Posts Tagged ‘crazy bitches’

The Lady Detectives

Thursday, October 15th, 2009

So, you broke up. You may be sniffling into a tissue, you may be out drinking the pain away or you may be getting over him by getting under someone else. Alternatively, you may be acting like an adult and just moving on with your life. What I’m always surprised about with break ups is the number of women who turn into regular little Detective Columbos when their relationships crumble. They make it their business to know every movement, phone call and sighting of their ex.

Of course, social networking sites like Facebook have only exacerbated the problem. Back when I had my first break up (I was 18), I had a highly skilled team of spies to inform me of my ex’s whereabouts and who he was talking to. Each report I got back would crush my soul a little more. (Hey, I was 18 – we’re meant to be stupid at that age.) Facebook has made it easier than ever for you to never get over your break up and become a bitter, resentful, scheming, crazy woman.

Stalking is what is comes down to. You’ll go on his Facebook page to see who’s been writing on his wall. If you see he’s been interacting with some chick, you’ll put in an angry phone call to your ex expressing your disapproval or asking exactly what he thinks he’s doing. Congratulations! You just reaffirmed why he broke up with you!

You’ll follow his Twitter updates to see where he’s going and if you’re a special kind of crazy, you’ll even show up at the same places and pretend it’s a coincidence.

But really, all you’re doing is driving yourself nuts. You’re keeping yourself entwined in someone’s world that you are no longer a part of. To watch a blow by blow of how the other person is moving on with their life while you just watch/click/follow/read/stalk is not the way to get on with your own life.

And why do you need to know? Seriously, once you’ve broken up, what business is it of yours where he goes and who he sees? If he chooses to move on the very next day, it’s harsh, but that’s his business. You two are no longer together. He doesn’t need to account to you, nor does he owe you an explanation. He is only responsible for his own happiness now, not yours.

But what’s even more hypocritical is that while, in your mind, he is not allowed to talk to another woman as long as he lives (or until you decide you’re over it, whichever comes first), you’re out actively trying to line up your next date and flirting with anything with legs. So why is it one rule for you and another for your ex?

All it comes down to is each person wants to be the first to move on. It’s like a competition. Both parties want to be the first to date to show that they are desirable to someone else. But it’s important to remember that you were, at one point, desirable to each other. There’s a way to honor that and move on with grace.

Release it and allow yourself to breathe. Endlessly stalking his post-break up moves is going to get you where exactly?

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Posted in relationships | 12 Comments »

Jon & Kate Plus 8 (Bitch Slaps)

Thursday, June 4th, 2009

 

OMG you guys. So, by now I’m sure you’ve heard the crushing news that Jon and Kate’s (of Jon and Kate Plus 8 fame) marriage is on the rocks. 

 

In case you’re unfamiliar with these reality TV whores, they had twins and decided to have fertility treatment to have ‘just one more.’ ‘Just one more’ turned out to be sextuplets and a reality TV dream was born. 

 

If anyone has ever watched the show, it’s not much of a mystery why the relationship is over. Poor Jon hasn’t been able to finish a sentence in ten years. 

 

It’s been reported that Jon’s been having an affair. If that’s the case – more power to him. He should be rewarded with a gaggle of virgins for putting up with that madwoman wife. 

 

I’m not sure which of them came up with the bright idea of having fertility treatment after having two kids (but I’ll take ‘Bitchy Women Named ‘Kate’ For 100′). Greedy buggers. Are you trying to show off exactly how much a human stomach can expand? We all saw it Kate and we were all equally disgusted. 

 

But I think we all know the real reason Jon has stepped outside the marriage: Kate’s hair. What the fuck is going on there? That long sweeping bang at the front and the short, spiky punk party at the back? There’s entirely too much going on. Short, long, highlights – arrggghhh make it stop! 

 

So Kate, the key to saving your marriage clearly lies in a good hair stylist. 

 

You’re welcome.

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The Crazy Train

Monday, March 9th, 2009

 

The urban jungle provides many moments of entertainment. 

 

My morning commute is usually pretty dull. The only excitement I get is from the playlists I make every day, seeing if I can musically one up myself on my twenty minute journey. Somehow, I always manage it. You can find me plugged in, zoning out to whatever is blasting through my earphones, maybe reading a book at the same time and generally ignoring everything and everyone around me. 

