B*tches

On the same night I encountered Dick, a group of friends decided to indulge in a 4th meal at Goody's. Knowing me, I was left behind. Thankfully, I located JFed. We walked up the street to Goody's and found our friends waiting in line.

Upon approaching, I smelled something very familiar. It's a scent I love to hate, as it draws great memories of FWI (fighting under the influence). The smell was none other than b*tch.

For reference, please understand that there are various types of b*tches. According to the most educated DC 3rd grader on Earth, I am a combination of #2, #30, #39, #41, #88, and most definitely #16. I suggest you open this and print out the list, as it is vital to the story.

After smelling b*tch, I see my group of guy friends (refer to Dick to recall my circumstance as the lone vag this night) had began a quarrel with two girls in line in front of them. Nothing can describe these girls better than b*tch #18. Seeing this opportunity for advanced messing with B*tches, I approached this pizza line pretending to be a lone bystander.

I approached B*tch A, who was the shorter (#89), not cute one with nappy blond hair and a voice that makes you wish she was Hellen Keller. I maneuvered my way into the line by just simply taking their side and pretending to stick up for them. I was instant BFF.

"What did they say to you!?"
"ThEy CaLlEd Us SlUtS!"
"oMG! Criminals! Why on Earth would they do that! Why did you call them SlUtS!?! JeRks!"

An eruption of laughter occurred after the guys clarified that these b*tches #18 started this verbal fight by calling my friend, who we shall call Ush-Yo (the Puerto Rican version of Ne-Yo and Usher), and Bock's roommate, Big Omelet Boy (BOB) -- he had a large omelet the following morning, but like, in all seriousness, this was a large omelet, like something out of a children's book or something the Big Friendly Giant would eat --Mario and Luigi. They also instigated with poor Vinny, the lone wolf in line just waiting for some pizza who happens to own some shops in Tyson's ($$$$$). In response to the Italian references, Ush-Yo called the B*tches sluts or whores or something along the lines that they are trifling.

There is just something about calling girls sluts that gets them going. Of course, they had to defend themselves, but I was not there to see it happen. I walked in on this trying to resolve it. As it turns out, I was able to wedge myself peacefully between the males and the females, as the females ended up being b*tch #5's and b*tch #6's. It was at this time I realize I had more in common with B*tch A than I ever imagined. She was ALSO a b*tch #30. Her hair was wack. I think she tried to do the beachy, natural look for that night, but epically failed as it had turned into an eagle's nest ready for eggs. Being on my honor code for the females, I tried to fix a few of the stray hairs flying around making her look like a beat mess. Out of nowhere, B*tch B (#89, taller than me by like 3 inches, brown hair, very skinny, needed to eat, prettier than the nappy head) slaps my hand away.

"OHNOUHHUHNOOO DON'T DO THAT TO MY SISTER OH NO! DON'T TOUCH HER! LKJ:FS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EIYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEE CAW CAW SATAN"

Err, ok. I was a little taken aback. I think it was at this time I became a #21 b*tch.

"Her hair needs fixing. It's nappy."

The B*tches began consoling each other because they think they are being assaulted. It was at this time one called me a b*tch, and we started a verbal brawl. The two B*tches were then told to leave by Goody's workers. On their way out, they had to pass through the group of us. B*tch A butt attacked me, shoving me into BOB, who then fell into the table behind him. I think I called her a b*tch at this point, BOB restrained me, and JFed did not stand for this.

"BYE SNOOKI"

Guess what's worse than being called a slut? I mean, Snooki is a great girl. Anyone would be lucky to be in the same genre of human being as her. Were they not the ones who started with the Italian references?

Suddenly, the B*tches start bawling.

"AHHHH We JuSt WaNtEd PiZZaaaaaaaaa AHHHh WAHHH WAHHHH PIZZA SOBBING TEARS"

Shut up. You could have gotten your pizza in peace. It was your bad life decisions that led you here.

So everyone (not the B*tches) gets their food, and heads outside. I was praying they were still out there. We were standing outside doing something that seems plausible while intoxicated, and we realized, there the B*tches were- standing on the street corner, looking all b*tch #11's , being consoled by some guys, who we assumed were taking a predatory advantage on the opportunity of a lifetime- crying hooker-ish girls outside a pizza place.

