a year ago i had so much friendship drama that it made me feel like i was in grade seven again. i didn't know what to make of it. after looking at the personalities involved from afar i realized that i was dealing with some cRaZy bitches. they weren't friends. nope, they were cRaZy bitches. i decided to call it quits on the cRaZy bitch tip, and i've been cRaZy-bitch-free for almost a year now. life is far more pleasant without being sucked into someone else's insanity, emotional neediness, and damaged personal life. after that cRaZiNeSs, i realized i needed to get smart and recognize the warning signs (see image): "Cling Factor of 10", major body image issues, "I think I have __(insert mental problem)__", LARP, "Let's get married, RIGHT NOW"... are you taking notes? this is really important stuff. it could save you 657 text messages, a password change on myspace, a trip to the doctor's office, a trip to jail, social disgrace, and a lot -i mean A LOT-of unnecessary hassle and annoying one-way conversations that don't go ANYWHERE. this is diamond spitting. write this down, and please note: cRaZy bitches aren't just females either.the biggest indicator of CrAzY bitch status is how unaware they are to the fact that the world DOES NOT revolve around them. their drama becomes YOUR drama, because the world (they think) revolves around them.
the CrAzY bitch does not know how to handle liquor, drugs, or liquor and drugs. the CrAZy bitch will throw a scene in public as if emily post never gave a word of advice. the CrAZy bitch will throw things at you, hit you, lie about you to illicit pity, and do some of the CrAzIeSt shit.
for the most part, a CrAzY bitch doesn't have time for conversations about films, politics, music, the weather, or your life and interests because it's not your gravy train. it's the CrAzY bitch's gravy train.
are you taking notes? do you have any questions? discuss.
tangent #1: do you know there is a product for sale at a liquor store in kansas city called 'possum pasties'? it is, literally, pasties made of possum fur. wtf? wtf? wtf? seriouslies. POSSUM PASTIES? the midwest should be ashamed of itself for living up to its own redneck reputation in this case. fur is dead and when we have to cover up our breasts because american laws dictate the exposure of female nipples to be a criminal offense, we don't need possums to do it. hello!
which leads me to...
tangent #2: america, i love you, but you're bringing me down.
5 comments:
Never knew about the possum pasties. It's so random. If you had told me a week ago that I needed to check the label on my pasties I would have called you a liar. :P
Lucky me. I think I have a crazy bitch lite. How do you deal with AR people you meet at Demos or org meetings that tell you they "became jesus" when they were high one night? Worse yet; how do you deal with this kinda crazy when they lock onto you, try to wrangle a friendship outta it, and then crazy cockblocks ya. Bogus, man.
The worst is when a Crazy Bitch, disguised as a regular bitch, has befriended you. You think to yourself, "She's not as bad as everyone makes her out to be." But low and behold, she morphs into Crazy Bitch and decides to twist, exaggerate, and obliterate any and all personal info you offered her to the highest bidder!
Lesson learned.
isn't bitching something you do all day?
(teehee)
I thought it said POSSUM PASTRIES at first...so I'm thinking - who would eat such a thing? And why the hell would you put them on your breasts?!? Then I realized you said PASTIES -- and now maybe it makes even less sense...
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