Showing posts with label my strange addiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my strange addiction. Show all posts

Thursday, February 17, 2011

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.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

It Won't Kill You to be Normal

My ass hurts.

Ouch.

I'm sure all you perverts are coming up with countless scenarios as to why that is. Could I have given hubby an extra special valentine's day present?  Hell no. Exit only, please.

Could I have been taking horseback riding lessons? Yes, but not recently.

My ass hurts because people, in general, are a pain in my ass. Not just my kids and people I know, either. People from all over the world, all walks of life, people of all races and genders and religions and body mass indices get on my fucking nerves.

I know you're asking yourself, because you'd better not dare ask me, is it all those people or is it Mrs. Hyde? It stands to reason that if you have a problem between an entire group of people and one lone person, that the problem would lie with the [delusional] individual. It seems highly unlikely that the issue would be hundreds upon hundreds of other people instead of just the one little old me.

Trust me, it's them.

I even have a special name for them. I call them...dumbasses. Speaking of dumbasses, The Dumbass of the Week for the week ending 2/12 was Gangster Church. Google New Rising Missionary Baptist Church and tell them of the high honor they have achieved for themselves over at ABCM.

The dumbass about whom I'd like to bitch today is Maureen.
Maureen
Maureen is a woman I saw on the TV show My Strange Addiction. Maureen is a fifty-something (don't quote me) woman who is addicted to makeup. More specifically, she is addicted to green eyeliner. Maureen, my friends, is a dumbass.

As I attempted to catch up on  my Tivo'd episodes of this show on TLC, I watched her talk about how severe her addiction to makeup really is. She spends four hours putting on makeup everyday. The only time her face goes unpainted is when she showers in the morning, which means that she sleeps in full fucking makeup. She visited a tattoo artist to see about having green eyeliner permanently tattooed to her eyelids. Green. Eyeliner. I shit you not. Even I can't make this stuff up. The tattoo artist was confused as to why a sane person would want permanent green eyeliner. She said to Maureen, "Bitch, if you wear a blue top one day, you're going to look real fucking stupid with permanent green eyeliner around your tired ass eyes." I'm paraphrasing, of course. Maureen replied, "I wear green eyeliner everyday no matter what color I have on." The tattoo artist was speechless. I wasn't. But then, she couldn't hear me screaming at her through the TV.

Apparently, somebody forgot to tell this bitch that she is FIFTY. Oh, and that she looks like the Poltergeist clown.


I realize that I am eating this voyeuristic crap up like a lard ass at a buffet...or...me...at a buffet, but since when does every dumbass thing that dumbass people like to hitch their dumbass brains to qualify as an addiction?

That bitch is not addicted to makeup.

That bitch is fucking crazy.

She got it in her head that if she never takes that ugly makeup off, she can, somehow, hold on to the way she looked in 1969 when that shit was in style. Question: was it ever in style? And if so, why? Her skin looks so leathery that if she opens her mouth in public, someone might mistake her head for an overnight bag. I'd shut the hell up if I were her.

If she wants to know about addiction, I'll tell her about the time my mother left an eight-year-old me and my four younger siblings at home alone for three days while she satisfied her heroine jones. That's addiction. Or the time the doctor told my father that if he didn't stop drinking, the corrosion of his liver and pancreas was going to kill him, yet my dad kept drinking. That's addiction. Makeup is not a fucking addiction. An obsession, maybe. Making your face look like a handbag, for sure. But an addiction? Fuck no.

Wash your face, get over the idea that the Six Million Dollar Man is going to leave the Bionic Woman for you,  and give your poor skin a rest, lady.

The sad part is, aside from all the damage she's done to her skin, she's actually pretty without all that goop. She looks about ten years younger than she does with it on. She looks normal.

Why the fuck does the whole world hate normal?