The Best of ABCM: Day 3

I apologize for the break in the action. As I am constantly trying to be a better person, I went on a spiritual retreat this past weekend. Spiritual, not religious. Many of you know that I have "issues" with organized religion in general, so I can assure you that no one was waving a Bible in my face, proving to me that I am a wretched, wretched person. I have no problem with God; His "children" are who I generally have problems with.

Now I'm back and feeling all enlightened and what not, so I thought I'd share a post that sought to bring enlightenment to one reader who was finding it difficult to mind her own damn business. Enjoy!

Dear Mrs. Hyde, the ABCM Version (from January 2010)

So...this woman emailed me at thewellfedspirit@gmail.com because she needed a fresh take on a situation at work. Apparently, she was gossiping about a co-worker, only to find out that her assumptions were untrue. She asked for my opinion as to what her next move should be, and as I specified previously, she chose from which of my personalities she wanted to get an answer. She chose both. I just want it to go on record that she chose to do this. Okay? I will not be held responsible for any trauma caused by my response. Let's all keep that in mind as we're wondering what the fuck she's on and how we can get a prescription that strong.

Here, I'll let her tell the story.

Okay, here's the deal. At my job, there was a rumor going around that one of the married women in my department (Mrs. K) was slipping down to the mail room and having noontime quickies with a guy down there. Now, I don't really like Mrs. K--she's the kind of person who is always talking about her new this or that. I can barely afford to put gas in the car. So, like everybody else I started whispering when she disappeared at lunch time.

Last week, I just happened to be in the mail room when she came down with her lunch. I hovered around to see which guy she would disappear with... Well, they didn't disappear. Her and the dude who wears eyeliner (Mr. E) were watching Ellen on a portable tv. 

So, now I feel like an ass, and I'm not sure what to do. Mrs. K notices that people are acting funny around her, but I don't think she knows why. I don't want to point out the obvious (Mr. E doesn't seem to be interested in women) because that's an HR violation. 

What should I do?


Um...yeah...how can I put this delicately? Oh, I know. Mind your fucking business. You said that you feel like an ass? Congratulations, you are. I mean, why in the name of Idris Elba's edible chocolate abs are you so concerned with what Mrs. K is doing on her lunch break? Get a life, boo. Because if you had a life, you'd be too busy to concern yourself with the potential sex lives of co-workers, married or otherwise.

I understand the mind of the hating ass bitch. (In case this is unclear, the hating ass bitch is you) You see a woman who has more material possessions than you. She drives a nice car, wears expensive clothes, owns a nice home, and has a gorgeous dick slinger to boot. She has worked hard for those things and is proud of her accomplishments, so she flaunts them. But that's not what you see. You, with your bad credit, hooptie, broken down slum apartment, and four baby's daddies see not the hard-working woman who has her shit together, but instead a stuck-up, bourgeoisie bitch who throws her wealth in the face of others. You know what? Maybe she is, but that's not the reason you hate her. You hate her because your shit is not together.

Your time can be much better spent if you focused more on achieving your goals and less on being a bitch about hers. You can spread rumors about her. You can put sugar in the gas tank of her BMW Z4 Roadster 2.5i (don't get caught because that's reasonable cause for a beat down). You could give her man the best blow job of his life in the parking lot while he waits for her to clock out from her high-paying job, but that won't change your situation. I get it. Misery loves company. What misery should start loving is effective fucking solutions.

What 's the difference between a happy bitch and a miserable bitch on one hand, and two miserable bitches on the other? Well, that's obvious, but the constant in both situations is that the original miserable bitch is still miserable. Think about it: do you really want her to be unhappy or is what you really want is for you to be happy, too?

Whether or not Mr. E is gay, because that's your implication, is none of your concern. There you go minding someone's business again. You should have no HR issues if you remember this: gay man or adulterous woman...there's no difference when you're slandering people.

