being sexually harrassed too much in one day

I have once been quoted saying that I refuse to work in an establishment where I am not sexually advanced upon once a day.

Do I really want to be propositioned for sex daily? no. I just hate corporate rules that frown upon my oral sex jokes.

The reason for this rant has been snowballing for several days, starting with the gyno visit that included the pleasant conversation regarding the HPV that I now have. I consider myself to be a responsible gal when it comes to sex, so this was a bit of a shock to me. After talking to many friends and coming to terms that this is fairly common, I finally shook the notion that I was a nasty-ho.

Fast forward to yesterday morning. The night before I decided to spend the night at my man-toys house. Donning my work clothes from the previous night, I roll up to my house around 11am to find my 60yr old black toothless neighbor sitting outside his house listening to Chris Brown. I start to walk inside when I notice him coming over to the fence to talk to me. I really hate engaging in conversation with him because I have a hard time understanding him due to his lack of teeth and his use of Ebonics. However for this conversation, I heard every word.

neighbor : "Hi! How you doin?"

me: "Hey there" (walks to door)

neighbor: "You look like a hooker"

me: "What?"

neighbor: (smiling) "You've been out all night, I can tell. Your hairs all messed up"

me: "Ahh... yeah I went out with some friends last night..."

dickbag: "Hangin out with friends?... when are we gonna hang out?"

me: "ha...uhhh... i don't know..." (quickly goes inside and slams door)

Why didn't I tell him to go fuck a log? I don't know. I feel he is kinda senile and probably at the edge of death...

So feeling a bit busted that my walk of shame was seen by my neighbor and called out like a gay at a nascar race, I prepared for work hoping my day would get better.

Nope. While at work I had my ass grabbed by a kitchen guy.. wait let me re-phrase... not grabbed, but one cheek was full on palmed, squeezed, i was lifted and moved 3ft in front of me. Mind you I was wearing a skirt and he was dangerously close to some vag-lips. (i did pinch his butt first, so maybe I was asking for it) Then the same fuck picked me up and tried to lift me high enough to show others my ass... THEN after we closed one of the drunk bartenders pulled down my tank top strap and bra strap then walked behind me and lifted my skirt up.

now my behavior is playful and I enjoy some pretty fucked up humor... maybe this seems like an invite, but under no circumstance is anyone invited to touch me like that. And the worst part is, is that I didn't say anything back to any of these pricks! Instead I thought of wearing pants and covering up more. That's not cool. I used to consider myself a sassy fem, but I seriously let myself down here. How do I still keep the same relaxed, banter filled, work environment with out turning into sexual harassment panda?

Any Ideas? Any cool chicks out there ever have the line crossed and successfully fix the problem? Id love to hear how anyone else keeps the balance...

--TwistedPanty

I Hate(d) My Boss.

I got yelled at the other day at work. And not just a little, "Hey, Tara, you're not pre-bussing your tables, so Juan Pedro Luis Valdez-Bustamente had to stop holding up the server station, grabbing the hostess's ass, and texting on his pre-paid phone to go do some actual work!!"

No, it was a full on tirade and took about 5 minutes of my life of which I will never get back. He apparently heard from some back-stabbing piece of shit that I referred to him as "clueless" and said "he doesn't know how to run a restaurant." I did not deny it. (He doesn't. More on that later.) He stood there telling me that I'm hanging on by a thread and I should be lucky to have my job after the things I've said. "Oh please, please don't fire me from my WAITRESSING job!! I'll never find another one!"

I'm pretty sure that this is America and I am entitled to my opinion so I'm convinced the only thing I did wrong was to voice that opinion in a not-opinion-friendly atmosphere.

While he was yelling at me, the only thing I could think about was that GIANT shnoz. No joke, this fucking guy has a huge nose, which is normally a turn on for me. Not anymore, *shudders.* He was flailing his arms about and pointing and bobbing that head like a black girl in a movie theater. Oy.

