I don't claim by any means to be anything close to perfection. That being said, I feel like it is time for me to let out a few of the things that bother me about people. I don't care if I've known them since birth, a couple of years, or for 30 seconds. I just wish I was ballsy enough to say it to their face. Well, to strangers anyway. I'm related to some of these people.
Okay, I am no Mary Kay or Estee Lauder, but damn, if your eye makeup looks like you just got to the women's shelter, you really need to rethink your look before you take your very pregnant ass out in public with the husband who people will think beat you. Mirrors were made for a reason. So was facial cleanser and eye makeup remover. I'm sure taking an extra 30 seconds to make sure you don't look like a battered wife won't make you miss your reservation to whatever classy place you're going. In your crushed velvet dress. With your Bert unibrow. Shiiiiiiiiiiit. I could go on forever.
Those glasses that turn into sunglasses when you go outside and back to regular lenses indoors...I don't even know what to say. But I'm pretty sure that you could have gotten prescription sunglasses and regular glasses for the same price. At least you're not wearing those "As Seen On TV" HD sunglasses. You're not, right?
Your muffin top, um, not so much a breakfasty type muffin. More like a birthday cake in the shape of a cupcake. Times 12. Please wear pants that fit. Please. (Who decided to call that shit "muffin top" anyway? I like a good muffin. Now I'm disgusted by the name. Ruins my blueberry goodness. Or chocolate chocolate chip. nom. Poor Otis Spunkmeyer is rolling in his grave. heh... spunk.)
I don't know about you, but when I'm sitting in my car, waiting on my Nana or whoever to finish their business in the post office, I don't make it a point to roll down my window and holler at a woman who is attempting to wrangle a toddler into his car seat to tell her that you can see that she has patterned underwear on under white shorts. Thanks for the tip, lady. And why are you checking out my butt?
Speaking of the post office... My son is a BOY. Last time I checked anyway. If he decides he wants to dress up as a woman later in life, fine, but I'm pretty sure TODAY, lady, he's not looking too feminine. OH, you mean his HAIR? Yeah, it's messy and curly and all sorts of out of control. What? You think he needs a haircut? I couldn't help myself, people. Couldn't. Help. My. Self. So I kind of on purpose made her feel like shit that the reason he hasn't had a haircut is because his dad is in a war zone. EAT IT, lady who "needs this box to get to Australia as fast and as cheap as I can!" She turned around and was all, uh, I have no comeback for that. Of COURSE you don't. I'M WINNING, duh.
If you are so miserable, yet do nothing to change your situation, fuck you in the ear. You are so unbearable, men who used to want to get in your pants can't even stand to be around you. Your "mini-me" doesn't want to be around you either. Pull the stick out of your ass and appreciate what you have. Because there are people who would kill to have your set up, you spoiled rotten douchecanoe.
.Wear your teeth in public. A great example of wearing your teeth in public would have been at my wedding reception. I guess I should thank you for leaving them in for pictures, but wrapping them in a napkin at dinner "because it's easier to eat without them" - fuck you in the ear too.
Anyone need to let out a little hostility? It's quite cathartic. Go on. You know you want to.