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.

How Do I Hate Thee? Let Me Count The Tequila Shots

Wow. I haven't bitched in three weeks. That's a huge record for me. It's not that I haven't had anything about which to bitch, I just didn't feel like bitching to you. Bitches are fickle that way. Well, hold on to your margaritas 'cause a major bitch storm is a-brewing.

I have a friend, although maybe not anymore after this, who is so ecstatically freakin' happy because she's getting married. She's texting me 35 times a day with wedding updates. She expects me to not only pay for my $200 dress that I'll never wear again, but also my daughter's $200 dress that she'll never wear again. She wants me to pay God knows how many thousands of dollars for the pleasure of attending her destination wedding. And all of this crap would be fine with me (okay, I'd still bitch about it) if her "fiance" wasn't a complete jerk. I apologize for offending all the regular, run-of-the-mill jerks out there. This asshole is a fucking super jerk.

How do I hate this mother fucker? Let me count the ways:

1. he refuses to stop smoking weed around their three children. Preventing his kids from getting contact highs isn't on his list of priorities.

2. he allows his family and his friends to disrespect the mother of his children cum fiancee. And they treat his children like they're not part of the family.

3. a few years ago, he had an "accident" at work where he hit his head and lost his memory (yeah, right). when he woke up, there were two women at his bedside whom he didn't remember: my friend and some other bitch who also claimed to be his girlfriend. She was a fat, ugly bitch, too, but I digress.

4. after his "head trauma" his fat girlfriend moved him back to the city where his family lives. A city, mind you, that's in a whole different state than where my friend and her children live. Nobody bothered to even tell my friend and her kids where he was. She was worried sick and her kids were wondering what the hell happened to their dad. She only found out after his family got sick of her calling and finally answered the phone.

5. she moved to this new state to be with him while he recovered. she had no friends, no family, and as previously stated, his family disrespected her every chance they got. Meanwhile, he maintained that he never had a relationship with Fat Bitch, she was just a co-worker who had the hots for him.

6. when he got his memory back (very slowly and painfully), he applied for Social Security Disability and was approved. Since he didn't really have a need to work now, four children be damned (yes, there's a 4th child from a previous marriage), he decided to get a job at a car wash. He has no plans to find other, more stable employment.

7. oh, did i mention that while he was still in the hospital for his head injury, although he didn't remember who my friend was, he did remember who I was. So he has these two strangers (both his girlfriends) sitting on either side of his hospital bed and he says to me, "Oh, I remember you! We came to your surprise birthday party, right?" Right.
8. while at his mother's house one day, my friend discovered a family picture that they all had taken at his aunt's birthday party. My friend and her children hadn't been invited to this party, btw. In the picture were him, his mother, his sister, his step-father, his sister's children...and, you guessed it, Fat Bitch.
9. he disappears for days at a time and she can't get in touch with him. She'll call me and say, "I haven't heard from him in three days." I wonder where he could be? Riding a fat bitch, maybe?
10. Fat Bitch comes to their state regularly to visit his family...but not him. She's just so frickin' close with his sister, you know.
11. this is by far the worst one, so I'm going to give it the emphasis it deserves by typing it in all caps: HE ASKED FAT BITCH IF ANYTHING HAPPENED TO MY FRIEND, WOULD SHE HELP HIM RAISE HIS KIDS. FAT BITCH SAID NO. SHORTLY AFTERWARD (LIKE HOURS) HE AND MY FRIEND WERE ENGAGED. There are so many things wrong with this one that if I start listing them, we'd be here all frickin' day

I know you're thinking I should warn her or talk to her or hit her over the head with a fucking bong and a nickel bag, but I refuse. For the past decade, I have been pointing out red flags to her. GOD has been pointing out red flags to her. I have been angry, confrontational, and hostile on her behalf. I have consoled her and reassured her and I've done the best job I could of loving her. But the madness has to end some fucking where. I'm sick of being a bitch for her. It's her turn now. Her turn to defend her own damn-near-middle-aged self.

There is nothing, not one goddamn thing that I could tell her that she doesn't already know. I have said all the fuck I could possibly say. Everyone has their bullshit limit and I guess she hasn't reached hers yet. So I will paint a smile on my face, pay $400 for single-use dresses, and resist the urge to cause him further head trauma while I watch her make what could be the biggest mistake of her life.

It's sad, though, because she's convinced herself that she is actually happy. You should hear her go on and on about her newfound happiness. It breaks my heart. Why do people think that getting married will effect positive change in a relationship that is hanging on by a thread? I've been married for 16 years. I was a bitch when my husband met me 18 years ago and, surprise!, I'm still a bitch. My husband was a hothead when I met him, and he's still a hothead. Even when people do change, it's usually not that fucking drastic.

If he smokes pot in front of your (his!) children before you get married, he'll do it afterward. If you have to beg him to buy something his child needs before you get married, you'll be begging afterward. If you have to work full-time to pay your bills, take care of your kids, AND pay for an elaborate wedding beforehand, you'll be all alone on a Saturday night wondering where your husband is and why you haven't heard from him in three days. Here's a hint: he won't be washing cars.

If you're reading this, dear friend, I know you're angry at me right now. You probably think I have betrayed you. But have I betrayed you or have you betrayed yourself? Have you traded in your right to a happy life for a chance to just not be alone.  Or are you simply blinded by the wedding bells? I hope this doesn't end our friendship, but if it makes you see this whole situation for what it really is, it will have been worth it. I'd rather you not be my friend and stand up for yourself, than to live the rest of your life in unhappiness.

I'm not saying your man should be perfect. The perfect man doesn't exist. I'm just saying that, at the very least, he should respect you. He should care about your feelings. He should put you first.

I'm asking everyone who reads this to have a shot of tequila in remembrance of the 25 year friendship that may come to an end today. I'll be accepting applications for new friends. Bitches with inconsiderate assholes for boyfriends/husbands/girlfriends/wives need not apply.