Fast forward two months. I quit that shitass job for another one. This new job is at the local VFW where I get to wait on the most racist pieces of human waste I have ever had the misfortune of laying eyes on. I'm not even going to put any of it in print because it is just disgusting. If it were remotely funny, maybe, but it's just plain old offensive. Suffice it to say that most of the parties that are booked are for quinceaneras, enormous wedding receptions, you get where I'm going with this. Somehow this guy got it into his miniscule brain that I was anywhere near the same page as him, which I'm not. Let's put it this way: my daughter is dating a hispanic boy. He's great, I love the kid. We make jokes about him mowing my lawn but he laughs and if it bothered him, i would most certainly apologize and stop being an asshole. But I do not hate someone strictly for their race. I'm far too intelligent to make that kind of sterotypical, ignorant generalization about any group of individuals. In short: making jokes in private, okay; making disgustinly racist remarks in public, bad....very, very bad.

Oh, plus I made $9 on a Saturday night bartending shift. Figure that one out.

This, along with my daughter turning two and my husband's company closing up shop and moving, has made me rethink every move I will be making in my life. I am signing up for school again so that I may finishing getting my degree and get my butt into some type of writing, be it journalism, freelance short stories, what have you.

I'm looking forward to what the future will bring me and I may be writing a lot more on this blog as I will be dealing with what I consider to be the classiest folks in Joliet: the Junior College attendees.

Stay tuned! ~undies in a bunch

Cranky. Hrmpf.

Soooooooo.....

You know what i love? When people say they are coming to your party and then they don't.
I love planning to buy food for a certain amount of people and they don't show up. Then i get to have enough leftover crap to feed the very tiny country of Monaco. Ooh! Ooh! I LOVE that!!
I also love stressing out over not having enough seating for all of my friends only to realize that my friends really aren't my friends after all, apparently. I actually cried yesterday.

I love that the only ones of my 'friends' who bothered to show up (much less call) were my bff in from Nashville for a wedding, and my other bff who I know would rather be at home watching Family Guy. To you two, thank you so much for hanging out at my boring-ass lame fucking party. Granted, it was a party for my 8th grader's graduation so it really wasn't about me, and she had a killer time, so that's good.

But for those of you who gave me some asshole excuse about why you couldn't make it, go fuck your mother. Or a goat. Or yourself, or whatever. This isn't just for my 'friends,' either. There were some family members in there, too. I'm also going to throw in some of my daughter's friends who gave her excuses like "I'm not going because so and so's not going." Or the opposite, "I'm not going because so and so IS going." Huh??

When i was a kid, if i got invited to a party, or in this case, a grad party, i went, if only to get the hell out of my house. It was the last of social events until school started again because you know the kids with summer birthdays got the shaft, big time. They didn't get huge parties like the rest of us because there was no school in session for everyone to talk about it and build it up and there weren't all your peeps around you to help you decide who to invite and what music to play, etc. I've decided that most of the kids she goes to school with suck.

Anyways....I'm just annoyed today because i planned this for a few weeks, and the grad hat cupcakes took three people to put together because they were a bit tedious and i wanted people to actually SEE them.

I'm also annoyed at the people who say they are going to help you watch your toddler but don't because they are retarded. This one's for you mom, and grandma. (They aren't what you call computer savvy, so I'm not worried about them seeing this- ever.) My mother knows how to get under my skin with her glib comments like "you'll survive" and "you'll get through this" and "relax, breathe in, breathe out." Thanks Mrs. Miyagi. Just what i needed, useless advice.

Next time, throw me a fucking Percoset.

"Carpooling" Assholes

So here's what got my undies in a bunch today, or rather, got them so twisted and so far up my crack, they may never fucking come out.

I carpool with another family in the morning. May i just say a family of crazy christians? Okay then, I'm putting it out there into the universe.

I drive Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. They drive Tuesday and Thursday, except every other Thursday, when the kids go in late for "school improvement day," then they drive that Friday. You with me so far?

These idiots are late so often, that my kid is getting referrals constantly about how she needs to be on time for class and blah blah blah.

See, here's the thing- it doesn't matter if their kid is late, because she's not a student there, she only takes high school math there(as does my younger child), so they can't touch her if she's late. So, this is simply a case of "it doesn't matter to me, therefore, I won't care about you." Simple selfishness.

Might I also add...typical christians. First of all, the mom is forever trying to recruit me into her church, to which my heathen ass politely declines. There will come a day when I am not so polite. That day may be soon.

