Tube Steaks and Bitchy Cows.

I'm sure it's common knowledge to everyone that a guy will whoop out the jello jiggler if there is a remote chance that they'll be getting some poontang out of it. However, I'm here to tell you that this fact isn't ENTIRELY true. Back in college we (Hi Mary And Belinda!) learned that guys will whoop it out for ANYTHING even when sex isn't remotely possible. We stumbled onto our scientific project by accident, as we jokingly hollered at a couple guys to whoop it out for my friend Mary's video camera. When all SEVEN of them did it with no questions asked, we were intrigued and asked ourselves.."hmmm...I wonder how many..???"
The vast volume of guys that wagged the willy for a bunch of strange girls in a public place were astronomical .. even AFTER informing them that we were videotaping strictly for kicks and they weren't getting any ill nana from ANY of us. Guys STILL whooped it out with groups of their friends, guys whooped it out solo, guys we rejected earlier at the club whopped it out for us later, guys whooped it out even though their purple headed yogurt shooter were no bigger than my little finger! (you can actually hear one of us choke back laughter on the tape as one guy "amazed" us with his attached pencil). Mind you, all of our in-depth male studies were documented in public parking lots of a club or bar, but even THAT didn't stop them from yanking their chain. My friend Mary still has that infamous "documentary" somewhere in her house. Movie showings are usually reserved for bachelorette parties or pretty much anyone who asks about it.. shiiit, we're not picky.. it's not US on the tape! Plus the director's comments are well informed, scientific and funny as hell.

Onto another story...

I refuse to give biatches anymore "second chances." I'm specifically talking about this skank I used to work with in Satan's Den. From the FIRST minute I met her, she was a effin' conch..the kind that no Lord Of The Fly wants to blow.... But I had to work with the obnoxious cow, so I made nice. Despite being a condescending snatch, who wore her clothes five sizes too small, (much to the joy of all her co-workers who had to witness "the eclipse" when she bent over to file her paperwork SEVERAL times a day,) she had her moments of normalcy and I thought her bitchiness had a lot to do with working for Satan. So I gave her a chance. I thought, she might really be a nice person deep down inside. I went out dancing with her several times and it was totally embarassing for all parties involved, except her. Her "going out" clothes were worse than her work clothes. The best description would be a roast beef (her ass) with a band aid on it (her skirt). I'm not even exaggerrating on how big this girl was (topping 180 CONSERVATIVELY) and how little her clothes were (size 5's)oh and she was about 5'2 tall. The worst was she walked around like her shit did not stink and bitched about EVERYTHING.

"It's too crowded in here"...(duh bitch you're at a club)..
"I can't believe that guy talked to me...(I couldn't believe it either, did you EAT him? Where is he??) ..
"It's hot in here. I'm hot" (might have something to do with the human blubber coat you're sportin' there chickadee).."
I'm hungry" (like hell you say. YOU'RE hungry??? no way.) ...
etc. etc. etc.

But I gave her yet ANOTHER chance and let her tag along with my friends and I to watch No Doubt in Las Vegas. I knew it was a mistake when the first thing the conch said when we pulled up to the hotel was,
"Where's the bell-boy? I never carry my own luggage!" (she had two bags).
I told her "Welcome to Never, now grab your bags and quit bitchin!" AND THAT pretty much set the tone for the weekend. We tried to discreetly take her to the mall and "suggest" club attire, (IE: cover YO big ASS biatch).. but NOOOO, she had her quote "hoochie outfit" ready. It was such a terrifying sight that my brain is refusing to remember the horror that I witnessed. When all of us wore our comfortable clothes for the drive up, she wore a tight baby tee that afforded a view of her attractive dunlap flap coming out of her shirt for the four hour drive. Her jeans were so tight that when she took them off at the hotel, the side seam from the jeans had left a RED MARK down her leg. When all of us wore flannel pjs, she busted out her "Chrissy Snow" ruffle nightie that barely covered the roast beef. She bent down in front of Debi at one point and I think Debi's eyesight is just NOW coming back into focus. Salami fitting fashions aside, she was a queen sized bitch to everyone, INCLUDING my friends whom she barely knew, the hotel bellboys, maids, waiters (which pretty much means that she had her share of loogy covered dinners!) and anyone else that dared crossed her Orca ass. The topper of all toppers was when she ruined a perfectly awesome "No Doubt" concert by claiming that her "blood sugar" had dropped and she was feeling faint. Meaning, the lazy cow didn't have her regular cheesebuger fried in bacon grease in the past half hour so she was starving. So we had to RUSH out of the venue and get the stay puff marshmallow girl her lard IV lest she lose weight or something. Unloading her fat ass back at her barn after the trip was one of the best moments of that trip and a relief on my Jeep's shocks.
NEVER AGAIN with being nice to bitches! NEVAH EVAH!

Phew. This was suppose to be random blog.. but I got all caught up in memories of co-worker bitches and wagging willies. So typical.