I realize that I’m moving out in slightly less than a week (shit shit shit I need to pack what am I doing right now!), but it still upsets me that you are currently resisting me and faking me out every fifteen minutes or so. Because, I mean, it says that I’m connected to you (in more ways than one, you saucy minx), but you won’t load any of the pages that I open. And that makes me sad.
So, we play this little game, where you stop working, and I close and open my laptop very quickly, and you’ll be connected and working again for about fifteen more minutes, and then you’ll deny me. Again. I’ve got internet blueballs right now and you’re not helping.
Think of all the articles I could read! Think of all the movies I could watch! THINK OF ALL THE CAT PICTURES I COULD LOOK AND GIGGLE AT. (And also hedgehog videos, I love hedgehog videos.)
Seriously, I’mma need you to start working soon, or I’m going to do a crazy lady dance. I need to waste my time.
Sincerely,
(no really, I’m asking nicely, please please PLEEEEEASE)
Heinous Bitch
9 months ago
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0 notes
To some extent, I like you. Really, I do. You seem like cool kids. But when I wake up in the morning to the sounds of your squawking about the night before, I am less than pleased. Considerably.
And I’m even less pleased when, as I shuffle into the kitchen in my pajamas, you all fall conspicuously silent. I feel as if my every move is being monitored. (I just want my fucking coffee; will you stop with the whole observing me like a National Geographic specimen thing?)
So, in order to lighten the mood, I crack a joke: “Don’t mind me, I just live here.” The only response I get? Nervous giggles. All right, let’s try again. “Hi, I’m Heinous Bitch. I’m _______’s roommate.” Out of the ten of you clustered/piled around my living room/dining area (no really, we only have an “area” for dining, our apartment is so small), only one of you introduces yourself.
I go back to fixing my coffee. Then the whispers start. Is it really necessary for you to titter like grade school children when you think I’m not paying attention? Clearly it is. Nevermind that this is my fucking apartment too, and that you’re here by the grace of my roommates’ and my hospitality.
Kindly GTFO and take your sleeping bags and glow sticks with you. ALL OF YOU.
Sincerely,
Heinous Bitch
1 year ago
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4 notes
I know I’m not the most superior waitress in all of waitressdom. In fact, I’m probably in the bottom rung. But I have literally one other table right now, so I can afford to wait on you hand and foot and make you feel like the special little snowflakes that you are.
So why is it that when I open the checkbook you so charitably left lying in a dish of soy sauce I find that you’ve tipped me less than ten percent? Really? Really?
I don’t know if you knew this, but most all servers make less than minimum wage, because we rely on tips for our income. In fact, I make about $2.15 an hour, so unless I make good tips, I don’t make good money.
Don’t take this the wrong way - I mean, you could’ve not tipped me at all, but damn. Fifteen percent is the customary and appropriate amount to tip, especially when I am damn sure my service was excellent.
Maybe you just didn’t know. Maybe you’re just cheap assholes. Either way, don’t expect for your drinks to get refilled in a timely fashion the next time you eat here. I HOPE YOU GET PARCHED WHILE EATING YOUR SNOW CRAB ROLL WITH NO AVOCADO AND SOY PAPER INSTEAD OF SEAWEED PAPER YOU PERSNICKETY CUNTS.
Sincerely,
Heinous Bitch
1 year ago
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6 notes
I’ll keep this short and sweet:
Please begin to get easier sometime soon.
Heinous Bitch isn’t asking for an easy coast down a hilly lane. She’d just like something that isn’t a harrowing death ride down a narrow mountain road.
(Heinous Bitch also doesn’t know why she is suddenly speaking in the third person. Probably stress/trauma.)
Anyway, give thought to her request, maybe even grant it.
Thanks a million,
Heinous Bitch
P.S.: Don’t worry non-existent fans, the pure undiluted cuntness will return soon.
2 years ago
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0 notes
Your ear-splitting cries of petulance are grating against my temporal lobe. You have been (loudly) voicing your displeasure for about fifteen minutes now, seemingly without pausing for breath. I wonder if this is a talent that is particular to you, or one that is merely particular to all screaming troll-children. (Time will tell.) And even though I have no desire to be in Wal-Mart either, I do not choose to scream out my hatred at top volume.