She calls and wants me to go to her Wednesday morning women's bible study group, which by it's very nature has me creeped out. I don't believe the bible has anything geared specifically toward women's rights except maybe...yeah...nevermind...they got nothing. Guess what I'm all about? You got it- women's rights. Birth control, abortion, voting, keeping my last name when i get married if i so choose, the whole bit. I am no one's property, nor will I allow myself to be treated as such. So the thought of sitting around with a bunch of other crazies while we talk about how we can be better wives makes me wanna stab someone in the eyeball with a crucifix.

She gets me into an hour long phone call as to why I am an atheist and her main argument is "well, you can't see Poland, but you know it's there, right?" To which I want to reply, "Yeah, but I can go there whenever I want to, and I don't have to be DEAD to do so." It's frustrating, to say the least.

My final point about how crazy these weirdos are is this- they lived in Croatia for five years because they were on a mission to stop ethnic cleansing in their own special way. How? By converting all the Muslims to Christians!!!! That's gotta be about as easy as asking Dina Lohan to stop acting like a coked-up old skeezer and start acting like a mom. Or asking the pope to please stop wearing white all the damn time. Or asking an eyes-glazed-over Katie Holmes-Cruise to lay off the Paxil/Zoloft/Lexapro cocktail so we can see some of the formerly sparkling personality of hers.

Done!

I thought developers were desperate to sell...

I've had it. I've really had it.

My mom passed away from cancer in December 2007. My siblings and I inherited quite a bit of money from it, and instead of squandering mine on worthless objects I decided I would purchase my own house. After some shopping around I found my little dream town home in Joliet. It was a new development, so I'd have to wait for it to be built, but the wait was 6 months which I didn't think would be too bad.

I signed my contract in February 2008 and was given an approximate closing date of "August/September 2008". I was told they would be starting the framing of the building very soon and in 6 months I would be able to move. I was so freakin' excited, I went to tour the model home about 10 times.

Fast foward a little bit: March, no progress. April, no progress. May, no progress. I was given no update other than "They'll be starting framing in May!" Then I'm told that they can't build my house for a long time because the other units haven't sold. Why wasn't I told this? It's been 3 months...

So, the 'corporate' office offers to sell me 1) the model home or 2) one of the already built ones. The already built ones are out because they only include the standard floor plan, not the upgraded one that I had put in my contract. The model home wouldn't be too bad - it's only missing a few things I wanted. My contract house price was around $206,000. I emailed them to see 1) how long the wait would be to move into the model and 2) how much of a discount I would get off of it for it being a model.

Imagine my dismay when the price came back $240,000 but it could be all mine for $216,000. There was no model discount, the $216,000 only included the regular discounts they were offering on 50% off upgrades. Instead they would just like $10,000 more of my dollars for inconveniencing me. If they had said $195,000 I would have been happy. But I'm not paying more or even the same price for a house that doesn't include the stuff I wanted.

And so now what was supposed to be a good thing that would help me honor my mom's memory by not pissing away her money on worthless crap has turned into a nightmare for me which will have to involve hiring a lawyer to get out of my contract and get my $4,000 deposit back.

Thanks, Timber Oaks LLC Joliet from Kipling Homes. You suck ass.

Unsolicited advice and the d-bags that give it out...

This will be a quickie, I promise, and all you have to do is lay there...

I started a website for my home-based business, yay me. Against my better judgment, i decided to ask my myspace 'friends' what they though of it in a preliminary fashion. I stated clearly that i didn't care if sounded like an asshole, but i didn't want to look like i had a fourth grade education. For the most part, i got a lot of "yay you!" and "it's hilarious, i can totally see you saying that stuff!"
some people even told me to capitalize my i's, which i know, i have a bad habit of not doing.

Then i got a shitty message from someone i have never met and will never meet who told me i sounded like an angry checkout girl. She went on to say that she would never buy my goodies because of my attitude. She told me that older people would be offended my nastiness.

I'm pretty sure i didn't ask what you though of my personality, you cunty, wrinkled fucktard. I wanted input on the fonts, layout, etc.

I was fairly nice back when i told her that i had no intention of changing my personality- regardless of money- because some old hag can't take a joke. I ended up changing a lot of it anyway because I'm trying to sound funny, not mean, and i guess not everyone gets my sense of humor.

That's it. I'm done. Undies un-bunched.

Metrosexual, or copying the gays you hate...

I am a little lost with this whole metro-sexual craze and where/when in the hell it started.


