible that this girl is having her business (quite literally) put out in the street, I would say it is karma for being such an unclassy skank. 
What girl, with an ounce of self respect, pees in the street, I ask you? (By no means am I defending dudes who pee in the street here, that’s just a whole other issue that I can’t be arsed to get into right now). 
I think what has pushed this particular incident over the edge is the manner in which this girl chose to relieve herself. I personally feel that under no circumstances is it acceptable for a lady to urinate in the public (yes, yes, I know, this chick hardly qualifies as a lady). I don’t care how desperate you are, find a bathroom, hold it in, get a colostomy bag, whatever the hell you need to do, but don’t ever pee in the street. 
This chick, who for some reason was wearing some sort of short jumpsuit number (it was the end of December in London sweetheart, why in the name of Jesus and all the saints were you dressed like you were in Ibiza in the summer?), pulls her pants to the side, squats and lets it all go in the middle of the street. And I mean literally, in the middle of the street. 
I mean, if you are stupid enough, as an adult to not have control of your bladder functions and find yourself caught out in the beyond embarrassing predicament of having to relief yourself in public, one would think you would try to find a quiet side street, an alley way, a corner, behind a car or large tree – something! Anything! But to sweep your jumpsuit shorts to the side, squat and pee in the middle of the street? You’re pretty much asking to be filmed and ridiculed on the interweb for a little while. 
I have but two words for you, you classless London piss artist: 
Bitch please! 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tip of the Day – Ummm, I don’t know, how about you never piss in the street! 

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Posted in life | 7 Comments »

Head Bitch in Charge

Sunday, December 14th, 2008


Why is it that when women get into positions of power, they lose their minds? I’ve never had a female boss who came anywhere close to being sane. 

 

Sadly, many women bring a school playground mentality with them to the workplace. It’s bitchy, cliquey, immature and ridiculous. 
My boss at a well-known magazine I worked at, was so notorious in New York, the very mention of her name made people wince. At first, I thought she was just very demanding and particular. Fear and intimidation are what she used to get results, somewhat like a mafia hit man. A few days into my job, the pressure was immense.
A few weeks into it, I’d come to the conclusion that she must have some kind of personality disorder. Bipolar would have been a good explanation for her incomprehensible mood swings. One second, you’d be having a relatively normal conversation (what constitutes as normal with a psychopath is a blurry line), the next minute, she’d be screaming at the top of her lungs about something totally unrelated. She was particularly keen on chewing the men out, preferring to do so in a very public forum (a corridor or reception area), over the privacy of her own office. 
If the shouting was for a reason, it would be semi-understandable (though most normal individuals would have better ways of resolving an issue than throwing a tantrum of toddler proportions). But she would lose her shit over things like addressing an envelope incorrectly.
She would rave about standards of professionalism, but those standards didn’t seem to apply to her (she once threw a stapler at a coworker and when emerging from her office after being locked in there for hours, there would always be that familiar odour of weed wafting around). 
With each passing day, I became more and more stunned that she wasn’t fired, as she persisted to bully all of her coworkers. Eventually, she was fired. Ahhh, Karma, how I love thee. 
In Montreal, I had an interview with a well known TV personality, to be her PA. The interview was pretty routine, standard questions. Then she asked me if I’d seen The Devil Wears Prada. I said I hadn’t, but I’d read the book. She told me I should rent the movie, because she’s ‘a million times worse than that Meryl Streep character.’ Why would anyone brag about being a notorious bitch? Was this supposed to make the job appeal to me? Though I was invited back for a second interview, I declined on the grounds that she didn’t meet my interview standards.
When I was 14, I had a job at a local store that sold discount household goods. It was the very definition of glamour. It was an all-female staff and a terrible wage. I hated the place, but toughed it out in the hope that if I saved my measly salary, I might one day be able to afford a CD or something.
One week, the manager (who was in her 30s) came to me and told me that someone had told her I had called her a ‘fat cow.’ I had done no such thing. I had no interest in anyone who worked there and having to make conversation with them, well, some days it was all I could do to keep from stabbing myself in the neck with a pencil. She then went on to explain to me that she had recently found out she was pregnant, which is why she had been putting on weight. I was embarrassed for her that she felt it necessary to explain, to a 14 year old, the intimate details of her private life, because she was upset over allegedly being called a ‘fat cow.’ Bitch please. You’re over 30 and sell discount bleach for a living. You’ve got bigger fish to fry. If a male manager had heard that he’d been called a ‘fat bastard,’ I doubt he’d go and explain that his ingrown toenail had prevented him from working out.
So ladies, please, lets get our shit together. Save your bitching for talking about some chick’s fat ass at the gym after work. But while at the office, at least try to behave like an adult and not some uber-bitch stereotype of what you think a female boss should be. You are holding us all back! 

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Posted in life | 3 Comments »

Did She Really Take it There?

Wednesday, October 1st, 2008


OK – lemme tell ya, I have been less than impressed with this Palin character. She ain’t the sharpest tool in the box, that’s for sure. I have been left somewhat astounded by her utter stupidity, her irritating accent and those Dr Evil-esque jackets she likes to wear. Obviously, being a British/Canadian/Irish chick living in Toronto, I’m not eligible to vote in the US election, but it’s safe to say, if I could, I would not cast my ballot for that steaming pile of douche.