To help your jealous ass save face, I submit the following. Go to your co-workers, you know, the ones with whom you've actively engaged in Mrs. K-bashing, and say, nonchalantly, "Girl(s), we were tripping. That bitch is down there watching Ellen with Mr. E, harming no one. I think I'll take this as a sign and mind my own dumb ass business from now on." Then eat your ramen noodles and shut the fuck up.

From now on, concentrate more on 'doing you' than 'fucking her' (over). Jealousy is not attractive. It's an ugly, poor, insecure, low self-esteem having punta.

You didn't know I spoke Spanish, did you?

Please.

I don't watch George Lopez for nothing.

And now for my favorite comments:

Chief aka Dad http://unsoundreasoning.blogspot.com said...

Now ya know I'm not one to complain...but ya might have expanded on "You could give her man the best blow job of his life in the parking lot while he waits for her to clock out from her high-paying job" to include "and anyone else in the parking lot"...and provided a map to the parking lot...just a suggestion :-)

Does anyone know where Dad is? Haven't seen him in awhile. I guess I could just go ask Jumble Mash, but I don't really feel like it, so...

AND this was my first introduction to The Reckmonster

The Reckmonster said...

I just stumbled on your blog and I have one thing to say: You are a bitch-ass fucking genius!!!! I'm pullin' up a chair, parkin' my fat ass right here on your blog and waiting to be entertained some more! LOVE IT HERE!

Anybody who thinks I'm a bitch ass fucking genius is all right with me.

Dear Mrs Hyde: If I'm Not Coming, I'm Going

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Dear Whiny Little Girl

Yesterday I received my first hate mail. Hot damn! I have arrived! You're not anybody in this blorld (blog world) if no one hates you.

I did a post about an episode of My Strange Addiction on TLC where the woman was addicted to makeup. I found it hilarious and, indeed strange. Her daughter did not. I didn't give a shit. I still don't, but because she's just a young bitch girl, I feel the need to address her concerns. Blame it on my maternal instincts.

Here is the comment from IAMASADBITCH with some red-pen corrections from yours truly:



"okay mrs hyde!
apparently you need a job and/ or a new hobby because its (it's) obvious you have neither when you can sit here all day long on the computer & waste your time, write an entire article about my beautiful mother when you don't even no (the word you're looking for is 'know') her! its (it's) apparent your (you're) unhappy with yourself for you to sit there and write all these negative things about other people...my advice grow up, get a life & grow some class (I don't think class can be grown, but you wouldn't know that, having none yourself) you look & sound like a complete dirtbag with your trashy mouth! did you ever think for 2 seconds my mother got paid to do this show?! (Of course she did. I never said she was an idiot, I said she was crazy) & if you ask me, you could definatly (definitely) use just as much make up as shes (she's) wearing (Um, no thanks. Deep lines and wrinkles don't appeal to me)!! misery loves company thats probly (that's probably) why you sit on the computer (I don't actually sit on the computer. That would make it difficult to type) all day long for people to agree with your ridiculous nonscence (nonsense), your (you're) sad & i feel sorry for you!

p.s...whatever you have to say about me or my mother will never phase either one of us considering where (we're) happy with ourselves & who we are.. so have fun sitting your ass online all day long making fun out of other people...&& GOD BLESS u sad bitch (Isn't it blasphemous to say 'God' and 'bitch' in the same sentence? So Christian-like...I really believe she's sending blessings my way)! :) <3"

First, I'd like to point out that when a little, red squiggly line appears under a word you've typed, it means the word is misspelled. 
Because you're a child, I won't give you the standard ass whupping usually reserved for full-fledged adults. That would be like arguing with a toddler which, for all intents and purposes, you are.

Do you know what's really sad, IAMASADBITCH? That you actually believed that your mother could go on television, on a nationally broadcast reality show looking like the poltergeist clown and not have people laugh at her. You're not angry with me, honey. You're angry because you couldn't talk your mom out of doing something so ridiculously moronic, it has people begging for more episodes of Jersey Shore. With all the drug addiction and alcoholism and sex and food addictions out there, your mother is addicted to makeup? How the fuck is that not hilarious? Your mother, I'm sure, was well aware of the reactions people would have as we watched her recount all the effort she goes to just to make sure her makeup has staying power and is super intense at all times. It was a blog post waiting to happen, really. It was a stand-up comedian's dream. I wonder if Jay Leno received hate mail from you as well? No? You've gotta respect Maureen's hustle, though. If I, like she, had no job and spent all my money buying makeup in lieu of paying bills and someone offered me money to have my bullshit aired, I'd have to at least consider it. But also, I'd have enough sense to realize that many, many people would call me on said bullshit.