As far back as I can remember, and even farther back if you look at history, the “straight men” of this world (and furthermore this nation) have done nothing but belittle and torture gay men for living their lives. If you are gay, or know of any gay men, then you have probably heard of this happening. By the end of this little rant you will see just how incompetent, mindless, and useless most of these “straight men” are. Now, I must add that not all “straight men” need be lumped into this group, because there are a select few who do not belong there, although 98% of them do.

These “straight men” have been known to say such things as “faggot, queer, queen, pussy, sissy etc.”, and if you were to ask them why they do this or why they assume that the person in which they are heckling are indeed gay they would respond “for a number of reasons." Some of these reasons being; the way he is dressed, does his hair, walks, waxes his eye brows/legs/arms, his highlights, earrings, nipple rings, tanning, manicures, pedicures, and so on and so on.

The most irritating part of all this was that most of them look like dumpy old unwashed miscreants. Within the last few years, these “straight men” have become hypocrites to the fact that they now have been doing exactly what they have made fun of for all these years. I have seen some of the transition first hand; the clothing they now wear, the fact that they frequent salons instead of barbershops to get their hair/highlights, nails, eyebrows, facials, etc. done, and even product lines like Clinique and Lancôme have started releasing men’s lines of makeup. I have also seen mannerisms change and them acting more and more gay in mocking ways at first, but in much more convincing ways than gay men themselves. The piercings and hair removal and tanning have also increased immensely. The way around them not being called such names as mentioned earlier was to make up a whole new word and way of life by naming these “straight men” metrosexuals.

The term “metrosexual” is just a cop out and I think it should be called exactly what it is- “thank you gay men.” For showing us the ways of the world so that women may look and gay men may look at us without wanting to vomit. While on the topic of gay men looking at straight men, I think it should be noted that just because a gay man looks at you or compliments you, it does not mean that he wants to touch you, or better yet, to fuck you.

You hit on women all the time and get turned down, because believe it or not you are not the end all of the entire world!

When you say “I am cool with gay guys as long as they don’t try to hit on me” you should look in the mirror and think if you are even worthy of that gay guy hitting on you.

One last point on this subject is on hate crimes. Straight men beat and kill gay men far too often and always with the defense “but they hit on me, or touched me, or I just hate faggots." If this is the case, then almost every man on the planet would be hospitalized/dead because thats what happens to women constantly.

In closing I must also say that most women do not find it cool or sexy when a man has a need to scream hateful things at other men just to seem like an alpha male. Most women I this world would just look at you for exactly what you are, a hateful fucking d-bag asshole.

Waiting...

There's a reason this movie was made. It was an homage, if you will, to all of us out there who have to do this shit job for a living. If you have ever waited tables, you know what I'm talking about.

There's always some d-bag acting like they know more about the food you serve than you do, or they pronounce it differently but look at YOU like YOU'RE the idiot when you say it right. Maybe you got the "verbal tip" from a table, you know, where they tell you how awesome you were but leave you barely ten percent. There's the psycho mom who demands you sing Happy Birthday to her snot-nosed asshole teenager. There's the family of weirdos who insist on calling you by your first name like they've known you more than 30 seconds. Let's not forget the hopeless freaks who beg you make them something that's not even close to being on the menu. What about the people who you just can't seem to please, I mean no amount smiling I'
m sorry's will soothe them until they've gotten everything comped? I could go on and on...

But let me break it down bitch-style for all you peeps who have never waited tables and think that we are all millionaires from the three bucks you leave us.

First, i get paid four bucks an hour. That's not a typo, shit for brains. Four fucking dollars. See, our wonderful legislators here in Illinois (as well as many other states) are counting on you, dear customer, to leave a sufficient tip, so they allow for our bosses to give us the high, hard one. The shaft. To bend us over and use NO lube. You get the picture.

Second, out of that four bucks a fucking hour, we get our taxes taken out, so every two weeks, i get a paycheck that's usually not enough to fill up one tank of gas.

Third, we have to tip out a bartender, a busser, and a food runner from our nights tips. In my restaurant, it's 12% of what i make to the bussers, 8% to the bartender, and seven bucks to the food runner. THIS IS NOT AN OPTION. I don't get to cheat on this because my boss looks at my credit card receipts and what i rung up in food sales and figures on what i should be tipping out. When you work in chain restaurants, it's on the report at the end of the night, telling you what you MUST tip out OR ELSE. Why do we have to tip out? Well, the bartender also gets four bucks an hour. And the busser? If he spoke English, he could complain about his four bucks an hour, but he gets even less, I'm sure. Again, the gov't assumes you fuckfaces are going to tip appropriately so they let them get the shitty end of the stick also.

