Tag Archives: bitches

on friendship: shitty, mediocre, or exemplary?

TALKING SHITSome hateful bitches are talking smack about you.  A shitty friend adds to the gossip.  A mediocre friend remains sheepishly silent.  An exemplary friend ferociously defends you. CLUELESS FALLYou trip and fall flat on your ass in front of a crowd of people.  A shitty friend laughs.  A mediocre friend backs away fearing contamination by third-party embarrassment.  An exemplary friend scoops you up, asks if you are alright, and loudly proclaims “nothing to see here” as she escorts you to the bar for a recovery drink.JENNY MCCARTHY ENGAGEDYou get engaged and share the news.  A shitty friend informs you she slept with your fiancé a few years ago.  A mediocre friend offers a bland congratulations.  An exemplary friend says “I’m so happy for you” and really means it.  DADYour Dad dies.  A shitty friends sends you a sympathetic text.  A mediocre friend sends flowers.  An exemplary friend sends weed. BAG OF WEED

 

Demeter Clarc Manners Moment: Don’t Post About Your Friends Without Permission

BACKSTABBERWow.  I really shit the bed you guys.  A couple of weeks ago, I threw up a post willy nilly that hurt my friend’s feelings.  I’m concerned I’ve done irreparable damage to the relationship.  I’m heartsick at the thought because I truly love, value, respect, and honor this person.  This woman is generous, kind, intelligent, caring, and fun, so I’m a real asshole for hurting her feelings.DON'T BE MADOver dinner with other friends, one of my nearest and dearest leveled that she thought is was definitely off-side that I hadn’t given our other friend a head’s up on the post.  Duly Noted.  In fairness, if someone put me on blast on the internet, I would be IRATE.  Hypocrisy is just another of my more charming qualities.A TRUE FRIENDMy friend is super pissed and she has every right to be.  I have apologized in writing because she understandably isn’t interested in talking to me right now.  I hope she gives me the opportunity to make amends in person.  I make really good amends.FORGIVE METo this dear and cherished friend:  I apologize.  I was wrong.  I mishandled the situation.  My intention was never to hurt you, and I feel terribly that I did through my own thoughtlessness.  I hope you will forgive me because you are like a sister.I'M SORRYIf it makes you feel better you can call me a bitch on Facebook.  I deserve it.CALL ME A BITCH

I don’t want to be friends…

TUPPERWARE PARTY…with opportunists who only act like they are my friend to sell me something like Arbonne or Landmark.  I thought you were reaching out to form a relationship, but instead you just want my coin.  I know the economy is bad, but must there always be a pecuniary interest?  Sheesh.

DUCK DOLLAR…with self-centered assholes who only talk about themselves, think about themselves, and are only really interested in themselves. ME ME ME

…with users who keep me around to make themselves feel better.MEAN GIRLS

…with needy bitches.

HIGH MAINTENACE

…with my exes.  How can you be friends with someone who broke your heart?LOVE IS

…with trollops who would sleep with my man if given the chance.

JORDAN AND RAYANNE

 

Demeter Clarc Manners Moment: don’t stand so close to me.

STANDING IN LINELately, a number of pushy women have been breathing down my neck.  I am a person who needs a minimum of a 24″ buffer between my body and anybody else.  A couple of weeks ago at the airport, I was walking through security.  The huffy woman behind me kept pushing me with her bag.  One bump is an accident.  Two bumps gets an eyeroll.  Three bumps deserves an audible exhale.  Bump me again and your ass is going to get bumped back (lest I remind you of the 2012 Music Midtown Beatdown.)  HAIR PULLToday at the post office this older woman was literally breathing down my neck.  I use “literally” correctly and appropriately here as I could feel the bitch’s hot breath draping my shoulders like a death shroud.   Does standing thisclose make these huffy muffies feel like they are going to get through the line any sooner?  LADY IN THE FRONT WILL CUT YOUI naturally can’t help but antagonize these self-important cows by doubling the distance between myself and the person in front of me just to drive home the point.  Stop tailgaiting bitch.  This ain’t a BBQ.CREEPY SMILE