 

The other day though, some unexpected excitement came along. The Whispers had just come on my playlist and I was congratulating myself for such a stellar choice in sound when all of a sudden I could hear a kerfuffle. My first thought was, I should probably get some new earphones, I shouldn’t be able to hear shit, outside of the musical stylings of The Whispers. I looked up and saw everyone around me looking down the train carriage. I took my earphones out and heard some crazy screaming going on. Real, bloody curdling screams. 

 

For a moment, horrible things flashed through my brain, like what if this woman was being assaulted or some dude was trying to rape her. I leaned forward and cautiously took a look at what everyone else was gaping at. I saw a woman, shouting at the top of her lungs at two girls who were standing near the doors. 

 

“Get the FUCK away from meeeeeee!! Don’t you speak English bitch?!! Get your fucking hands off me! Get away from me!!!” She was screaming this over and over. “Get the fuck out of my face!” Everyone around me looked confused. And so they should have been. No one was in this woman’s face, except for maybe her imaginary friends. The two girls she was shouting at were looking increasingly uneasy. 

 

See, here’s the thing: Canadians are so damn reserved that when they do actually lose their shit, I take a ridiculous amount of pleasure in it. It takes balls to be crazy in Canada, so I kind of applaud it. I just sit back and watch the show. Sure, it’s a little awkward watching someone who is clearly a sandwich short of a picnic, but it’s funny seeing peoples reactions to it. 

 

Unfortunately, this was all going down just a couple of minutes before my stop. She had some powerhouse lungs and kept up her screaming non stop. When the train finally pulled into the platform, the girls she had been shouting at hightailed it down the platform and into another carriage. People were practically saying ‘run like the wind!’ as they dashed away from her. 

 

Crazy lady was not deterred though. She got off the train and just stood on the platform to continue her nonsensical ramblings. I could still hear her when I was almost all the way out of the station. That high pitched, crazy wailing may never leave me.

 

If only these moments happened more often in Toronto to spice things up a bit. who knows, one of these days in the near future, I just may be the one doing the screaming for your entertainment. Feel free to sit back, enjoy and even make donations if you feel so inclined.

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When Crazy Chicks Attack

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008


We women are a complex breed. We can be overly emotional and irrational (I’m sure that’s a big news flash for many men). But one thing women do that I’ll never understand is this:

 

Woman dates guy. Woman finds out that guy is seeing another woman. Woman calls the other woman to give her a piece of her mind.

 

If you’ve done this, first and foremost, your mind isn’t big enough to be giving pieces away. You need to hold on to that shit.

 

I don’t get why women do this. What useful purpose does it serve? There are a few different situations that lead to the girlfriend’s crazy choice to pick up the phone:

 

a) guy is cheating with a woman who has no idea he is in a relationship (because some men ‘forget’ that they’re sleeping with someone else when they meet someone new)

 

b) guy is cheating with a woman who knows he has a girlfriend (so the chick is a skank who makes stupid choices, somewhat like you for still being with a man who cheats – doesn’t really warrant a phone call)

 

c) guy is cheating with a woman who is a friend of his girlfriend (oh no they di-ent! Yes they did. Again, doesn’t really warrant a phone call)

 

The common denominator in all these situations is the dude. How about throwing a little anger in his direction?

 

Let’s take situation A. Trust me, the other woman in this situation really doesn’t want to hear from your crazy ass. She didn’t even know you existed and, generally speaking (if she has a moral compass) will have no further interest in your loser boyfriend, especially now she knows he associates with a psychopath like you. You need not worry that she will continue their torrid affair. Why are you speaking to this other woman? Unless your man’s penis is made of a pure cut diamond, nothing is worth this embarrassment.

 

I had a friend who found out that the guy she was dating, actually had a girlfriend he’d been with for about 8 months before meeting her. The girlfriend found out about my friend, somehow tracked down where she lived (we’re not sure how – goddamn Google) and scratched the word ‘hoe’ into her car. There’s nothing worse than a woman scorned except maybe, an illiterate woman scorned.