Do me a favor, unless it gives you a tingle in your shriveled nether regions to leave a disgustingly small tip, go to McDonald's asshole!! I'm not interested in waiting on you and your family while you let your spoiled, horribly rude children run around my restaurant like it's a fucking playground! And don't give me that old i can't afford a big tip bullshit line either. Yet another reason you and your hillbob brood should stay the fuck home and grill some possum or whatever it is you nasties eat. Oh, but this is also for those moms who get together with other moms, let their children act like savages while the waitstaff is left to babysit, and leave a paltry 15% tip. You are all a bunch of fat whores who should have kept your legs closed.

Do not forget, dear customer, there is a place on the internet where disgruntled wait persons go to write your names down and whatever else they feel like writing...sometimes it is even illegal what they do. I have heard stories. Just sayin'.

"Let's play a game. It's called whoever treats the waiter like a human being gets to NOT go to hell!" ~Will Truman, Will&Grace

See, the thing about drive throughs is....

So here's what got my unders in a bunch today.

I'm in line at the bank, the drive through. You know, where it's ALLEGEDLY supposed to be quicker? Anyway, I have these checks i need to deposit. They have only been in my purse for a few hours but here's the sitch- (you know, situation? get it, smarty?)

We are broke. Like broker than broke. Like, I'm so broke i can't even pay attention, broke. This is partially due to my internet spending habits, and partially due to my partner's penchant for expensive toys that he does not need. (Blackberry? But you work in a factory! Hummer? But we don't have to haul or tow anything! And we live in the suburbs, not the mountains! PS3? But we already have the xbox and the Wii! WTF?)

So, I'm desperate to make my deposit because i know a million dollars worth of checks are going to clear while i'm waiting here. I'm behind this dude, and he's wearing a tie, so right away, i do NOT like him. To me, the suit people are part of the problem, never the solution. They don't recycle, they don't buy fair trade coffee, they don't buy organic cotton clothing, etc. They are the worst kind of consumers- the kind who simply consume. But there he is, sitting there, talking on what must have been an iphone because he kept touching it. FIFTEEN MUTHERFUCKING MINUTES GO BY. I could not go into another lane because a scraggly looking super old black man, who i swear must have been Harriet Tubman's granddad, was parked so close to my ass, he might as well have built himself a home up there. I waved him back so that i could move, to no avail. He gave me the shrugged shoulder "I'm a complete retard" look. Sighs angrily.

Meanwhile, the suit is taking something out of the drawer contraption...it's a money bag!!! You sonofabitch! You couldn't have walked your lazy piece of shit ass inside to do that!?!? They don't have a special lane for business at this bank. I know some banks do, but not this one. Fucker.

I was horribly rude to the lady in the window when it was my turn. "Don't you have some policy that you could remind people like that about?" She replies, "I can't really tell him i won't wait on him." I reply, "So you think it's better to make me and the people behind me wait because you don't want to tell him, 'I'm sorry sir, but you'll have to come inside for your transaction.'?" She does not answer and then says have a nice day. I pull away.

Guess where this douchehead was going? Guess where i saw this colossal asshole was pulling up to when i left my bank? Guess? Fucking Starbuck's!!!! He's one of THEM!! The can-i-get-a halfcafdoubleshotcaramelsoynowhiponly140degrees fuckwads!!!!!! I just know it!!

End rant.

people who should really just take the emergency exit out of my life, but dont.

So I haven't posted in awhile. Is it that because I have finally gotten my panties out of a bunch? Oh hell, no. Its because of life. And people. Maybe even you.

Today's panty wedgie is due to the fact that an old friend whom I may have a had a complicated past with wants to get a drink and catch up. I don't HATE this person... in fact I guess I really care for them... but I am far better without them in my life. I'm sure this person is thinking drinks will be all "oh tell me whats new!" ... but I am not going to say that.

