To whom it concerns,
I'm sorry that you have such a sad and boring life that you feel the compulsion to entertain yourself by bullying an amazing woman like my mother. She is loved by everyone that knows her. She is honest, caring and thoughtful -- 3 qualities you completely lack.
I'm sorry that you thought you would feel better about yourself by making up inflammatory lies about my mother and spreading them like diarrhea from your over-inflated ass.
I'm sorry you thought you could get away with your infantile (that means young or immature) behavior without consequence. My mother might be able to rise above it, but I'm not nearly as nice or forgiving as she is.
I'm sorry that you never graduated high school and feel insecure that everyone around you is more educated than yourself. I tried really hard to keep my words to no more than three syllables each.
And finally,
I'm sorry that I will likely never have the displeasure to see your smug face again. It would give me intense joy to return the favor and cause you even just one tenth (that's a fraction, by the way, or I could use 10% if that's easier for you to understand) the pain and stress that you have caused others.
The next time you're on you knees, it better not be for praying because that would make you the biggest (literally) fucking hypocrite north of the border. You'd be better off filling those loose lips of yours with something much less religious.
You are a putrid human being and quite frankly, a cunt.
Suck on it,
Lady E.
Showing posts with label Bitches. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bitches. Show all posts
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 7, 2013
In which I'm a bitch
I finally had my first orientation for the gastric by-pass procedure. It was just a general information session, held in a large lecture hall filled with fat people seats - wide and reinforced. Fuck, they're comfy . . . and absolutely fabulous for my self esteem. I'm not even being sarcastic -- I had a good 4 inches on either side that made me think that Burger King on the way home from this meeting would be totally harmless.
While we were waiting for the presentation to begin, there was a lot of silence and looking around. Basically, we were all sizing each other up, wondering how much weight each needed to loose. I know this because 90% of the candidates were women. Big women. And we were there for one reason and one reason only, so it's only natural, right?
And possibly because I'm a bitch.
I was frequently entertaining myself with fat jokes that swirled around in my head -- perhaps that's what was helping me get through. I mean, this surgery is a big fucking deal and it's a lot of life changing information to process. Inappropriate humor is how I cope.
Plus, isn't there some unwritten rule that you're allowed to mock a certain group of people as long as you're one of them?
Yes, that.
But here's the thing: It WAS NOT an intimate support group setting. Spouses and other family members and friends were there as well. It was hosted by one militant nurse. She stood on a podium and sternly listed off facts and requirements to the entire group, which was no less than 50 people.
I remember from being back in University how there was always that ONE person that believed that lecture time was a one-on-one tutorial; this night was no exception. This also meant I didn't have to provide my own entertainment anymore -- it was suddenly being provided.
To set the scene, picture a version of Nanny McPhee (sans mole) that had just swallowed a manatee and possibly lived in a trailer park. Her husband sat beside her. He was 1/3 her size, both height and width, and likely suffering from blood loss as she never once let go of his hand with her giant woman grip.
Nurse: "You must drink 8 glasses of water a day, but in small sips. That's the tricky part."
Trailer Park McPhee's hand shoots up: "But what if you suffer from dry mouth? I have that and water doesn't work. Even sitting here right now, I'm dying of thirst."
I didn't need to know about your pasty mouth.
Minutes later, nurse: "If you're on anti-depressants, please do not suddenly go off them."
TPMP, blurting out with her hand in the air: "I'm on those. That's what causes my dry mouth!"
Congratulations on that over-share.
Then someone came in very late and there was no way the nurse was going to let her slip in quietly, "You are late. Too late. Where are you coming from? Far?"
The embarrassed woman noded.
"Fine. If you were local, I'd make you re-book and come back. If you're coming from London, I'll have to let it slide . . . THIS TIME."
TPMP, yelling out like it's a motherfucking Baptist church, "Uuuh huh. That's us!"
She wasn't even talking to you; no one gives a fuck where you live.
A little while later, nurse: "In some cases, there may be hair thinning."
TPMP, again, without even raising her hand, "What if you have pre-existing female pattern baldness? Does it make it worse? I already have to wear a hairpiece."
Holy hell. Bitch has got it all goin' on!
And let me be clear that it wasn't her actual ailments that were obnoxious, it was just her. All of her. And please remember there was no less than FIFTY people in this room. I almost wanted to jump up and yell, "Bitch! This ain't live action Twitter!"
My husband leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I bet'cha she was a riot in high school."
