Hipsters - I know it's cliche to hate them but I fucking hate them. I don't live too far from Williamsburg and when I do end up in that 'hood I have to fight mightily not to mush one of them in their greasy-haired, tight ass pants wearing, ironic t-shirt sporting head. I can't stand the whole "hey look-at-me I'm such a delicate and special fucking flower, I was up on _____ before they sold-out and went mainstream" steez that they rock. And seriously, let's be real: you're a fucking Trustafarian from the UES or some hayseed from Iowa who moved to the "edgy" neighborhood to remake yourself into this faux ass poser bitch who drinks PBR and thinks bacon in anything is the cat's pajamas. And you have the nerve to side-eye me like I'm the thing that looks wrong? Bitch please. Go fuck your entire selves.
Shopping - As much as it pains me to admit it, I've grown to hate shopping mainly because my unemployed status leaves me out of the game and when I entered my thirties I also entered the ranks of Team Chunk. Trading the size 8s to 12s of my 20s for the 14s & 16s of my 30s has made shopping a complete shit show. It's as if the fashion whoevers are saying to me: "Hey Fatty! If you gave a shit about looking good you'd be a size 00 but you aren't so here's a polyester leopard-print sparkle muu-muu ya fat bitch!" If I decide that stretch floral polyester fuckery isn't for me, I'm gonna have to break bread because this broad ain't really about that 2-minute shelf life clothing from Faith 21 or the plus-size section of Rainbow. The kicker is that I'm not even plus-sized enough to shop in the Team Chunk stores so when I roll thru those joints I get the size-eye of the decade from MVP Award-winning Team Chunk members. So shopping = no bueno.
Ailments and Assorted Foolishness - I've officially gotten creaky. To the point where I have to do some stretching damn near every time I've sat in one position for too long. There's also grunting and groaning involved as well. It's like one day I hit some sort of age thing that has caused my body to do stupid shit. For instance, I'm a mole lady. By that I mean I'm fucking sprouting moles all over my fucking body. And in dumb places like on my neck in the exact place when my purse strap sits when I rock a cross body bag. It's bad enough that my Team Chunk membership has taken away my ability to wear high boots that aren't made for wide calves. But the purses man? That shit ain't even fair. Oh and the grey hair! I've got two teeny tiny nubs on both sides of my head that are like devil horns. And they are too short to style and they won't even respond to gelling and brushing. Ugh! There are also pimples and manic levels of PMS now so there's that.
For all the things I hate, there are things that I've grown to love and not be able to live without. My old ass will come thru with details on those things later. Until then...
Later...
1 comment:
LMAO!! this is the funniest ever! I'm so happy you went back to blogging! I hear you on the ailments part. My knees start hurting me when there's bad weather, which is weird because I've never had any knee surgery. Oh, and back pain too. What the heck is going on? Is it all downhill after 30? Someone should've warned us. By the way, I don't think you can claim Team Chunks membership, you get the size-eye from them because you're not as big as they are. Don't be surprised if one of them snatch that membership card from you! LOL!
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