4 for Friday

YOGA TIMES SQUAREHappy Solstice!  Today we welcome summer.  I will complete 108 sun salutations to initiate in the new season.  The practice helps me shed old energy and embrace the future.  If my tan so far is any indication, this summer is going to be the best summer ever.  KIM AND KANYENo those bitches didn’t name that baby North West.  For fucksake. KIM AND KANYE MET BALL

PAULA DEEN LOVES BLACK PEOPLEIn this week’s non-bombshell news, is anyone actually surprised that Paula Deen is a racist?  OPRAH KNOWS ABOUT PAULA DEENFor today’s overreaching bossy advice I command you go outside and smile at a stranger.  Okay, fine, sneer if you want to, but go outside.  REESE BITCHFACE

3 for Friday

LUO AND NAOMIIs there anyone on Earth more sublime than Naomi CampbellLuo Zilin, who you surely remember from Naomi’s Top Model knock-off The Face, learned the hard way this week that you do not fuck with Miss Campbell.  After Luo was caught frolicking in Ibiza with Campbell’s ex Vlad Doronin, Naomi blacklisted that ungrateful bitch from the fashion world.  I wish Naomi Campbell offered an apprenticeship in bitchery.  I too would like to learn how to shank bitches at such an elite and international level.  LUO AND VLADGIRL CODE

Seen Girl CodeMTV has finally rolled out something worth watching.  Even though Girl Code is paced for the attention span of the modern twelve year old, many of the insights and practical advice transcend age.  The show is light, funny, occasionally informative, and provides an important platform for young female comics.  Jessimae Peluso will be a star.  JESSIMAE PELUSOVICKI AND GRETCHEN BAD WORKWatching the RHOC has become an exercise in the grotesque.  Need we even discuss Vicki’s face?  I guess I do.  Instead of the chin implant she should have had her double chin removed and her neck tightened.  Gretchen totally fucked up her once lovely face with those lip injections.  This show would be so much more interesting if Bravo dropped all these mutilated bitches and just focused on Lydia’s awesome fairy-dusting stoner mom Judy.JUDY DOOBIE

5 signs it’s O-V-E-R

You haven’t fucked in months.He abandons you.She criticizes more than kisses.Your futures don’t include each other.You would rather be alone.

