The Resting Bitch Face

You’re walking down the hall in school, or in the grocery store with your cart looking for the icing sugar, waiting in line to pay for your gas, or even going for your evening stroll with your pup.. and you SPOT it. RESTING BITCH FACE at 12:00. Immediate reaction is you need to help them to wipe that nastiness off their face. You need to help them. So you…(drum roll, please), SMILE!

Woah. Knew you didn’t see that coming. Or was that too obvious?

Problem solved and we can go on with our day, right? FUCK NO. Why? Resting bitch-face is still there. What. The. Fuck. What the fuck do I do now? I just passed them in the aisle, or the hallway, or the sidewalk, but now my OCD is telling me to meet them again to give them a second chance. I mean they must feel bad because I looked like a nice, genuine person that tried to let that tension on their face loosen up. OK. Next time I pass them at the water cooler, or in the hall (Ok I think we get the point now) I’m gunna smile, but more obvious. And lonnnger.

Here we go.. (SMILLLLEEEEEs).

NOTHING! AGAIN! And then I try a third time.. and now they probably just think I’m a fucking crazy psycho who is working really hard at her anger management homework…which is debatable.

Tip to resting bitch face users:

Don’t let my crazy fucking psycho smile appear. EVER. Because it will. I give people like 10 chances to make up for their “mistake-then-turned-just-fucking-rude” face. But then after that, I deliver a ‘sadistic-spawn-of-satan-with-piercing-fucking-eyes-face’ that will blow your bitch face out of the water! Trust me, it’s worse than Jaxx Teller on a rampage.  And all because you couldn’t have some common decency to stop looking for two seconds like someone went and poured your vodka down the sink.

Smiling is contagious, but so is resting bitch face. I have both. And I use it to what suits the person. Let’s be kind, and if you’re not, there are people out there that will rewind. And try it again. Help those people. Don’t be a bitch, because there is a difference between having resting bitch face and actually being one. Once you are aware you have this elusive ‘dormant asshole look,’ and you care about being kind, just give a smile for a smile, and an eye for an eye. Or I might go Sally Field on your ass.

Cheers and smiles,

Good Golly, Miss Molly

You might not listen to Little Richard the same after this so, fair warning.

Reasons why some of us, in fact, do not need men and more specifically, a relationship. Of course we might WANT one, but we don’t need them. If any men get offended (I don’t know that any of them read this anyway). Please know that we still love you, but this is for those beautiful, independent and possibly single ladies (cheers to you). Below are my opinions of why not needing them around is just fine with us.

Sex. Sex is grand. I think we’ve established that by now on here though. But technically, we can have sex with women, men, and our lovely adult collection of toys. For reasons none other than for this post I will stick with talking about men. My Molly (adult toy) as I like to call her (It’s Molly because she’s sweet, caring, and tends to my needs) – you wouldn’t go around naming it Brutus – that would just not be pleasant and would make the whole experience seem less effective. Ok so Molly. She’s also grand. And after the first time I used her, I have to say that I’ve been popping Molly’s as much as I want. I don’t fight with her, and she never talks back. She does NOT break the bank, aside from the odd battery run. She also provides a guaranteed orgasm. This can be difficult with men.

Good girlfriends. Specifically, find one that knows how to change a tire. Stay friends with them. Buy them vodka and bake them cupcakes to maintain that ‘I help you, you help me’ vibe. If you’re frugal, though, learn to change it yourself.

cupcakes Google. It can tell you what’s wrong with your car, your sink, your phone, your leaky faucet, etc. Men might be able to tell you, but Google can say it better. I will also just add that you should forgive the Google when you realize you’re dying in your hypochondriac state after looking up symptoms of a headache. Same goes for medical books. This is a little off topic but don’t give them to your children, and don’t think it’s a good idea to look at them for yourself either. I was 12 when I decided to diagnose myself on one of those quizzes and after going through it – I called my mother to inform her of my impeding death from stage 4 stomach cancer. I told her she needed to come home. She laughed. She did not come home. However, stomach flu lasting for more than a week can be a bit of an asshole move and frankly, mixed with your self diagnosis – proves to be a shitty experience.