Snort! I leaned back over to him and whispered back, "I love you."
So when it came time to discuss how there actually are REAL support groups (and as much as it is surely comforting being around people going though the same thing as me), if this crazy woman is in my group, I'm going to have to pull a Ryan King on her fat ass . . .
While we were waiting for the presentation to begin, there was a lot of silence and looking around. Basically, we were all sizing each other up, wondering how much weight each needed to loose. I know this because 90% of the candidates were women. Big women. And we were there for one reason and one reason only, so it's only natural, right?
And possibly because I'm a bitch.
I was frequently entertaining myself with fat jokes that swirled around in my head -- perhaps that's what was helping me get through. I mean, this surgery is a big fucking deal and it's a lot of life changing information to process. Inappropriate humor is how I cope.
Plus, isn't there some unwritten rule that you're allowed to mock a certain group of people as long as you're one of them?
Yes, that.
But here's the thing: It WAS NOT an intimate support group setting. Spouses and other family members and friends were there as well. It was hosted by one militant nurse. She stood on a podium and sternly listed off facts and requirements to the entire group, which was no less than 50 people.
I remember from being back in University how there was always that ONE person that believed that lecture time was a one-on-one tutorial; this night was no exception. This also meant I didn't have to provide my own entertainment anymore -- it was suddenly being provided.
To set the scene, picture a version of Nanny McPhee (sans mole) that had just swallowed a manatee and possibly lived in a trailer park. Her husband sat beside her. He was 1/3 her size, both height and width, and likely suffering from blood loss as she never once let go of his hand with her giant woman grip.
Nurse: "You must drink 8 glasses of water a day, but in small sips. That's the tricky part."
Trailer Park McPhee's hand shoots up: "But what if you suffer from dry mouth? I have that and water doesn't work. Even sitting here right now, I'm dying of thirst."
I didn't need to know about your pasty mouth.
Minutes later, nurse: "If you're on anti-depressants, please do not suddenly go off them."
TPMP, blurting out with her hand in the air: "I'm on those. That's what causes my dry mouth!"
Congratulations on that over-share.
Then someone came in very late and there was no way the nurse was going to let her slip in quietly, "You are late. Too late. Where are you coming from? Far?"
The embarrassed woman noded.
"Fine. If you were local, I'd make you re-book and come back. If you're coming from London, I'll have to let it slide . . . THIS TIME."
TPMP, yelling out like it's a motherfucking Baptist church, "Uuuh huh. That's us!"
She wasn't even talking to you; no one gives a fuck where you live.
A little while later, nurse: "In some cases, there may be hair thinning."
TPMP, again, without even raising her hand, "What if you have pre-existing female pattern baldness? Does it make it worse? I already have to wear a hairpiece."
Holy hell. Bitch has got it all goin' on!
And let me be clear that it wasn't her actual ailments that were obnoxious, it was just her. All of her. And please remember there was no less than FIFTY people in this room. I almost wanted to jump up and yell, "Bitch! This ain't live action Twitter!"
My husband leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I bet'cha she was a riot in high school."
Snort! I leaned back over to him and whispered back, "I love you."
So when it came time to discuss how there actually are REAL support groups (and as much as it is surely comforting being around people going though the same thing as me), if this crazy woman is in my group, I'm going to have to pull a Ryan King on her fat ass . . .
Feb 16, 2012
My Backbone? Whoomp! There It Is!
I've never really revealed much about my time as a teacher or why I'm not one anymore. I thought I'd take this opportunity with Mama Kat's "A Memorable Day at Work" theme, because I don't think I will ever forget this day.
A few weeks before, I had been brought into the Headmaster's office with my colleague sitting in the corner with pursed lips and a smug face. It was explained to me that my teaching skills weren't "up to their school's high standards" and that I would NOT be asked back for the following year.
I was devastated.
I loved that school and most of the kids in it. It was my first full year teaching. What they "expected" from me was a load of fucking bullshit. I was (and still am) a perfectionist and I put my heart and soul into that job. I never did anything half-assed. I spent mornings, nights, lunches and weekends helping any student that needed it. But here's the thing...
The morning of my FIRST day on the job, I was asked to take out my eyebrow piercing and I refused. They had 10 weeks of meetings and training with me to ask me about it before that morning. It's not like it was something I could hide. So, of course, I was pretty upset about that. I told them if they had asked me before, I would have taken it out so it would have had time to heal. I wasn't going to have two holes in my face on my first day on the job.