Calling me a bitch is redundant. I know I'm a bitch and so does everyone who reads my blog. It's in the blog title, in case you had too much makeup in your eyes to read it. This is my blog. I can say what the hell I want about whomever I choose. If you didn't like it, creating a bogus account and attempting to insult my readers and me was the wrong way to go. I guess they didn't teach you at Backwoods High that we live in a free country. Freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom to blog about dumbasses at will.

I can appreciate your need to defend your mother. Even though mine was not the best, I was fiercely protective of her, so I get it. It's also very easy to be a badass in cyberspace. But, sweetie, anyone who puts their business on television for the whole world to see is fair game. Just ask celebrities. Everyone with the ability to type, speak, and/or aim a camera makes it a point to be all in their personal lives because once you let the public into your life, it's no longer personal. Your mother wanted her fifteen minutes of fame. She got it. If that has caused you pain, I suggest you take it up with her.

Clearly, you were so busy being offended and embarrassed that you missed my point. My point was that the term "addiction" is grossly overused. I've been guilty of it myself from time to time. People claim to be addicted to Farmville, to reality TV, to carbs, to sniffing cat shit. I don't really care, but it's not addiction. Nobody is addicted to makeup. Please. I can't even wrap my brain around how stupid an idea that is.

I'm not going to address your insults because they're juvenile and they prove just how young and naive and insecure you are. You can save your mean girl act for someone else because tantrums don't bother me. Why don't you go kick a puppy or something? Don't worry, you won't always be this way. You will grow up (hopefully) and you will be able to discern the productive from the counterproductive. I will address the statement you made about how happy you and your mother are with yourselves. You stated that you would not be phased by anything I said. Ah...you're showing your hand, little girl. I'd say you're quite phased, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation. I don't know anything about you aside from your being a coward, but it is obvious that your mother is not happy with herself. If she were, she would not believe that the only way she can be beautiful is to hide herself behind all that makeup. I hope she didn't pass that lesson on to you. As mothers, we try our best not to pass our insecurities on to our children, but our best efforts are not always enough.

I feel sorry for the both of you and don't think that your barely coherent rant didn't give me something to think about. When you see  people on TV, it's easy to forget that they are real people with real problems. They are set apart from you because you don't know them personally. And if they're doing something that you deem ridiculous, well, then they get what they deserve, right? I never thought of her as a real person until your anonymous comment on my blog. If someone had caused my daughter as much pain as my post has obviously caused you, I would be very upset and probably just as irrational. I did not intend to hurt your feelings, didn't even know you existed, but this is not a hole that was dug by me. You're angry with the wrong woman.

Do yourself a favor and stop trolling the internet looking to see who is bashing your mother. Instead, find her a good shrink. That is, if she actually does believe that she's addicted to makeup, which is probably not the case. It's not going to get any better. I doubt there is someone out there going, "I'm addicted to green eyeliner, too! Let's form a support group!" There is a chance, though, and if I find them, I will definitely send them your way. You can rest assured that neither you nor your mom will get anymore attention from me. Stop trying to stretch your fifteen minutes into a half an hour at my expense.

And please inform your mother that black eyeliner is equally dramatic and far less scary.


Every time I set out to rip someone a new one, I start to do that whole mom thing that pisses me off. Oh, well, I'll bring the bitch back tomorrow. Do you guys have any advice for our young visitor? She may never read it, but somehow, I think she'll be back. Remember when you were nineteen and you cared about what other people were saying about you?

BTW, so sorry about the clowns, my friends. I promise to give you plenty of warning next time.

