The Smug Singleton Projection

See, look at me, understanding a bad workweek is influencing my inclination to say, “Fuck this, I’m going home, and why is this New OkCupid Guy getting all bitchface at me? [He’s not, at all, my brain is just breaking.] I’m never dating again. No one’s dick is worth me having to get Date Pretty, what with the showering and the shaving things and the being charming — I have no charm, I hate everyone. I am officially OK dying sexless, peach fuzzy, and alone with my blankets and books.”

I KNOW WHEN I’M PROJECTING, SHITDICK ELBOW HECKLER.

Ahem. I feel better now.

Rich Bitchface

Amazon user review on Rich Bitch, by Nicole Lapin: “Having worked in finance for years, I know how dry and masculine conversations about money can be – but this book, on the other hand, is totally refreshing and entertaining. It offers a ton of empowering, insightful, and practical advice and is one of those books you get for every woman on your Christmas list.”

Ohhhhh… Go fuck yourself. Hard.

I almost don’t want to buy it now, but I do need a For-Dummies-like primer for my finances. But that’s not because I’m a woman, it’s because I’m a dumbass. Dicknuts.

I know I’m not a dumbass, I just have a hard time with numbers. And I wasn’t traumatized by gender inequality in my youth when the boys started dominating math — my parents are also shit with money, so the ineptitude is genetic.

I’m trying, but it’s just SO difficult with all the MANLINESS, you know? All those penises on the forms… How is my tiny lady-brain supposed to understand

The “P” in “PMS” stands for “pugilistic”

Apparently I’m so much of a flirt that men think it’s my default setting?

I’ve been texting with an OkCupid guy for a couple weeks. Today’s conversation began with him saying he hadn’t texted yesterday because his work life had been turned upside down, and then he found out his friend had been diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic.

I told him I was sorry, that sucked, and I hoped the weekend treated him better. He asked how my week was going, and I said, “Pretty good, no complaints,” because that is the answer to that question.

Then he asked if I was “still being a proper lady,” a joke I’ve been making about trying not to flirt too much before we actually meet.

Uh… Sorry, my bad. Didn’t know “paranoid schizophrenic” was supposed to affect my panty places. Should I have said, “Bummer. So, hey, how’s your dick doing?”

I told him it seemed odd to respond with smut, and he seemed pissy and said, “I was just explaining why my attentions had been elsewhere. But the turbulence has cleared and I’m back to blue skies now.”

OK. Well, sorry again. I didn’t notice the sun shining out of your ass, and didn’t know I was obligated to taste your rainbow whenever you feel like flirting.

I started composing a response, but everything I typed just sounded cunty. I put the phone down so I could think before I spoke.

My level of irritation caused me to go do the math on my menstrual cycle, because this bitchface felt prescient. And yep, should be any day now.

When I hadn’t answered an hour later, he followed up with, “Did I offend?” Yes. Yes, you did, but I don’t know if it makes sense that you did, or if I’m projecting issues from a previous “relationshit.” I need a minute. Plus, hi, there’s this new thing called work? I waited a day, you can’t wait an hour? No. That’s not how this is gonna go. <– Oof. Yeah, now that I write that, it’s related to past events, for sure. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be offended, but I should take it into account.

When I told him I was, “Just confused, and also working,” he said, “You’re supposed to stop working when I text you. I thought you knew that. 😛 Sorry if I confused you, though I’m not sure how. I hate text, you can’t convey tone well.” Hey, you know what didn’t just help your case, even with that bullshit “:P” after it…? (<– And that’s different baggage.)

He asked if he should stop texting me, and I said, “I might not respond right away, but you’re welcome to if you want.” He said he was afraid to, that the conversation was “colder than the air outside,” and that he was going to “retreat” and I could text him whenever I was free and felt like it. Again, the fuck? And again, Bitchface McMenses.

Also? I give ZERO fucks if you don’t text for 24 hours. We haven’t even met. You’re under no obligation to communicate with me every day, nor to explain yourself when you don’t.

I’ll stop this saga now. I think I just need to get some sleep. And maybe take my Midol before I come to class.

In which I’m pretty sure I’m happier than a model.

I bought this dress to wear to a concert, and I only just noticed the look on the model’s face: “Ohhhh, I’m a model, my life is so hard. I am thin and pretty and fabulous so I have bitchface all the time…” 

Dude. I’m not telling you to smile or anything, but… goddamn, maybe look LESS over your life in this garment? Who let this photo be THE one?

(I will look happier wearing it, because Anna Nalick shall be before me, gracing me with all her splendor.)

Also, it’s Vera Wang (for Kohl’s), so… Wang. Tee hee. (Not gonna lie, that influenced my purchase a teeeeeny bit.)

Bitchy McBitchface

Texting with a friend:

Me: “It’s not even ‘resting bitch face’ at this point. I have active bitch face.”

Friend: “And it’s only 9:15. Not a good preview of what today could entail.”

Me: “I have applied lipstick and coffee to the situation. (Bitchuation?) Results pending.”

“Do you think we can get Kat to take her Midol *before* she comes to class?”

Dear Brain,

Blame hormones all you want, but you’re being a bitch, and you need to stop. Bitchy is not fixing that situation. Nothing is fixing that situation except letting it go. Stop trying to make “fetch” happen.

No Love,
Logic

Who run the world? Um… girls…?

Well. This is depressing: A Glimpse at How the Media Treated Women This Year… Way Too Many Cringe-worthy Moments.

Prepare thine bitchfaces, ladies.

Bitchface on the Case

If you’re going to take my Facebook status about having Bitchface and use it to offer me sex, you should read more carefully. People who are good with words turn me on; having to clarify my words for you makes Bitchface worse.

“I don’t want to face humanity today” includes you. There are maybe five people it doesn’t include. If I don’t feel like facing humanity, chances are good I don’t feel like fucking it…even if fucking wouldn’t necessarily mean facing.

I don’t even want to talk to Jesus today. Do you think you’re better than Jesus? Because you’re not. YOU are humanity.