We were laughing at all this, and I hear B*tch A mention something about me being a b*tch, and I'm like whatevs. Then, one of the predators came up to the ONLY black guy in our group, BOB's friend, and confronted him.

"I hear you started something with those girls over there."

This was very funny. BOB's friend had no contribution in the fight. He laid in the cut, observing it all as it went down, rather than participating. The only reason one would assume he partook in such activities is because he is black.

BOB called the predator out for this. The predator was most definitely was a b*tch #86. The predator vehemently denied anything racist, and turned towards the rest of the guys to confront them. Helloooooooo you are surrounded by like 8 dudes. N-word please.

After further explanation of the B*tches, the pedator understood. He tried to be the cool guy just "caught in the middle of it all".

All the while this is going on, I grabbed JFed's iPhone and took two pictures. The first picture was an accurate representation of the two:

 

Please note the stank.

The second picture was of the hand of the body guard, protecting these poor B*tches from the paparazzi (me):

I don't exactly know what happened after all this. I do remember PoPo pulling up to the side of us in his car, yelling at us to get in, but we were all having too much fun with these horrible B*tches, that we dared not leave just yet. He sped off in a fit of Asian rage.

Eventually, JFed, Bock, and I walked home. It was around the distance to Mecca, but no big deal, Bock met his soulmate named Shanaed. When I first heard this name, I instantly thought of a Maenad, the perfect mythological creature for Bock. This is how Wikipedia defines a Maenad:

 "Their name literally translates as "raving ones". Often the maenads were portrayed as inspired by Dionysus into a state of ecstatic frenzy, through a combination of dancing and drunken intoxication. In this state, they would lose all self-control, begin shouting excitedly, engage in uncontrolled sexual behavior, and ritualistically hunt down and tear animals (and sometimes men and children) to pieces, devouring the raw flesh."


I mean, I think I hit the nail on the head with this one. Match made in heaven.

The End.

Ode To Richard

Ode to Richard:

"Well first off, Dick, you're a Vagina. A scared, unkempt, little pussy. You clearly changed your name from Richard to Dick just so people would find you more humorous and daring. Well, Dick, it seems that the world doesn't find you humorous OR daring, but instead just agrees with you. You're a dick, Dick. You march around on your little dick-Dick legs meeting girls and trying to impress them with your razor's-edge-wit and good graces...that is until, in this case, you got the Razor's edge. The better edge. The sharper edge. The edge that comes with me as back up. Chances are that you're still a virgin--a lonely one--and therefore lash out at the so-called sluts...the sluts that STILL won't sleep with you, or touch your dick, Dick. Putting a dick in your mouth doesn't make you a slut or take away your virginity, Dick. Dumbass dick. Maybe you should just hire one of these sluts to sit on your dick, Dick, so you aren't such a DICK. You don't recognize beauty or talent when it tap dances to Rachmaninov on your ignorant, tiny, wrinkled, little dick, Dick. Your insecurities over your failing self image have festered for so long that you have been reduced to basic, elementary attacks on those whom you find superior to you in every way. Dick. Apologies that the only woman you find attractive, Dick, is your mother; those were probably the last tits you ever touched...let's be real here shall we, dick? Dick? 

So, Dick, shall we play nice from now? Try thinking about keeping your dick in your pants, Dick, and maybe one of these sluts will actually be your friend one day and not suffer from your lashing out against your mother. Let's go from there and see what happens, dick."

-Sassy

This past Saturday, I was at Clarendon Grill with my crew. My crew happened to be all male. Great chances for meeting men when surrounded by sausage. Luckily, three srat sisters found me. Unluckily, I was alone when I stumbled upon my toolbag Facebook stalker. To explain, I will need to back track to about a year ago:

I was in DC. I was with Julie at a bar with a group of friends we had just met through kickball. They all went to the same college, so no Techies were around to talk about the football game we had that day. All of a sudden, I see a dude in a Virginia Tech T-shirt. At this time, Julie was off flirting elsewhere. I decided to approach this Tech dude. I went up to him and asked if he saw the game. His face instantly lit up because, I guess, well, he thought I was going to bang him? Right... So he was all excited, but fortunately for me, he was in line for the toilet and it was his turn to enter the bathroom. Whew, I thought. Whew. I was going to be able to get out of this scot free. Urgently, he asked for my full name. He whipped out his BlackBerry and Facebooked me on the spot. Instant red flag. 