 

I can understand that it’s an emotional punch in the gut to find out your fella is cheating. Believe me – I get that. But seriously, try to take a step back, some deep breaths, do some downward dog, whatever the hell you have to do to get your head around the fact that your man betrayed you. The other woman in the situation is irrelevant. Your man did you wrong. He lied to you. He cheated. The other chick doesn’t even know you and whatever she has to say, doesn’t take away from the fact that clearly you and your guy have some issues.

 

Now, with situations B and C, the girl clearly lacks some morals, but she still doesn’t need a phone call from you getting all Dr Phil on her ass. Situation C is tougher because there’s a double betrayal, but the world will not stop turning if these two individuals cease to be in your life. Once you weather the storm, you’ll realise that. But please try to weather the storm with some dignity and class. Through all the arguing and screaming, just pause to reflect on what you’re fighting for. A man who doesn’t want you and a shitty friend.

 

Think. Hang up. Pack your bags. Move on. No revenge sex with one of his friends. No slutting it up to prove a point. Just take a time out, heal and in due time, you might find someone who will not shit on you from a great height.

 

Ahhh, love is such a beautiful thing, ain’t it?

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And a Litter was Born

Tuesday, July 29th, 2008


This woman recently gave birth to her 18th child. It’s heart warming that the local psychiatric unit let her out on day release to pop another one out.

 

What the hell is wrong with this woman? Apparently, she and her husband never decided how many children to have. (Clearly!) ‘We just let God lead our lives’, they said. Well, Jesus, Mary and Joseph are laughing it up right now, I tell ya. You would think that after say, six, hubby might reach for a box of Trojans and say “let’s try something new tonight honey. It’s a little something I like to call ‘contraception.’”

 

This woman has spent, basically, her entire adult life having sex and being pregnant. Who has that kind of time on their hands? And can it really even be classed as ‘giving birth’ anymore? I mean, things must be pretty loose down there at this point. I imagine babies just fall out of her when she walks. Her vagina must be somewhat like the Euro tunnel – things just shoot through there at great speeds.

 

She’s an old pro now (literally – she’s only 44, but she looks 67). Her womb has clearly been put through its paces. There’s nothing it can’t handle. I think the obvious next move is for her to start renting her womb out. Get in line bitches! I have a few things I’d like her to give birth to for me.

 

Somewhat like a Christmas list, I’d like this woman to grow the following things in her uterus for me and just pop them out at her earliest convenience:

 

1. a career
2. some Christian Louboutins shoes
3. a savings account (complete with roughly $10K in it)
4. a ridiculously nice apartment
5. the second coming of George Clooney
6. that USB memory stick I lost last year
7. the straight version of that hot latino fella who lives downstairs
8. a walk in closet
9. a flat screen TV
10. and since she’s so good at it and probably wants to show off some more, I guess she can pop another small human out of there, if she has the time.

So, crazy lady with the tribe of children, if you could get on top of that list and email me when some of them are ready for delivery, I’d be much obliged. Mkay, thanks.

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Advertising the Kit Kat

Tuesday, April 29th, 2008


Adverts for feminine personal products are getting ridiculous.

 

I was watching TV the other day when an ad for a pregnancy test came on and declared it was ‘the most sophisticated piece of technology you will ever pee on’. Um, excuse me? Do people regularly pee on other types of technology? Are there leagues of women out there pissing on their iPods or something? I don’t think I would ever associate the word ‘sophisticated’ with going for a piddle either.

 

The voice over for the ad was done by one of those dudes who do the voices for mens razors. You know the ones with ridiculous names like the ‘Mach 3′, that stops short of saying the razor is powered by a jet engine or something.

 

Clearly, this ad was the brain wave of an all male advertising agency. Listen fellas, it’s a pregnancy test. A simple yes or no will suffice. Bells, whistles and jet engines are not needed.

 

There’s another ad for a pill to clear up your yeast infection. A woman enters her home, after what seems like a busy day. Then, all of a sudden, speech bubbles start popping out of her nether regions saying this: “$%*@!!”. So, not only are they making her pussy talk, but it’s using bad language and possibly cracking jokes. Quick poll of the ladies: ever been in the mood for laughing when you had a yeast infection? No, I didn’t think so. Or maybe her vagina was just angry, which would be more accurate. Either way, that chick now has two problems: the yeast infection and how to stop speech bubbles bursting out of her vagina and cursing up a storm when she has company over. Good luck with that.