And I thought that was the end of it. But it wasn't.
My colleague, who was more than pleasant at the beginning (she was only a few years older than myself), began being terribly passive-aggressive towards me. I just ignored her. I don't have time for bullshit behavior like that at my work place. And it got worse and worse, to the point it became full out bitchiness and cruel bullying; not to mention she did this in front of the students which was so fucking unprofessional.
So on this particular day, the NEW teacher that was going to replace me came for a visit. I had nothing against him. I welcomed him into what was soon to be his room; I had a class currently underway. I showed him around; where things were kept, et cetra, et cetra. It was a fairly uneventful interaction.
After class, my colleague stormed into my empty room, "How DARE you speak to the new teacher! You have no right!"
And here's right about where 10 months of her under-handed psychological tormenting came to a really big ugly motherfucking head and I exploded:
HOW DARE I? LAST TIME I CHECKED, I WAS A FUCKING HUMAN BEING AND I CAN SPEAK TO WHOMEVER I WANT TO. I AM LEAVING, YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED, SO FUCK OFF AND DON'T SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN. YOU'RE A BITCH AND EVERYONE KNOWS IT AND YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS OF ME BECAUSE ALL THE STUDENTS CAME TO ME FOR HELP INSTEAD OF YOU AND THAT'S THE REAL REASON WHY YOU HAD ME FIRED. YOU'RE A PETTY AND PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A TEACHER.
Oh yeah, I went there, and it felt so gawd damn amazing. She stood there, stunned. I had taken her abuse and snide remarks all year. It was the last thing she expected from me, I'm certain of it. Then, she attempted to rebut: "And you with your stupid damn eyebrow ring. You're the unprofessional one. Do you have any idea how much of a disappointment you are?" Oh, right... we're rehashing THAT up, are we? OK...
YOU SAID YOU WERE PROUD OF ME FOR STANDING UP FOR MYSELF, YOU FUCKING TWO-FACED BITCH. YOU KNOW HOW UPSET THAT ISSUE MADE ME. AND WHILE WE'RE ON THE TOPIC OF UNPROFESSIONALISM, LET'S BRING UP THE FACT THAT YOU DIDN'T EVEN SHOW UP TO YOUR OWN ART SHOW AND I COVERED FOR YOU. AND THAT WAS JUST...LAST...WEEK. YOU'RE THE ONE THAT DISAPPOINTED ME. YOU WERE MEANT TO BE MY MENTOR AND FRIEND BUT INSTEAD, YOU TURNED OUT TO BE A SELFISH COW THAT TOOK SOME SICK PLEASURE IN TORMENTING ME. WE ARE DONE HERE.
And you want to know something? That night was the first good night's sleep I had had in months. Sure, I had lost my job, but I said my peace and didn't go out with my tail between my legs. It still breaks my heart that in the end, it was the kids that lost out. They even started a petition to try to get me to stay... which of course, was also my fault that caused "a very awkward situation".
Karma is a sneaky bitch though. That colleague had a nervous breakdown and split from her husband over that summer holiday and she was off work until Christmas. They didn't even get a long-term supply to take her place! I emailed the Headmaster and offered my services once a week to help the students with their projects, since I was already more than familiar with them. And that I would gladly do it FOR FREE.
He never replied.
I win.
The end.
A few weeks before, I had been brought into the Headmaster's office with my colleague sitting in the corner with pursed lips and a smug face. It was explained to me that my teaching skills weren't "up to their school's high standards" and that I would NOT be asked back for the following year.
I was devastated.
I loved that school and most of the kids in it. It was my first full year teaching. What they "expected" from me was a load of fucking bullshit. I was (and still am) a perfectionist and I put my heart and soul into that job. I never did anything half-assed. I spent mornings, nights, lunches and weekends helping any student that needed it. But here's the thing...
The morning of my FIRST day on the job, I was asked to take out my eyebrow piercing and I refused. They had 10 weeks of meetings and training with me to ask me about it before that morning. It's not like it was something I could hide. So, of course, I was pretty upset about that. I told them if they had asked me before, I would have taken it out so it would have had time to heal. I wasn't going to have two holes in my face on my first day on the job.
And I thought that was the end of it. But it wasn't.
My colleague, who was more than pleasant at the beginning (she was only a few years older than myself), began being terribly passive-aggressive towards me. I just ignored her. I don't have time for bullshit behavior like that at my work place. And it got worse and worse, to the point it became full out bitchiness and cruel bullying; not to mention she did this in front of the students which was so fucking unprofessional.