I hear from other people how their life is going and I am not excited or impressed by these new decisions. I don't like this persons significant other... at all... In fact I could post a full blog stating all the reasons why this significant other is socially dysfunctional, has the personality of wet cardboard and is about as pleasant as a taint rash.

So what does one say when a friend is making all sorts of shitty decisions... to you. I mean my friend obviously is excited for life's new twist and turns. I frankly am speechless and not exactly sure how I am going to get through an entire get together asking nothing personal about their life.

Do you just say "I'm happy your happy"?

Do I cancel?

Or do I let my opinions get the best of me and congratulate them on their shitty shitty shitty life.

--Twisted Panty

Sex and the City- anyone REALLY care?

I am sooooo tired of all the press about this movie. "Does she or doesn't she? Ooohhhhh..." All the different articles about Carrie marrying Mr. Big, as if this show was ever relevant to anyone outside of Manhattan.

Let's not forget all the references to Carrie Bradshaw being a style icon and i have to say, that really makes want to gag on my cosmo. (I'd like to throw her on What Not To Wear. Clinton and Stacy would rip her a new one.) Was anyone paying attention to her clothes? Really? Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure that half the shit she wore either didn't match or wasn't flattering to her figure or was just plain fucking ugly. Seriously. Sarah J.P. has a place in my heart because we have the same nappy-ass frizzball hair that takes hours of taming with a whip and chair to get it to settle down. But I'm not claiming any of these outfits.
I would also like to point out that i think this show is responsible for middle class women thinking they should own Manolos and the Hermes Berkin Bag. If Richard Branson asked me to marry him tomorrow(i'd say no, i don't like British accents) with the only requirement being no pre-nup, i still would not spend five grand on a purse.
Oh and by the way, if you live at home with your mama but have five coach purses, guess what we call that where i'm from? Ghetto fabulous. No one's buying it, sweetheart. We all know you're broke ass can't afford that shit so stop trying to act like you're someone you aren't.
Back to the rant at hand- Charlotte- Whiner. Samantha- Old Skank/Hag. Miranda-the ugly one, or as we say in my circle, "the bulldog." (ask me about that later). Carrie-So far from being a real person, it makes me sad what they'll put on tv these days. But we hit an all time low years ago with a show about people eating sheep testes or swimming in pig's blood, so whatever.
Like, oh my god, they're talking about me and my friends cuz like, we're all pretty skanky too and we like to drink and party so i REALLY identify with this show.
i'm over it.

women who "hover" over public toliets.

I can still remember being a young girl in the burbs going out for a Sunday with my grandmother. My grandmother was the over protective type that insisted on following me everywhere. Like if we were at the mall and I walked to a different clothing rack I would hear my name being called in a panicked fashion. Clearly I must have been stolen.

In our many adventures it would not be uncommon to have to use the little girls room and she would insist that we share a bathroom stall. I would go to sit down and she would say *gasp* "NO-- don't sit down on the seat... its so dirty!" My little legs didn't give me quite enough bow room to do "the hover" or squat so I would fall on the seat and get upset. She insisted that even though I couldn't hover, I needed to wash my hands "right away!" I'm not sure how that helped the fact that my ass was tainted by the dirty seat, but I scrubbed my hands as much as possible.

There we even a few times that she would go in front of me with her perfected hover and I would watch in confused awe as her piss would spray all over the toilet seat. Wasn't this how the seats got dirty in the first place?

Id just like to say to all the women out there that feel their asses are too good to place on a public toilet seat, that YOU are the reason public restrooms are nasty!! Why do you need to spray your piss all over the seat and beyond?? Is it a way of marking your territory? In all my many shit-ass jobs, the women's restrooms that were the worst were the ones at the upper class establishments. Why is this? Do rich people think that their precious, overly fed, spoiled asses are too pristine to sit down on a toilet seat??

Please, I know you rich bitches have had more nasty shit up up or on your asses then a little bulk toilet cleaner and the shadow of the ass before. Are you worried about catching an STD? Do we need to go back to health class to explain how this works?

If nasty ho A. rubs her infested cooter on the toilet rim and then nasty ho B. tries to rub her cootch on the same spot... like tries to insert it... then maybe...JUST MAYBE... something can be transferred.

Moral of this blog: SIT THE FUCK DOWN TO PEE! or at least wipe up your piss-mist after.

--Twisted Panty

Jack Black. Just stop.

