I have a new car. I am in love with it so hard. Basically when I am not working, I am sitting in it, stroking it or staring lovingly into it's headlights. It's my bestest grown up toy to date. If I could park it inside my house I would. It's been distracting me from my blogging duties but bare with me, I will get bored of it in due time.
Behold, this weeks Assholes.
Writing on Ass of Pants Assholes
A whore just walked past me in fuchsia pink sweat pants with the word HOT in capitals, with an exclamation mark, plastered across the ass of her pants. I don't know for a fact that she was a real whore, but her whore pants were made entirely of whore. I could tell.
Now I'm all for radiating positive body image.......within reason. But this girls backend was so big she could actually sell shade if she got desperate for money. It was also so dam saggy that she was basically butt punching herself in the back of her calves.
In my pre-meditated defence, I'm not really being mean. I got visually assaulted by her whore pants!
Where in gods universe did she get the idea that her overzealous pant eating back fanny is indeed hot? Then force me look at it by having writing on the back of her pants exclaiming hotness of the posterior. Bitch please........that ain't hot.
Big Ass Pants Girl, if you want to keep it real, buy a pair of highviz horror pants with PIES written on the ass. Cos then I will totally get it.
Word Pants are not cool. Please don't get sneaky with the contradictions & force me to read them off your bottom. Because I really don't want to.
NB: Same rule applies for statement/quote t-shirts. If you walk past me & your t-shirt says "I'm sexy & I know it" & you're clearly not, then I have two words...... fuck you.
And three more........ better start running.
I'm better than you Assholes
There are many types of better than you assholes. But the one I detest the most is the reformed smoker better than you asshole.
Nothing makes me rage more than having a holier than thou reformed smoker frown upon me for being a slave to the dirty habit.
One elderly man nearly received a vicious verbal beating one afternoon a few years back when I was sitting down the main street of my fair city chaffing on a death stick. Happily minding my own business, he approached me & asked if I knew how bad cigarettes were for me & that they can possibly give me cancer of the lungs. He proceeded to regale me with his life story & how much more awesome he is now because he no longer smokes. He had major tude. Like big bitchin old man tude.
So I told him that I choose to smoke because I've always wanted to get a big hole bored through my throat so I can have a robot voice & walk around scaring small children. I also told him that it would be rad to have a portable microphone with me at all times because dang it I like to be heard.
Obviously I wasn't being serious, but I was piss mad at him for feeling like he had the right to give me a lecture just because he feels awesome. It's not illegal to smoke cigarettes. Although it should be because it's downright deadly filthy & I know this. Boy do I know this.
I am the master of my own destiny. And regardless of the fact that people care so deeply about my health, shut your piehole. Please.
I have given up before. Many times. I know the feeling of pride & elation that one can be overwhelmed with when you chase away a demon. It feels awesome. All I ask is that you keep it on the inside & don't use it as a guilt weapon for those that still suffer from an addiction. Not just me but others that are still fighting.
You are not better then me. A little smarter maybe, but definitely not better. So stick that in your pipe & not smoke it. Beeee-arch.
*NB: This tirade is not aimed at all reformed smokers. Just the high & mighty king of their own castle type.
Child Abusing Assholes
I think we've already established that I have minor rage issues & am extremely opinionated about basically everything. Most of the time I can keep the rage in check but sometimes I see something that makes me so dam angry that not saying anything would be a crime.
Returning to my office on Friday arvo after completing some work errands, I noticed a woman sitting in the front seat of her car smoking a cigarette. No big deal right? I didn't think much more of it until I happened to spy a new born baby laying in it's car seat & 2 other small children sitting in the back seat of her car.
Then shit got real.
My ears started to ring & I felt my blood pressure go from normal to apeshit angry in a split second.
Without even a second thought to my own personal safety, I marched up to the car door behind the passenger door & ripped it open. She jumped in her seat, looked at me wide eyed & panicky & asked what the hell I thought I was doing.
In a calm yet stern voice I told the child abuser that I was granting her babies their right to breath non poisonous air. And that if she thinks suffocating her own children with cigarette smoke was good parenting then she should have her kids taken off her. And then, I told her I felt sorry for her children, that she was a disgusting asshole & I walked away.
I walked in to my office & sat down to watch what she did next. She got out of her car & finished her cigarette.
