Bacon Dress

Dear Lurkey Co-workers,
Why? Why you gotta camp RIGHT outside the World’s Best Shittin’ Bathroom to eat your lunch? Then stare at me like I had just crapped out your whole family when I give up trying to wait you out like 20 min later? Dude, it’s hard enough for me to poo in public without you chatting right outside the goddamn door at Organ of Corti-shattering volumes, but then you make me do the walk of shit shame and you don’t even bother to act like you’re not horrified. Don’t you know it’s common courtesy to pretend like you don’t KNOW what was going on in there? God.
Disgruntles viscera,
Summie


Dear You Tube D-Bags,
You grossly underestimate how much I DO NOT want to hear you sing along with any given song. Like, what do you think is gonna happen from this? That Beck will be Googling himself and see your stupid gay video that you made of yourself sitting at your computer and shrieking “Debra” and think, dang. That girl is amazing. I should bone her? Or maybe you think someone will see it and think you’re amazing and want to bone you as you sign a record deal? Gross! Gross, gross, gross! Like, be productive and go do Karaoke! Or kill yourself! Just stop that stupid shit.
Disdainfully,
Summie

Dear Beast Master,
You pussy. Seriously. One time, the other cat Piper accidentally got shut in a closet for four days and did she piss herself? No. I got home from the trip, heard her yowl, let her out and she furiously bee-lined it for the litter box. But you. YOU. You wander your skinny ass into the closet and get locked in for four HOURS and piss on EVERYTHING in site. Like, dude, I had no idea you could hold that kind of volume in your tiny mass. So I kind of hate you right now and am so tired of drowning in a sea of cat urine that I’m about to skin all of you bitches and wear you as adorable hats/earmuffs.
Febreeze,
Mommy

I'm pissed. PISSED! I bought a brand new bikini for this summer, and it was all cute and red and like straight out of my mom's bathing suit selection circa 1986. A-fricking-dorable. I wear the thing twice, and the piece of shit breaks. Like I'm sitting there shoveling a perfectly grilled hot dog into my face and I hear a POP as the bra clasp snapped. Fortunately, I had a tank top on, so at least there was no Girls Gone Wild.

So I'm like fuck, but oh well because I have a backup bathing suit. I go put that fucker on, spend 3 whole seconds in it, and one of the plastic rings on the bottoms exploded. It was like Hiroshima in my pants. Thank god there were no innocent bystanders to A.) get blinded by my pale ass and/or B.) get killed in the face by bikini shrapnel.

And what really pisses me off is that like I'm not even gloriously fat and destroying bathing suits with my delicious big ass. They're just shittily made fake underwear that cost $40. Ug, so now I'm left having to buy yet ANOTHER bikini, which is about as much fun as killing then boiling your own pets.

God damn it.

How I missed this episode, I'll never know because this was my first two years of high school:



Not only did I totally sit in candle lit rooms, listening to Nine Inch Nails, and wearing torn fishnets, but I had that same god damn notebook full of angsty poetry. And the Denny's thing?! Oh my GOD. We LIVED in that hellhole! Drinking coffee and smoking cloves and ruining poor waitresses lives. Ahh, those were such good times!

And now, I go into Hot Topic because I wish I wasn't so old and decrepit that I could still wear pleather and skulls, and all these little clerk dicks look at me like what the hell are YOU doing in here? And I want to say, listen here, whipper snapper! I was Goth before there ever was even a thought of a national corporate conglomerate in every mall selling this awesome crap, so quit eying me in my Ann Taylor or I'll smear your adorable eyeliner! Bitches!

So, who wants to relive those moments with me and have a Goth party?! 'Cuz believe me when I tell you that I still own all of that shit... :)

For some reason, this makes me feel hella carsick:



Maybe it’s something to do with me being unable to reconcile my own happy childhood memories of carrying around my favorite stuffed bunny until she was hideously deformed and missing an eye, with someone else’s desire to just like, bend their bunny’s legs over its head and fuck it. In every orifice. And put tits on it.

Like, how many times do you have to get finger-banged by your relatives as a child to make you want to jerk off in the soulless, tainted, fluffy guts of a hyper-sexualized rabbit as an adult? I mean, I guess at least these people are banging fake animals instead of real animals, but FUCK. How frickin' terrible is it when that's the best thing I can come up with to say about a person?

Grodie!!