Dear Mrs. Hyde, the ABCM Version

So...this woman emailed me at thewellfedspirit@gmail.com because she needed a fresh take on a situation at work. Apparently, she was gossiping about a co-worker, only to find out that her assumptions were untrue. She asked for my opinion as to what her next move should be, and as I specified previously, she chose from which of my personalities she wanted to get an answer. She chose both. I just want it to go on record that she chose to do this. Okay? I will not be held responsible for any trauma caused by my response. Let's all keep that in mind as we're wondering what the fuck she's on and how we can get a prescription that strong.

Here, I'll let her tell the story.

Okay, here's the deal. At my job, there was a rumor going around that one of the married women in my department (Mrs. K) was slipping down to the mail room and having noontime quickies with a guy down there. Now, I don't really like Mrs. K--she's the kind of person who is always talking about her new this or that. I can barely afford to put gas in the car. So, like everybody else I started whispering when she disappeared at lunch time.

Last week, I just happened to be in the mail room when she came down with her lunch. I hovered around to see which guy she would disappear with... Well, they didn't disappear. Her and the dude who wears eyeliner (Mr. E) were watching Ellen on a portable tv. 

So, now I feel like an ass, and I'm not sure what to do. Mrs. K notices that people are acting funny around her, but I don't think she knows why. I don't want to point out the obvious (Mr. E doesn't seem to be interested in women) because that's an HR violation. 

What should I do?


Um...yeah...how can I put this delicately? Oh, I know. Mind your fucking business. You said that you feel like an ass? Congratulations, you are. I mean, why in the name of Idris Elba's edible chocolate abs are you so concerned with what Mrs. K is doing on her lunch break? Get a life, boo. Because if you had a life, you'd be too busy to concern yourself with the potential sex lives of co-workers, married or otherwise.

I understand the mind of the hating ass bitch. (In case this is unclear, the hating ass bitch is you) You see a woman who has more material possessions than you. She drives a nice car, wears expensive clothes, owns a nice home, and has a gorgeous dick slinger to boot. She has worked hard for those things and is proud of her accomplishments, so she flaunts them. But that's not what you see. You, with your bad credit, hooptie, broken down slum apartment, and four baby's daddies see not the hard-working woman who has her shit together, but instead a stuck-up, bourgeoisie bitch who throws her wealth in the face of others. You know what? Maybe she is, but that's not the reason you hate her. You hate her because your shit is not together.

Your time can be much better spent if you focused more on achieving your goals and less on being a bitch about hers. You can spread rumors about her. You can put sugar in the gas tank of her BMW Z4 Roadster 2.5i (don't get caught because that's reasonable cause for a beat down). You could give her man the best blow job of his life in the parking lot while he waits for her to clock out from her high-paying job, but that won't change your situation. I get it. Misery loves company. What misery should start loving is effective fucking solutions.

What 's the difference between a happy bitch and a miserable bitch on one hand, and two miserable bitches on the other? Well, that's obvious, but the constant in both situations is that the original miserable bitch is still miserable. Think about it: do you really want her to be unhappy or is what you really want is for you to be happy, too?

Whether or not Mr. E is gay, because that's your implication, is none of your concern. There you go minding someone's business again. You should have no HR issues if you remember this: gay man or adulterous woman...there's no difference when you're slandering people.

To help your jealous ass save face, I submit the following. Go to your co-workers, you know, the ones with whom you've actively engaged in Mrs. K-bashing, and say, nonchalantly, "Girl(s), we were tripping. That bitch is down there watching Ellen with Mr. E, harming no one. I think I'll take this as a sign and mind my own dumb ass business from now on." Then eat your ramen noodles and shut the fuck up.

From now on, concentrate more on 'doing you' than 'fucking her' (over). Jealousy is not attractive. It's an ugly, poor, insecure, low self-esteem having punta.

You didn't know I spoke Spanish, did you?

Please.

I don't watch George Lopez for nothing.

If you want to read the zen bitch's my alter ego's response, go here. And puh-lease, if there's anything I left out, please include it in your comment.