Alcohol. I know you already called this. Nothing says love in a bottle better than wine. A man cannot make you dance well, or give you the courage to try (neither can vodka though, just FYI). He can’t give you a great sleep after hanging out, and unlike men, alcohol is available on a guaranteed basis between the hours of 11 am – 11 pm Monday to Saturday, and 12 pm – 6 pm Sunday. Alcohol allows you to make the plans – it’s very sensitive to your needs and understands that it is men that drove you to drink, anyway. They will not judge you. They just help you in the one way they can.

WinePets. They will arguably love you more. And they will be happier to see you when you come home after a long and hard days’ work. They won’t judge you for the shot of vodka you’re about to take, nor the fifth one if that’s how many idiots you encountered today (see my two-step program). They just want to cuddle and play and love you until they go to bed. For reasons of not wanting to come off more crazy, I am holding off on buying cats. Few years though, I’ll be off my rocker and there will be 10 of them sitting on it.

photo 2Banter aside, don’t get me wrong, men can be ok sometimes. And hey, if he doesn’t turn into a jackhammer when he gets into your, knows how to cook, brings you wine, then maybe he isn’t so bad. Keep him for a while. See how it goes. But according to one of my bestest bitches, if he talks to his mother every day for more than an hour? RUN. It doesn’t even matter if he fits well in the crotch. Just fucking RUN.

Have to jet – turns out I have a date. Her name is Molly (good fucking golly). And I suggest you do the same! Afterwards, vodka and cupcakes, your tire has a nail in it.


Phones, Social Media, and Self Absorbed Twats.

And if the Sound of Music could say it – these are a few of my (un)favorite things. And now I don’t feeeel sooo bad!

1. Your body is a temple. I get it. And you look great, you really do. But no one needs to see your temple every time you pick up a dumbbell! I’d bet you’re the only one who notices your week to week progress. Your deltoid hasn’t changed much from Friday to Monday. And is there any part of you that feels weird when other people are looking at you while you flex into the mirror with that self-involved smile? I would. Shit, those people already know the hashtags you’re going to use. But you probably assume they’re just jealous. Maybe they are. But maybe they just think you’re acting like a douche.

This guy explains this much better than I ever could.

2. Selfies. In plural. All the time. It’s Instagram, not Instaselfie. You can take them (I do when I feel pretty!) but let’s not let it take over your life. Set up a schedule – limit yourself to one selfie a week. Give the rest of us a break from them. Got it? K thanks.

3. Girls not getting along with other girls. I’ve said this before but it deserves a second mention. Bitch, you have no friends. Try getting along with humans. We’re not that bad.

4. Bath tub pics. Why? With the perfectly placed candles, your newly polished toes, and a glass of wine in hand. You didn’t hop in there to relax, you did it to post your fucking photo. And rub a dub dub – why the fuck is your phone in the tub?! With too much wine you might just drop it and that photo now cost you $700. I’m trying to help you here. I would never want you to rack up a bill like that. Unless you’re guilty of #2 (above – I’m not actually talking about poop, silly).

5. Phone addicts. I’ve been guilty for this in the past but can see now the error in my ways. There is nothing worse than getting together with your friends OR family (if you’re lucky enough they could be both) with your head at a downward 45 degree angle, scrolling through your twitter to keep up with the latest tweets of Zac Efron (self-reminder, Leanna). You don’t see these people that are in the same room as you all the time! Say hi to them. Ask them how their day is. Find out what’s happening in their life.  It might give you something to post about later. Some of your family don’t even own phones! Imagine how boring that would be for them to watch you scroll. So do it on your own time.

6. And finally, to end on a positive, I’ll just guessed it – food pics. These, no matter how much someone tells you they’re not, are 100% OK TO POST. There are people like me in this world that DO want to see what you’re eating. That’s me. I fucking love food. I fucking love drinks. You slap on an X-Pro II filter and BAM. It doesn’t have to be a milkshake – it can be bacon. Or mac and cheese for the beginner chefs – it’ll still bring all the boys to the yard. Now go grab yourself a glass of wine, take a damn photo of it if you want and enjoy your day! I will now that I got this off my chest. I’m going to go check my yard for boys, now.