June 7, 2001
Trish: Bitterness Expert and Part-Time Psychologist
Um yeah, I decided you skanks were privileged enuff to receive some of my bitter truth, since it’s been a minute since my lazy ass has graced these magical keys.
Naw, for real I been as bitter as usual lately, maybe even more than usual. But the problem comes when I sit down to try to type this shit out, either someone needs something, or there’s an appointment I forgot about, or oh shit, "I guess I should go to work today." Something is always coming up, that’s the way it always goes. Always some shit. So on with some of that shit…
Tha Crime….And Punishment
Call me Trish: bitterness expert and now part time psychologist. These “friends” of mine have irked me to the point of no return. They all of a sudden think that my main point in life is to be on call to give them advice for their fucked up lives. And contrary to popular belief, this chick here ain't got shit straight, so it’s like goin to a nun for advice on how to get your man to go down on you once in a while, obviously the wrong choice.
First it was the “friend” who called to complain about her man, who is 24, has no job and is fat and lazy. She asked “How do I tell him I’m not supporting him anymore?” Ummm, you just told me, tell his fat ass and leave me alone. What could I possibly say to this chick? She ain't looking for advice, she’s complaining, and believe me, I complain enough for all my female friends combined.
Next it was the really fucked up friend, we all have at least one of these. He/She might have mad kids, or be pregnant, have no man/girl, fuck whoever look at them the right way, shit job, hoopty car, livin with they momma’s but think they got shit lovely. Well this “friend” calls me at the drop of a hat to ask for advice about her baby daddy. The chick is 20 and lives with her momma, the dude she got pregnant by is 30, has 5 other kids, pays no child support b-cuz his ass has no job, and oh yeah he’s engaged to someone else. My “friend” knows he has a fiancé, yet fucks him when he calls and wants to “chill” and then has the nerve to call me and say “he fucked me in the car then took me home” or “he said I was fat”, or here’s the kicker “he said he couldn’t chill tonight because he had to take his fiancé to work!"
Can you believe that?” This ain't even the only dude she’s fuckin, the ho factor on my dear friend has risen dramatically since her ass got pregnant. How you gonna be 5 months pregnant and fuckin a different dude every night? It’s amazing that she can’t see how stupid she is, or how nasty she is for that matter. It should be a crime for nasty stupid people to not be aware of their own level of skankness and stupidity. My advice to her every time was, “He played you, stop talking to the fuckin crackhead.” The punishment for these “friends” crimes… fuck you, pay me and until I get a check in the mail don’t fuckin call me.
Die Bitch Die
In light of this gay drama shit surrounding the whole Oklahoma city bomber dude: whats-his-name... Timothy McVeigh. I have to talk shit. I knew this shit wasn’t gonna go down smoothly, it’s un-American for something to not cause controversy.
Who the fuck cares what files the FBI withheld? The dude said he did it and said his funky-mental-patient ass wants to die anyways. What’s the delay? Dayum, you’d think Dubya would say, fuck that, let this bitch fry, since in his home state of Texas, people get executed for much less extreme crimes. In Texas, their specialty is fried bank robber, sautéed drug dealer, and baked rapist, who all get put to death in a hot second. Yet a dude who killed 168 people and for racially motivated reasons causes all this indecision? What the fuck kinda country do we live in? Let the bitch die.
Yee-Haw, I’m feelin a lil thirsty
I guess along with the clueless look and beady lil eyes, the Bush twins inherited from their Pa, they also inherited the keen love of alcohol and related issues.
I know ya’ll heard that the president’s underage daughters (yeah, both of em) got caught trying to buy beer with a fake ID. This ain't even the first time. This is pure comedy to me. What next? They gonna be smoking crack on the Abe Lincoln Memorial? This family has more substance abuse problems than Robert Downey Jr., oh wait, maybe not, he’s pretty fucked up.
I peeped this site called the first twins
and they have an excellent picture of the 2 skank daughters, drunk as hell, fallin all over each other; it’s truly a Kodak moment that belongs on the wall of the White House. This shit was weak though, even after the shit was in the news, Dubya made no statements about it and his ass didn’t even go back to Texas to whip some ass. If my dad was president, he’d hold a press conference so the whole world could witness my ass beatin. As he draws his hand back slowly to slap the shit out of me again, he’d be saying “You’re making me” SLAAAAP! “Look.. . Bad.. ” SLAAAAP!