So on this particular day, the NEW teacher that was going to replace me came for a visit. I had nothing against him. I welcomed him into what was soon to be his room; I had a class currently underway. I showed him around; where things were kept, et cetra, et cetra. It was a fairly uneventful interaction.
After class, my colleague stormed into my empty room, "How DARE you speak to the new teacher! You have no right!"
And here's right about where 10 months of her under-handed psychological tormenting came to a really big ugly motherfucking head and I exploded:
HOW DARE I? LAST TIME I CHECKED, I WAS A FUCKING HUMAN BEING AND I CAN SPEAK TO WHOMEVER I WANT TO. I AM LEAVING, YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED, SO FUCK OFF AND DON'T SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN. YOU'RE A BITCH AND EVERYONE KNOWS IT AND YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS OF ME BECAUSE ALL THE STUDENTS CAME TO ME FOR HELP INSTEAD OF YOU AND THAT'S THE REAL REASON WHY YOU HAD ME FIRED. YOU'RE A PETTY AND PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A TEACHER.
Oh yeah, I went there, and it felt so gawd damn amazing. She stood there, stunned. I had taken her abuse and snide remarks all year. It was the last thing she expected from me, I'm certain of it. Then, she attempted to rebut: "And you with your stupid damn eyebrow ring. You're the unprofessional one. Do you have any idea how much of a disappointment you are?" Oh, right... we're rehashing THAT up, are we? OK...
YOU SAID YOU WERE PROUD OF ME FOR STANDING UP FOR MYSELF, YOU FUCKING TWO-FACED BITCH. YOU KNOW HOW UPSET THAT ISSUE MADE ME. AND WHILE WE'RE ON THE TOPIC OF UNPROFESSIONALISM, LET'S BRING UP THE FACT THAT YOU DIDN'T EVEN SHOW UP TO YOUR OWN ART SHOW AND I COVERED FOR YOU. AND THAT WAS JUST...LAST...WEEK. YOU'RE THE ONE THAT DISAPPOINTED ME. YOU WERE MEANT TO BE MY MENTOR AND FRIEND BUT INSTEAD, YOU TURNED OUT TO BE A SELFISH COW THAT TOOK SOME SICK PLEASURE IN TORMENTING ME. WE ARE DONE HERE.
And you want to know something? That night was the first good night's sleep I had had in months. Sure, I had lost my job, but I said my peace and didn't go out with my tail between my legs. It still breaks my heart that in the end, it was the kids that lost out. They even started a petition to try to get me to stay... which of course, was also my fault that caused "a very awkward situation".
Karma is a sneaky bitch though. That colleague had a nervous breakdown and split from her husband over that summer holiday and she was off work until Christmas. They didn't even get a long-term supply to take her place! I emailed the Headmaster and offered my services once a week to help the students with their projects, since I was already more than familiar with them. And that I would gladly do it FOR FREE.
He never replied.
I win.
The end.
Mar 17, 2011
Didn't You Know?
That's right; it's been decided. The other day Kris over at Pretty All True was expressing her love for the Urban Dictionary on her twitter and I thought, 'Oh Yeah, I love that site up, down and sideways!' I have referred to it on numerous occasions when people have said something and I would be feeling like I was 10 years too late to the prom. What the hell were they talking about? Urban Dictionary consistently has the answer for me. I always thought I was fairly articulate, but it's a whole new ball game out there and I'm sadly only on first base.
Wow, I haven't said that since I was 11. Waa-wuhh.
So, whether or not you've been following my recent predicament, it occurred to me that a certain someone has probably created a special word for me and I could only imagine what it could be... and then I was reminded about the UD and I had a scan around to broaden my vocabulary. If I may offer up a suggestion, I totally want to be called a Cunt Dragon! Please? Can I? Can I?
It's offensive with a splash of mythical grandeur, don't you think? Can I express my inner anger through my vagina? I suuuuure as hell can! I LOVE IT. It's a worthy insult to which I can be 100% satisfied with.
So, now that I have officially manged to profoundly insult someone on my blog and spark some heated conversation, does that mean I've finally made it? Do I win a prize? Well, if my site traffic spiking through the roof and my host provider emailing me to tell me I need to increase my monthly bandwidth allowance is deemed a prize, I'll gladly take that with tea and a biscuit!
And for any future offenses that I
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