I have literally hung out of the passenger window of our car like a wild dog screaming at bastards that smoke in their cars while their kids are in the back. I will not tolerate this. It is child abuse & it makes me very very sad.
When I was living in Auckland a lady got out of her car at a traffic light & threatened to put her fist through my skull after I had hurled verbal abuse at her for smoking while her kids were in the car. She never did put her fist through my skull. Which is good because I really like my face. Although I would just like to state, for the record, despite her largeness & probable methamphetamine fuelled anger, I would have drop kicked that bitch like a tennis ball.
I don't know what will happen to those precious babies in the back of that lady's car. But I hope they make it in life. Statistics say they won't, but underneath my quick draw rage is a shit tonne of hope. Hope is my weapon of choice.
Mood Ring/Mood Pillow buying Assholes
I would just like to say, on behalf of everyone in the universe, if you actually need a ring to tell you how sad you are today, then your psychological issues run deeper than you initially thought.
The only time this rule does not apply is if you are a 12 year old girl purchasing a mood ring from the $2 shop. Youthful curiosity is not a crime. I bought a mood ring myself when I was 12 because I was emotionally confused & needed some devine clarification. Mum banned me from calling the Clairvoyant hotlines after a rather large phone bill, so I did what any normal pre-teen girl would do, I bought a goddam mood ring.
It was only after wearing it for a week & the metal started to eat my finger, I thought maybe the mood ring wasn't for me.
I was sent an email yesterday by an online shop advertising a mood pillow. It changes colours as you sleep.
When I sleep, everything is pretty good wherever my subconscious mind goes to. If my husband wakes up & sees that my mood pillow is black, black basically meaning my soul has died, he would unnecessarily panic & assume his lovely wife has crossed over to the dark side. If the pillow was red, meaning hate rage, he would think yes she really does keep that shit going 24/7.
I don't like to be misleading, especially to the man who lets me touch his ball sac whenever I feel the need.
Also, the main selling point for the mood pillow is that the colour changes on your pillow while you sleep creating a relaxing & soothing ambiance. Well hello stupid fucks, I hate to point out the obvious, if you are sleeping you can hardly enjoy the ambiance?
I am hoping to make The Asshole Sessions a weekly thing. If there is something ripping your tits that you feel needs airing by yours truly, flick me an email at firstname.lastname@example.org & let that asshole hatin' rage fly. I will do my best to hang that shit out to dry on your behalf.
I am thinking of starting my own Anti-Asshole Brigade, with our own secret hand sign & shit. I want this to a universal group of vigilantes ready & willing to take down life's assholes. You would get a t-shirt. And a mood ring.
Right, I have a quick giveaway. Sorry to my overseas buddys but this one is only for my homies in Nelson. On Sunday 27th of this month my favourite NZ band, The Black Seeds, are playing at the Nelson School of Music. They are touring their new album 'Dust & Dirt'. I have seen them live about 4 times & they are the bomb diggity.
- The prize is one General Admission Ticket to The Black Seeds Dust & Dirt Tour at NSOM, 48 Nile St, May 27th 2012.
- To win you have to leave a comment on this post. I will draw the name at random & will announce the winner on Sunday night NZ time.
- I will be your date. There will be no hand holding, pashing or bump n grinding because I'm married & that's not allowed.
- My skin will not be available for peeling off my body to wear as a raincoat. I may do a security background check on you just to be sure.
- I may buy you one drink on the basis that is a Sunday & you will probably have to work the next day. I am a responsible host.
- I will have 3 bodyguards with me. Hayley, Amber & Katie. They are very good at judo chopping & fuck kicking.
- You must be a follower of my blog to win this prize.
- You cannot sell your ticket to a someone else because I want to go a date with YOU.
- If you do not know who The Black Seeds are, first of all WTF man!! Secondly, I suggest you watch the video below because I will be giving you a pop quiz.
Peace, Love & down with mongrel assholes!
P.S An old school friend of mine has just ventured into the world of Blogging. Her name is Jess & not only is she one creative lady but she is also knowledgeable in the world of beauty, a kickass entrepreneur & a major stunner herself. She can also make one gorgeous small person. Her little boy is delicious!
Jess has just opened an eyebrow beauty bar in South Yarra, Victoria, specialising in Eyebrow Threading & keeping your eye moustaches in check. Aptly named the Play. The Brow Bar.
She has planted her own blog seed, sharing her own unique beauty knowledge.
Check out Jess's blog here. Go show my lady some love.