I regretfully accepted his friend request. His name is Rich Carpenter. Over the past year, I've received no less than 340 Facebook messages from him asking me to meet up. Asking me to come over. Telling me I am sexy. He even gave me a nickname like we were best pals: Ra-Zah.

At first, I answered his inital questions of where I worked, where I hang out, etc... After the first 3 messages though, I stopped responding. He gave me his number multiple times, to which I did not reciprocate. He has "Liked" multiple pictures, statues, and wall posts, and tried (emphasis on tried, as he failed when I did not respond) Facebook chatted me numerous times. At one point, he changed his Facebook name to "Dick Gustafson". How fitting.

Sassy ended up hating Dick after Sassy left a Glo-Zell  video on my wall. The douchebag commented "Is this Sassy's girlfriend?" Excuse me? Do you know Sassy? Are you on friendship terms in order to address him by name and taunt him? No sir. That is my job.

One Sunday morning, I was on Facebook. I had a notification that he "Liked" and commented on one of my pictures. This picture was of Julie and myself. Her large breasts were very cleavaged. His comment was "Boobies". At the very same moment, I received a Facebook chat from him "You are so hot" "You are so sexy". What exactly do girls say to this?

"You are so hot"

"Omg baby you too" (even though you have one picture tagged of you, it's clearly the best one you have taken in your lifetime, it's cropped and probably stretched, so I really don't know what you look like)

"Come over" 

"Ok... what size are you? Magnum, super magnum, or golden penis magnum?"

"Oh baby we don't need that... I heart pulling out"

"MMMmmmk. I'll be over soon. I'm going to 7/11, do you want a toquito?"

"Yeah get me dat jalapeno and pepper jack one"

"Ok. I'm getting a slushie"

"Do they have Crystal Light?"

"I can check"

"Cool. I'll see you soon!"

"Omg yes! I can't wait to bang you. What do you look like again?"

"I have a weird smile that reminds people of a child molester"

"Great! I'll be there soon :)"

So back to the story, this past Saturday, I am at Grill. I am wandering, and I hear "Hello Sarah (lastname)". I turned and see Dick. Now, I am surprised I recognized him. I, of course, played dumb because you can't  creepily say "Hello [ Insert First and Last Name]" to someone you have only met once in real life, and expect them to welcome you with open arms. I asked if I knew him. The fact that I "did not know" Dick, wounded Dick. Dick was pissed. "You can leave now" Oh no you didn't, Dick. I demanded Dick tell me how he knew me. I mean, I knew who Dick was, but I would obey his servant orders. 

Dick explained to me, in a very flippant manner, that he was "the guy in the Virginia Tech shirt about a year ago who you approached". The way Dick said "who you approached" made it seem like I did indeed want to bang him. Immediately, I faked enthusiasm for seeing him again. Out of nowhere it seemed, Dick went on a tirade about how "girls your age don't know what they are looking for." Ohhhh mannnnnn. I WISHED I had Sassy with me for this conversation:

"Girls my age? What age is that?"

"21-26"

"Well what are we supposed to be looking for?"

"All girls right out of college like you, are sluts. On average, they sleep with 20-30 guys a year because they don't want anything serious."

"Excuse me? You do not know me. You cannot make a brash assumption that I am a slut because you have had bad experiences with girls. How old are you??"

"28"

"Well WHY are you talking to 22 year olds anyways?! What are you looking for when you meet a girl at a bar, a wife?!"

"No, you don't understand. You can go now."