 

And not just because of the stupidity, but because of THIS!

 

This article points out how Palin got her ‘Bun-and-Bangs’ hairstyle to appear ‘less sexy’. Umm, come again? Nuh-uh bitch, oh no you di-ent!

 

Bangs and a Bun, not sexy? Oh Palin, clearly all that cramming you’re doing for the VP debate has popped a few blood vessels in your brain.

 

Lets talk about what’s actually going on on your head (because, clearly, there ain’t much going on in it). You do not have Bangs and a Bun. You have bangs, some sort of weird french twist and some whispy bits sprouting out the top. And don’t, for one second, think that I don’t know what’s going on underneath those whispy bits. I’m throwing up in my mouth a little as I type this, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got a…oh god, a BANANA CLIP holding this whole fiasco together.

 

A frikkin’ banana clip Palin! I get that you were an Alaskan beauty queen back in the ’80s, but that’s where you should have left that clip. It had no place joining you on your journey through life past 1988.

 

So, if your hairstyle was intended to make you ‘less sexy’, that banana clip took you to a whole new league. Mission frikkin’ accomplished amigo.

 

Now, let me show you how Bangs and a Bun should be done:

 

 

Sexy? You bet your dumb Alaskan ass it is!

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Posted in fashion | 6 Comments »

A Word on Girlfights

Tuesday, July 22nd, 2008


I’ve mentioned before how I think women who fight should be made to hand in their vaginas at the nearest police station. There is nothing less classy than women coming to blows. It’s vulgar, cringeworthy and really not in our nature. Sure, we bitch, moan, gossip, stab each other in the back, but throw punches? It should never come to that.

 

Ladies, if you conduct yourself like a lady, you will never have cause to be in a fight. Trust me, I know, I’ve never been in one. Lord knows, there have been times where I would have liked nothing more than to slap a bitch to next tuesday, but I will never stoop that low.

 

A few years ago, I went to a club in London with a friend of a friend. It was the first (and last) time I went out with her. Like most clubs in London, it was full of snooty people who seemed to only leave the house to give evil eyes to every passerby.

 

Things started off OK. We got there, did a lap and shook our funky stuff (but not too hard, because the evil eye givers evil eyes will roll right back in their heads and they faint if they see someone having too much fun). Then a girl came in and my friend- once-removed stopped in her tracks and said the fateful words: ‘I hate that bitch!’ It was a spontaneous and rather confusing outburst. I didn’t think much of it, but as the night progressed, my friend of a friend’s mood completely changed and she began stalking the girl around the club. I was ignoring this for the most part until, without warning, my girl jumped on her prey and before I knew it, weaves and fists were flying everywhere.

I reluctantly leapt in there to drag my girl out (I did not want to be associated with that hot mess in any way, shape or form). Oddly, for a girl who weighs roughly 95 pounds, it took me and two bouncers to drag her out of her ready made mosh pit of anger. I tried to reason with her. In case you were wondering, the words ‘try to have some class’ have little to no effect on someone midway through a drunken brawl. She raved a bit more about how that bitch had been ‘looking’ at her and dove right back in to the chaos. I stepped back and let the bouncers work their magic. I’ll be damned if I was gonna break a nail over this foolishness. They finally dragged her out kicking and screaming and carried her towards the exit, but not before grabbing me roughly by the arm and escorting me out with her. I was guilty by association apparently.

 

Since then, I’ve observed what makes girls tick and sends them over the edge, from bitchy comments, to wanting to smash someone’s face in. Apparently, no one is allowed to ‘look’ at anyone. That’s the kicker. The ‘looking’. What, when, how, where – none of this matters – a look, and in some cases, a mere glance, can make some bitches go postal.

 

Exhibit A – Saturday night, I went out and was waiting for the streetcar. While looking in the direction the streetcar was to come from, a girl walked by with her boyfriend. As she approached me, she said, loud enough for me to hear ‘I’m gonna box her in her mouth. I don’t know what she’s looking at,’ and then promptly kept it moving. I hadn’t looked at this girl, I don’t know why she flattered herself into thinking I had. I was looking for the streetcar and her considerable girth made it pretty hard for her not to be in my line of vision. But you know what – even if I had looked at her, so-the-hell-what?! Would it really impact her day that much that her knee jerk response is the box me in my mouth? I don’t get it. Now, if I had said what I was actually thinking, by all means, then, she probably would have had the right to say something and/or box me in my mouth.

 

So, random girl on Queen Street, with a bursting-to-get-out violent streak – here’s what was going through my mind in the 0.5 seconds I glanced in the direction of the streetcar and you waddled into my peripheral vision:

 

I was having an internal dialogue about the wonder of how you managed to pour yourself into a pair of jeans that were clearly two sizes too small for you and then made the questionable choice of pairing it with a skin tight T Shirt that showcased every one of your seven rolls of fat. I gave you a makeover in my mind that would have done wonders for you, trust me. And I was feeling sorry for you because while you were getting ready to box me in my mouth, your boyfriend couldn’t take his eyes off my legs.

Now that you know my thoughts, that 0.5 second glance doesn’t seem so bad, does it? Perhaps next time, you could keep your violent thoughts to yourself too.

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Posted in fashion | 5 Comments »