You know what gets my undies in a bunch?
Ah, Jack Black. I see you are going to ruin another movie, this time an animated feature, Kung Fu Panda, or some nonsense like that . I tried hard to like you. I did. But you are simply not funny. And not funny in a really, really fat way. Honestly, if i wanted to see an overweight, hair-laden, unattractive man humiliate himself while partially nude, I'll watch pretty much any Will Ferrell movie. At least a good portion of his films are moderately amusing. I can't think of any of yours off the top of my head that i would ever recommend to even a person whom i hoped would put cigarette butts out in his or her asshole. Please stop. And stop eating while your at it. 'Funny fat guy' went out when Chris Farley died. If the only way you can get laughs anymore is by grabbing your massive beer-trophy gut and shaking it all about hokey-pokey style, then you are off your game, my friend. Hang it up while you can still possibly scrape what's left of your dignity off the floor.
End rant.

People who take advantage...you know who you are

I'm trying to keep this anonymous so let's just say i run a very respectable mealworm farm out of my basement. All my friends know i have mealworms and some have even purchased a few mealworms from me from time to time.
However, one person in particular flat out told me she can't afford to buy my mealworms and could i possibly email her my very private, protected, er, secrets on how to grow them.
I'm sorry but did you just ask me to give you something for free that i charge other people for? Could you please go fornicate yourself? I don't you like you THAT much.
So i gave her some very crappy instructions that i ...ahem...doctored. And of course, she kept emailing me with questions as to what she may have done wrong with her mealworms. (I did NOT respond)
*chuckle*
From one Jew to another- quit being a Jew! If you don't wanna spend a couple hundred dollars on books on how to farm your mealworms, and then a couple hundred man hours with your oven, i mean, your worms, trying to figure out what the best, um, farms are, then go spend a night or two on the internet. There are mealworms discussion boards aplenty! (god, this metaphor is starting to suck)
I would never ask someone made cute t-shirts if i could wear one for a special occasion, then give it back. Well, i can't think of an appropriate anecdote, but i think you get it.
So, to all you bitches who think it's okay to take advantage of your friends...suck it long and hard.

The exsistance of Lindsey Lohan

Twisted Panty would like to introduce its newest staff writer... "He-who-wears-Hotpants". Or at least that is what I am calling him until he comes up with a better name. The following is his letter to above mentioned skank of the moment, Lindsey Lohan. Enjoy.

Dear Lindsay Lohan,

Let me start by saying I would not call myself a "fan" of your movies, although I did enjoy 'Mean Girls'. But that was just thanks to good writing. I don't really think you're all that great of an actress. You're not terrible, I suppose. It's just there are several million other people who could act better given the chances you've had.

I am not here to rag on you for your personal life either. I am not alarmed that I for see you dying in the next year of some sort of chemical overdose. Frankly I don't really care. If you're stupid enough to do those things then it's just nature's way of thinning out the herd.

Who am I to argue?

The reason I AM writing to you is because I feel you owe me 1 hour and 40 minutes of your life to make up for the time I lost sitting through the piece of corned up shit released as "I Know Who Killed Me." The name alone sounds like the 'working title' of a movie, and after seeing it, I'm sure they just left it as that because they knew nobody would see it anyway. I wish I had been so lucky. I should deduct the whole hour and 42 minutes, but I enjoyed the two minute scene of you getting tortured, so I am crediting you for that time.

To begin with, I am not a fan of extremely freckled bodies, in fact, I think I have a phobia of them. Seeing your pale, freckled skin trying to be sexy while acting as an exotic dancer was less enjoyable than fucking a cheese grater. The close-up shot of your freckled back nearly made me vomit in disgust. Kudos to you for getting those big boobs, I'm sure some men will overlook the disgusting gingerness of your skin just for a chance to touch them. Thankfully, I am gay and immune to their powers.

How could you possibly agree to make this movie? It made no sense. I understand that maybe you needed a paycheck (perhaps you've literally 'blown' through all the money you already made), but maybe you should have taken up real exotic dancing to make a few bucks. Seriously, anything would have been better than this piece of crap.