Gurl, lemme tell you about Midtown

Hey ya’ll, I hope you had a fantastic weekend.  I took a little trip to Atlanta this weekend for Music Midtown, a huge music festival held in Piedmont Park.  Who played?  All these mutherfuckers…..Before entering the show, we decided to have lunch at The Flying Biscuit, a southern chain know for it’s vegetarian-friendly options.  After a 20 minute wait, we were shown to our table.  I ordered tofu scramble.  It arrived with an infection of tiny shards of turkey bacon.  I asked my waiter, “is this meat?”  I couldn’t exactly tell what the small pink strips were.  He scooped up my plate and not long after the manager came over to our table.  She slid down the wall behind her into a deferential squat and said “Words cannot describe how appalled I am that errant pieces of turkey bacon somehow ended up in your tofu scramble.  I understand that when you adopt a commitment to a certain lifestyle, that the commitment is important.  Your lunch is on the house.  Is there anything else I can get you.”  Take note, mistakes happen, but it is the way these mistakes are addressed that matters.  The manager handled the situation with the utmost of professionalism.  She acknowledged the error, expressed an understanding of why a vegetarian would be appalled at discovering turkey bacon in a tofu scramble, and immediately rectified the situation.  This scenario could have resulted in a death-blowing Yelp review, but instead I must take time to create a pocket of praise for the Flying Biscuit and their top notch manager.  After our free lunch, we walked over to the park.  Attendees covered the shady hills blanket to blanket by the time we arrived.  We headed down to the sunny field and sat for a bit of Adam Ant.  Working an OG Captain Jack Sparrow look, Adam played a decent, if expected, set to a half-interested crowd.  After Ant, we shuffled over to the mainstage for LudacrisWho hates crowd participation?  I do!  Ludacris spent most of the set trying to coax his “true fans” (approximately 10%, though he erroneously believed that percentage to be much, much, higher) to sing along with his catalog of hits and flip the bird at one another.  Most absurd?  He tried to pretend that the show was spontaneous and that he was just pulling tracks out of his hat.  To maintain that illusion, he probably shouldn’t have presented prepared background visuals and lighting to accompany his supposedly unplanned set.  Don’t insult us Luda.  To add further insult, three-quarters of the way into the set his DJ played Smells Like Teen Spirit.  Yup, you absolutely read that shit correctly.  Mutherfucking Nirvana.  It was as if he and his people looked at each other and said, “What do white people like?”  The completely irrelevant foray into mid 90’s grunge felt absolutely pandering and gross.  Much like Snoop and Dre at Coachella, I felt intense 3rd person embarrassment and shame for the washed-up rapper. Next came Florence + the Machine, a band that has impressed me live in the past.  Florence flubbed her intro; it was not noticeable to the general crowd, but she must have referenced the mistake at least 4 times in the 75 minute set.  It wasn’t a big deal, but she belabored it to the point of annoyance, comparing the experience to arriving at school naked.  An absolute PLAZA QUEEN set up next to us with his cheesy Bob Marley backpack and bracelets and proceeded to sing every single song at the top of his lungs completely off-key.  It was so loud, disruptive, and pitchy that I unapologetically and continuously laughed out loud through the Coachella-similar set.  He was so enthusiastic, I couldn’t bring myself to remind him that it was not his American Idol audition.  It wasn’t just that his singing was bad, it was also the intensity and mood he was bringing to it – like he was at a Slayer show or something.  At one point the kid threw up the sign of the beast – AT A FUCKING FLORENCE + THE MACHINE SHOW!  Blanche, you’ve been dethroned; there is a new PLAZA QUEEN clawing at your crown, and he has a soundtrack child!We secured such a favorable position for Florence at the mainstage, we couldn’t bring ourselves to give up our spots to navigate across the crowded field to hear GirltalkGirltalk is super fun live, but we remained focused on the reason we came – Pearl Jam.  When Florence finished, and the crowd began to shift, we gained another 30 feet towards the stage.One major difference between Midtown and Coachella is that Coachella has way more geographical space with the polo grounds and all.  By the end of the night Piedmont Park was asses to elbows everywhere we looked in every direction as far as the eye could see.  I know Leah Love, your greatest fear right?  The uncontrollable mass crowd could easily become a riot or stampede at any moment and there isn’t shit law enforcement, Jesus, or Eddie Vedder can do to stop it.The dense crowd had more than its fair share of rude pushy assholes.  Or maybe I was just in a mood, I’m not sure.  I made some friends and I made some enemies.  So we’re all standing around waiting for 60 minutes for PJ to start.  The natives are getting restless.  We’re staring at an empty stage.  The crowd thickens and two girls roll up.  Late twenties-early thirties, taller, one blonde with tats, the other dark brown overgrown frizzy curls.  Brown-haired girl has shorts on and some sort of white doily top.  At first all is chill.  We’re all respecting each other’s personal space.  But soon brown-haired girl gets a little sloppy, a little loud, a little big.  And by big I mean her big ass is continuing to bump into me.  In a crowd like this, people bump into each other, no big deal, I blew it off.  After the third or fourth relatively firm contact, I gently guided her back to her spot and sweetly said “Mama I’m going to move you back over where you were.”  All is calm.  Girl is moved.  The waiting continues.  Her ass hit me again and this time in a wedge-in-front type of manner.  Again, I say “could you please stop hitting me?” a little firmer this time.  I stood my ground.  This is the part where half of you will lose respect for me and the other will throw a fist in the air.  Let me be perfectly clear: I’m not proud of what I’m about to confess.  I overhear the girl saying to her blonde tatted friend I’m just going to stick my ass into this girl (meaning me obviously).  The audacity!  I was appalled.  Anger surged through my body like steroids.  So against all logic and common decency that’s when I hip checked the girl – hard.  When she turned around surprised I sarcastically said excuse me in my best bitchy.   She responded by saying she knew it wasn’t an accident.  To which I respond, “You wanna tussle in this crowd?”  She had a beer can in one hand and began to raise her other hand.  I doubt seriously she was going to hit me, but this is where I would claim self-defense in a court of law.  I reached up and I snatched a handful of hair and took the bitch down.  Right there in front of everybody, to her knees, one hand.  I really wasn’t trying to hurt her.  If I were trying to hurt her I very easily could have taken out her front two teeth with my unicorn ring which I always wear to rock shows just for this very reason.  Blonde friend freaked and started to go for a handful of my hair when my brave companion stepped in and pushed everyone apart.  I threw up the fist, unicorn gleaming and said next time it’ll be this. (My very best “you wanna knuckle sandwich?”)  That’s when the verbal bitch slap began.  Blonde tatty kept shrieking “why?, why?, why?!” over and over again.  “Why do you have to get ghetto?” (Which I found fucking hilarious, because really how else can you be in a fight but ghetto?).  I said, “I asked you twice to stop touching me.  You continued to stick your fat ass in my face, and I will not continue to be assaulted by you for the rest of the night.”  Then brown-haired girl says, “My boyfriend loves my fat ass.”  And I said, “I bet he does when he’s got you bent over fucking you up the ass and you’re screaming and you love it.  I know your kind.  (insert slow head to toe bitch scan) Yeah, I know your kind.  I know your kind. (3X slow for effect) You are trash.” 