I’d rather have a man-whore like Clinton, as president, than an alcoholic-cokehead with even more alcoholic-cokeheads for a family... that’s just me.
Clinton had that fat chick in the ugly blue dress, sucking his dick under a White House desk but he still did his job; business as usual. Ahhhhhh the good ole days! Now we gotta deal with this dumb, gay, ass president and hear waaaay too much about his slow, butt-ugly daughters. If you can’t control your kids, how are you gonna run the country?
Speakin of old, beady eyed, clueless freaks, (I'm cruel, I know) let’s talk about the…
I know ya’ll know who I’m talking about. Anyone who holds a drivers license or has ever driven a car, even once in their lives, has encountered these creatures called bluehairs.
These are the old bags in the Oldsmobiles or Cadillacs who you constantly get stuck behind, doin 5 miles an hour in a 45mph speed zone. They don’t use turn signals and can hardly even see over the dashboard, fuck, they can hardly see at all. I’m so sick of having near misses with the bluehairs, I’d rather take the dayum bus myself.
Old people should have to re-take their driver’s test when they reach the age of like 55, and if your ass can’t see over the dashboard, your license should be taken away, ripped up, burned and never spoken of again. I’ve almost been run off the road by a bluehair - more than once - the only way I knew it was a bluehair was cuz all I could see was the old, white/blue hair and wrinkly knuckles gripping the top of the steering wheel. They are willing to put our lives in danger just to make a quick run down to the Walmart for a economy size package of Depends adult diapers and their prescription of Viagra.
Take the bus, you old muthafuckas!
And it Starts…
Well, well, well it looks like summer is here, no turning back now. The warm weather has arrived and along with it, the millions of people who will commit fashion faux pas this season. The fashion police are suiting up and ret to go!
I myself witness this phenomena of summertime fashion mistakes on the daily. It usually consists of fat chicks in half shirts and halter tops, daisy dukes, with numerous rolls of fat pouring, yes, pouring out of the open spaces and orifices, from their heads down to the toes, that seem to also be pouring out of their sandals, like big rolls of bread dough.
I wonder if they own a mirror?
How long does it take to butter them thighs to squeeze into those size 16 jean shorts?
Do they not bother wasting time squeezing and just spray em with PAM?
On the other end of the spectrum are the tall, skinny white chicks, tanned beyond belief, who wear a size 1 shorts, and tube tops with nothing to hold em up. These chicks have washboard chests instead of washboard abs. Either it’s a lil cold outside or their nipples have left a permanent mark in their tops. As a female, the last thing I want to see is another chicks nipples poking through her shirt. I don’t know if the tanning salon is having a special this month, but when your skin makes a cracking noise when you smile, you know you’re a lil over-baked. Maybe it’s a two for one deal and the cancer specialists are having a special for all the wannabe-future-skin-cancer-patients who bake themselves silly at the tanning salon.
Anyway, just prepare yourselves for the scary sights this summer. People have gotten buckwild with their fashion sense and it never seems to stop. When you go outside look around. Do it. I bet someone in the area is committing a summer fashion no-no. All we can do is watch the fat jiggle as they walk by, cover our eyes to avoid the flat chests and hard nipples, and start the shit talking.
And you thought I would…
I know you’re waiting for it, you’re thinking isn’t this chick gonna talk about basketball? My answer: Nope! I’m just gonna sit back and enjoy that my team: the 76'ers, got as far as this. I ain't sayin they’re gonna win the championship cuz the Lakers prolly will (cheatin summamabitches) I’m just sayin, look at Allen go! He got his team here and I’m just lovin it. That man, mmm, mmmm, mmmm. Ooooh it jus got a lil hot up in here, it’s time for me to bounce. Hopefully, I won’t see your ass around my way in your summer wardrobe cuz believe me, I will talk shit.
Until next time, keep it bitter and keep talking much shit.