Okay, I know what you’re thinking~ “Oh, Holly Golightly has posted again, she must have gone out with yet another blind Norwegian circus performer!”, but no. Not today. You know I would love to tell you about the creepy podiatrist who was strangely fixated on my dog or that balding, aging round man who sprayed when he spoke and still clung pathetically to the fact that he’d once posed for Playgirl, but we’re not here to bitch about boys today . . . oh no, we are here to bitch about girls.
First of all, you can’t trust them as far as you can throw ‘em~ we all know that. My god, can you SAY backstabbing? Or conniving or devious or double-crossing . . . the list goes on and on for miles, probably ends up somewhere around vicious or vindictive. And I am here today to tell you that I am sick of it! Just plain sick . . .
At my job right now the management is almost one hundred percent female and it terrifies me; not a day goes by when I don’t go home scared I’m going to lose my job because of the way some chick looked at me or spoke to me~ I almost want to quit because of it. And I don’t scare easily either. Navy men and numbers kinda freak me out, but that’s about it~ I could care less about heights, spiders and snakes and yucky things don’t faze me, I don’t lie awake at night fearing ghosts or the H bomb or even drag queens, but I’m more scared of women than some guys. So there you have it, all my screwy MySpace cyber pals, my biggest fear~ the entire female population.
It all started back around the second or third grade when this awful little girl (whom I knew damn well had stolen my favorite New Kids on the Block gum eraser!) announced to everyone that I was secretly in love with the biggest, dumbest kid in class. Then she actually had the audacity to tell me I had cooties and that that was why no one ever wanted to play with me. So flipping back one of my pigtail braids and speaking with great authority, I replied to her that her head looked like a cracked Easter egg . . . you know, because of the hole her brain fell out of. Then a couple days later, we were picked to take some papers down to the office (a HUGE privilege back in those days) and on the way, this little witch scratched herself across the side of the face, mustered up some tears and told the teacher it was ME! Man, I spent that whole day in the closet . . .
And I never trusted girls again (*sniffles*).
But this is the thing~ it’s way harder to swear off girls than it is to swear off guys. They’re EVERYWHERE . . . and they’re always convinced that you’re fucking (or want to fuck) their boyfriend. And no offense, but they usually think more than guys~ they speak in code, they manipulate and scheme nonstop and they always run in packs. I thought it would get better after highschool, but you know what? It didn’t . . . it’s the same.
You tell a girl something in the morning, by lunch she’s told all her friends and usually the one person you didn’t want to know, she can turn a guy against you way easier than a guy can turn her against you, and I will never understand this, but if she catches her boyfriend cheating, she won’t blame him for a second, it’ll be the other woman’s head she wants brought to her on a silver platter and hung over her fireplace! And even if you haven’t done anything with her boyfriend and aren’t planning to (even if you haven’t met the guy), she will do everything in her power to get you out of the way . . .
Boggles the mind, doesn’t it???
So in conclusion, I’m going to steer clear of women~ I can’t swear them off completely the way I at least tried to swear off guys, but you know what, ladies? I’m going to leave you with one final thought: I don’t even want my own boyfriend . . .
Why on earth would I want yours?