 

Crazy is as crazy does


This dude in Austria apparently had a big bowl of crazy for breakfast one morning back in 1984. He kept his daughter locked in the basement for the past 24 years and fathered seven children with her.

 

I’ll give you a moment to get that full-body dry heave out of your system……

 

Back with me?

 

OK. So, on Sunday, he was arrested and charged with abduction, incest and abuse. Three of the children had never seen sunlight. The police said the daughter was ‘psychologically extremely disturbed’ – yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

 

I don’t get how something like that could go on for a quarter of a century and nobody have a clue. But I guess the only upshot of this story (if there ever could be one) is that karma will greet him in the form of prison and hopefully being anally raped on a daily basis.

 

If you would like a sleepless night…


One of my major fears has always been confined spaces. Elevators have been a particular problem for me. I once lived on the 7th floor of a building and not once did I get in the lift. I walked 14 flights of stairs, multiple times, daily. Yes, it took longer, but I had buns of steel. In recent years, I have become slightly better with my elevator phobia. I can get in some of the more modern ones, especially if they have mirrors, as that creates the illusion of space (and I can admire whatever wonder of fashion I happen to be donning that day). But, I made the mistake of watching this video last week and I have regressed to the ‘strictly stairs’ mentality.

 

This video is basically my worst nightmare. This man was trapped in an elevator in a New York City building for 41 hours. 41 hours!!! I was once trapped in an elevator in New York, but thankfully it was over in about 7 minutes (but that didn’t stop me crying like a baby).

 

I kid you not, I virtually had a panic attack watching this. So, if you suffer from the same fear as me, probably best not to press play. (The music alone is the stuff night terrors are made of.)

 

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Ever Heard of a Prenup?

Monday, March 17th, 2008


You know what I’d do if I I only had one leg, had done nothing but embarrass myself in a very public forum for months and had just won £24.3 million in a divorce settlement yesterday? I’d probably shut the hell up. I’d take my newly acquired fortune and I’d move to Armenia, or some such country, where the press don’t give a damn about me.

 

But something tells me that is not on the cards for Head Crazy Bitch in Charge, Heather Mills. As much as she bitched and moaned about being so hard done by in the press, she couldn’t wait to get out there and give them a waffling, rambling, stupidly long statement after the settlement had been announced. Even though she’s supposedly ‘very, very, very happy’ that the process is over and done with, I can’t help but think she’s probably a little pissed. I mean, the gravy train has stopped now. Where will she get her attention fix? Since she doesn’t really have anything to whore herself to the media about now, she must be at an absolute loss. Plus, she asked for £125 million and only got £24.3. That’s gotta hurt. Is it even worth getting out of bed in the morning for less than £25 mil?

 

But you know, this has all been about the daughter, Beatrice, of course. It wasn’t anything to do with the money grabbing, fame-hungry ways of Ms Mills. In the settlement there’s an alloted £35,000 a year for Beatrice and, needless to say, Mills found a way to bitch about this. ‘Beatrice only gets £35,000 a year – so obviously she’s meant to travel B class while her father travels A class,’ she was quoted as saying. Isn’t this kid only three years old? Where the hell is she going that a tricycle can’t take her? I guess the kid is developmentally challenged or something because Heather doesn’t seem to think that Beatrice will, one day, be able to make her own money to supplement that meagre 35K. My God Heather, I just don’t know how you’ll scrape by on that money. It’s not a huge insult to single mothers across the nation who are raising two or three kids on no more than £15,000 a year, not at all.

 

You know what I’d do if I was just awarded £24.3m, £35K of which goes to my daughter every year? I might consider saying thank you.

 

I’m no Paul McCartney fan, by any means, but I actually do have a little respect for him now. Throughout this whole process, he has not commented once. No matter how many times Mills did the rounds on TV and in the papers with her bat shit crazy stories, Paul kept his mouth shut. Hmm, reminds me of something I was talking about a couple of weeks ago.

 

But I think the real issue here is Mills’ courtroom attire. Who the hell goes to court wearing Joseph’s technicolor dream coat? Maybe that £24.3m will buy her some taste. But I doubt it.

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