I think the scene that irritated the most was when Dakota got onto Aubrey's computer and immediately found the obscure web site devoted to non-religious twin stigmata. Yeah, that totally made sense. Working in a library, I can guarantee you that if a patron came to the reference desk saying that parts of their body were falling off and it was related to their unknown twin getting butchered... well, it would take that person with a masters degree in library science a hell of a lot longer than 8 seconds to stumble on that key piece of information. And yet, your character, the exotic dancing child of a deceased crack mother, found it immediately. Bravo.

I don't think I can manage to continue pointing out the flaws that made this movie so horrid. Please just see that you either 1) have a witch doctor suck out 1 hour and 40 minutes of your life and transfer it to me or 2) send a check in the amount of $1,400 payable to He-who-wears-Hotpants. If you need my address please let me know.

Warmest regards for a decent career revival,

He-who-wears-Hotpants

the phrase "Cool Beans"

Who the FUCK came up with that and why did everyone including myself think it was an OK thing to say?

Like, if my new top is awesome, does it remind you of a chilled garbanzo?? I don't understand. I do enjoy a few of the bean family members (not baked!) and I suppose I do think they are pretty rockin, but why would I want to associate all cool things in my life with some really bitchin beans?

WHO THE FUCK STARTED THIS??? AND WHY HAVE I FOLLOWED LIKE JUST ANOTHER PINTO TO ROLL OF THE PLATE???

I gotta say, I'm kinda pissed I ever said something so stupid

--Twisted Panty

getting the proverbial "gold star" from someone with the credentials of my couch.

My couch is hideous. Its all sorts of colors, but I cant complain because it was free. It has served me well in my move from my parents house, but this couch has a past. I am told it has been peed on before my coming to possess it. It has most defiantly been peed on since my ownership of it, but that's an entirely different story. The couch creaks, can come apart, and has many chambers that hold wondrous treasures of lost nuts (of the legumes family as well as male), beer caps, pens, safety pins, and loose change. If you were to look beneath my couch you will find enough hair, dust, buttons, food and dead leaves to create a nest most of my neighbors would be thrilled to live in. I have since decided that this eyesore needs a cover to better present myself as an adult to the outside(well 'inside' actually) world.

The purpose of my first blog is not to inform you of my lounging apparatus, but to point out the similarities between my couch and the growing number of people in society that forget that they are nothing more than a shitty couch with a cover.

Today's wonderful weather and great hair day was slammed to a screeching halt by a few arrogant shits who like to be "supportive" but in turn only make me see red and envision a great closing scene from my employment. Something ala Jennifer Anistons character in Office Space.

It is not uncommon for myself to be a bit late for work or not always make my numbers. Does this make me a shitty employee? Maybe. However, I would just like to point out I don't steal, talk down to people, ignore company policy (well... not really anyway), think I am better than anyone or try to make anyone elses life any harder than it already is. I don't over achieve in my "in-between" job, but I also try not to be a general ass clown either.

So today I come into work early and I can feel something coming. Something that maybe in the right context would be flattering, but this is not said context. Someone notices the time... and whats that noise??

Applause.

Oh-- OH LOOK AT THIS!! A HIGH FIVE! A pat on the back even!! "Great job" they say!

I smile. "Thank You!" "Yes I know! I did it!" " ha! wow, yes I know I should be proud of myself"

See this is what comes out of my mouth but whats really going on in my head is "Oh yes, thank you for pointing out to the WHOLE FUCKING STORE that I made it here on time! I'm sure you feel this is supportive and your doing "your part" in promoting great store morale, but really it make me want to turn and applaud you for making it through life this far and not needing rehab. I mean, if I woke up everyday and had to call this sorry excuse for a job my CAREER I'd be drinking a whole lot... and taking unprescribed prescription meds. Oh wait, you already do that... well hey, you know, congrats to you for being above the whole sober thing... its really just over rated, right?

"And honestly I came in Early because I really love this place. And you...hey you:) I couldn't sleep much I was filled with so much exCITEment of coming in and seeing if we would be on the same shift. You get excited a lot too right? Like when you make it through a therapy session without remembering how you REALLY wanted to be a writer or a FBI agent when you were a little kid and now you work in this really cool customer-service-type job. Ya know, congrats to you for rolling with the punches.

But ummm... I just want to say that if you ever exude your supposed 'superiority' over me again with infantile clapping and high fives for my arrival to this fucking shitbox, Ill make sure to respond with equal age appropriate behavior and hike my skirt and make tinkle all over this floor... ok?"

--Twisted Panty