They then slinked away in humiliated defeat and I became the most celebrated figure in a 50 person radius with everybody wanting to know if I was indeed the girl in the fight.  A drunk Joel Roganesque dude kept coming up to me and saying over and over again “You won that, you so won that!”  If only I could win my dignity back.  Look it wasn’t ladylike, smart, mature, or classy, but in the immortal word Steven Hyde, Where Zen ends ass-kicking begins. If you are still reading, when those two bitches left we had a great time.  As an added bonus, the fight cleared quite a bit of space so we had a little breathing room.  Plus, we made friends with everyone around us because 1) they wanted to know the fight gossip firsthand, and 2) they wanted to stay on the good side of the unstable hair-pulling psycho girl.  Pearl Jam absolutely rocked our asses off with a killer set list including:  Rearview Mirror, Crazy Mary, + the obligatory Black, Alive, Elderly Woman, Nothingman, and Betterman

The show was fantastic, and almost worth all the bullshit.

 

Demeter Clarc Manners Moment: Leah Love Deserves an RSVP Dammit.

Loyal and lovely reader Leah Love wrote me with a request for a Demeter Clarc Manners Moment on RSVP etiquette.  Thanks so much for reading and writing to me Leah.  I really appreciate your kind words and support.  Here is an excerpt of LL’s letter.

I would love to see a post on the importance of RSVPing. I’m trying to affect change and influence behavior with a grassroots RSVP etiquette movement. As a person who throws my fair share of parties, nothing annoys me more than people not RSVPing. It’s so fucking rude, and it serves a real and important purpose: so the host knows how to properly provide food and drinks for her guests.  It seems like these days, with the casual nature of connecting caused by technology, that manners have fallen by the wayside.

Well said Mizz Love, well said.  Let’s be honest about the politics of the RSVP.  It goes without saying that anything involving a written, posted invitation requires a response.  Wedding invitations and baby showers, replies are 100% required for events of this nature.  Proper etiquette gets murkier the more casual the gathering.  This is a shitty thing to admit, but sometimes folks wait to reply hoping a better social opportunity comes along.  Only the cruel and honest truth delivered here at DC.As the host, you absolutely must make your expectations clear.  If you want an RSVP, you must unequivocally state in the invitation that you expect the courtesy of an RSVP and when you expect it.  If it is really important, add a “bitches” to the end.  RSVP bitches, or better yet “Don’t make me hunt down your RSVP you rude-ass bitches.”  See why I don’t throw many parties?I want to propose a different angle that you may not want to hear Leah, and please know I say this with Love.  Consider letting go of the need to know how many people will arrive.  Regardless of the number of confirmed RSVPs, guest attendance always fluctuates at the last minute.  Hosting a sit down dinner?  Fine, be rigid about a response.  Casual cocktails?  Why not just see who shows up?   I seriously doubt you have ever really run out of food or drink.  Reflect upon whether this is more about wanting to maintain control or about an irrational anxiety that no one will show up to your party.  Not to worry, of course they will come, because you are obviously social lava.  A relaxed host is a happy host.  Focus on your fun.