I do not know much of what I said after this. I blew up at him, and tried to make my point. I was very, very civil considering the fact that he was ignorant. To make matters worse, the whole time, he was smiling. Dick's smile is god awful. Visualize this:

Our conversation fizzled after Dick called me a liar and whore. I am pretty sure I wished him luck in life and walked away. I saw him later on in a line for another bar. He smiled and waved condescendingly. 

This was NOT the end of our quarrel. The day after, I uploaded the following picture:

"Jon hit me"

When PoPo gets drunk, he hits me. No biggie. I uploaded this evidence, and within 20 minutes, Dick commented.

"Wow PoPo got you good, but I bet you deserved it Ra-zah ;)"

What the eff. 

Didn't we have an unspoken mutual agreement last night that you were never to contact me again?  I THOUGHT I had blocked him from all of my Facebook at this point. I then checked his profile, and his status upped his douche-baggery by 10 points: "number of hot exs i saw in Arlington last night: three"

Now, I am neither hot, nor an ex of this microphallus, but I do know I am one of this "three" Dick speaks of. 

I asked Sassy comment back to Dick. The first comment Sassy posted was something about me being a liar and that I am actually a slut that I deny myself to be (blatant sarcasm). This made it very apparent I had told Sassy about Dick and my conversation the night before. I instantly deleted it. Sassy then commented again with a brilliant line of "get some extenze, Dick, your jokes keep comin up short". I liked this, and kept it.

Dick didn't like this attack.

10 minutes later, I received a message in my inbox with a subject title of "So predictable":

August 1 at 6:22pm

nice slap tat... ironic that came moments our convo. who woulda thought? dumbass slut.

lastly, you arent very attractive and you badly need to lose weight. peace

I would like to point out Dick, that your grammar is poor. "Ironic that came moment our convo"? I do not understand you, Dick. If I were to attack me in writing, I would proofread and use proper punctuation, capitalizing the first letters of my sentences and inserting apostrophes in my conjunctions. Also, I do not know what does "nice slap tat" means. It is a slap, and it is quite nice resembling the Wilson ball from Castaway and everything, but it is not a tattoo. And please, regarding my attractiveness and weight, do not insult me by cutting to the soul of all women. I see myself in the mirror everyday, Dick. I know what I am, which is neither unattractive nor corpulent. If you really wanted to hurt me Dick, criticize my wit and humor. Call me boring. If you called me a poor writer, I would instantly take up a self destructive habit of cutting or meth. I would turn into Lindsey Lohan, getting really skinny and having people talk about how cute I was "before". Man Dick, I wish I could give you a lesson on written abuse. You could have really scarred me there, Dick. And so, to give you a lesson on a well thought out, poetic justice, Sassy has written you an example of something you could maybe use in the future to victimize women:

Ode to Richard:

Well first off, Dick, you're a Vagina. A scared, unkempt, little pussy. You clearly changed your name from Richard to Dick just so people would find you more humorous and daring. Well, Dick, it seems that the world doesn't find you humorous OR daring, but instead just agrees with you. You're a dick, Dick. You march around on your little dick-Dick legs meeting girls and trying to impress them with your razor's-edge-wit and good graces...that is until, in this case, you got the Razor's edge. The better edge. The sharper edge. The edge that comes with me as back up. Chances are that you're still a virgin--a lonely one--and therefore lash out at the so-called sluts...the sluts that STILL won't sleep with you, or touch your dick, Dick. Putting a dick in your mouth doesn't make you a slut or take away your virginity, Dick. Dumbass dick. Maybe you should just hire one of these sluts to sit on your dick, Dick, so you aren't such a DICK. You don't recognize beauty or talent when it tap dances to Rachmaninov on your ignorant, tiny, wrinkled, little dick, Dick. Your insecurities over your failing self image have festered for so long that you have been reduced to basic, elementary attacks on those whom you find superior to you in every way. Dick. Apologies that the only woman you find attractive, Dick, is your mother; those were probably the last tits you ever touched...let's be real here shall we, dick? Dick?

So, Dick, shall we play nice from now? Try thinking about keeping your dick in your pants, Dick, and maybe one of these sluts will actually be your friend one day and not suffer from your lashing out against your mother. Let's go from there and see what happens, Dick.

Live long and prosper, Dick.