I wonder exactly what it is that has caused you to so violently project your negative opinion of this shopping establishment. Is it the horrible fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look about ten years older? Is it the apathy of every salesperson who so listlessly drags your merchandise across the price scanner? Is it the omnipresence of sad hillbillies wandering aimlessly up and down the discount aisles? No? You want a Batman action figure and your mother has told you no?
Well I guess that’s just too fucking bad for you. Kindly shut up before I snatch you out of your mother’s grasp and smack the living hell out of you. You’re giving me a goddamn headache.
Fucking kids.
With love,
Heinous Bitch
2 years ago
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2 notes
I fucking hate you all. Specifically the male portion of the world’s population. I hope you get an STD and your dicks fall off. I also hope that you find the perfect girl who will reach directly into your chest cavity and rip your heart out blood vessel by blood vessel and then eat it. I hope you fall down a well. I hope all your progeny are born without internal organs.
I am made of hate right now, and completely unapologetic about it. Probably because I’m wasted and just walked home alone, pepper spray in hand. Also because males have made me the bitter, heinous bitch that I am. Fuck. You. All.
Sincerely,
Heinous Bitch
2 years ago
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2 notes
Sorry for the prolonged hiatus. Heinous Bitch was busy kicking puppies and swearing at old people. Enjoy!
Dear Summer,
You are a season of great joy for all of us who have chosen to make their mark on the hallowed walls of academia, because you offer us sweet succor after nine-or-so months of slaving over meaningless essays and kissing the asses of teachers who could give less of a damn. Naturally, you are a time that is much looked forward to. When we think of summer, we think of sun, sand, barbeques…and of course, fun fun fun galore, correct? We should be boozin’, smoozin’, and gettin’ wild under that summer sun. Right? Right.
BUT NO. So far, I’ve done some boozin’, yes, and definitely some totally inebriated smoozin’. But gettin’ wild? Having adventures? Definitely not. I haven’t even seen the fucking sun since I’ve left campus.
Instead, I have been working. Yes. Working. I have become but a mindless drone that hoards its wealth with little or no return. And summer, where were you when this was happening, hm? Outside, shining your goddamn happy little sun all over the place. Where is my sun? WHERE IS IT.
And where is the adventure you’ve promised me? Where is this mythical “summer fling/love/whatthefuckever” that you consistently advertise in movies and shows and commercials and everywhere I seem to turn my fucking head? I’m still looking for it. I’m open to some adventures. So if you could just drop one in my lap…? ‘Kay thanks.
Anyway. Start getting interesting, or…or…WELL DAMN IT I WILL BOYCOTT YOU. Now, excuse me while I stay inside and watch yet another episode of Six Feet Under.
Suck it, summer.
Sincerely,
Heinous Bitch
3 years ago
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1 note
(This particular letter is brought to you by who have had this particular problem and have allowed me to interpret their struggle in my own style. Enjoy!)
I have nothing against people with a hearing disability; that said, I would be a bit more forgiving of you if you actually had one. It appears, however, that you do have some difficulty in keeping your music at a reasonable level, or even wearing headphones. This in itself is somewhat forgivable, but the fact that you do this while I am either A) studying or B) trying to take a nap/go to bed for the night makes me want to punt a kitten. Or hit you in the face. Or break your speakers. Either/or.
So please, if you intend to continue interrupting my life in such an egregious manner, I suggest you do so at your own risk. Because we all know a heinous bitch just becomes that much more vicious when her sleep schedule and grades are at stake.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Heinous Bitch
3 years ago
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0 notes
After throwing numerous wrenches into my plans for the week, you have now decided to add insult to injury by testing the limits of my sanity. On second thought, maybe this move is not merely adding insult, but adding further injury as well. Adding injury to injury. And maybe sprinkling a little more injury on top of that Massive Pile of Injury sundae.
I have come to the conclusion that you are like a clingy boyfriend (with none of the benefits): you take up all my time and energy, and you get pissy when I am not paying you the attention you deserve. You then retaliate by giving me crappy grades, and I am left to beg your forgiveness for the next test and pray that you aren’t still angry with me. And what do I get for my pains? More work. And possibly more crappy grades.
At this point I am merely trying to make it through this most hellish of weeks (yes, I am still talking to you, finals week!) without pulling my hair out or drop-kicking a puppy. Because at this point, I am very capable of doing either/both of those things.
Kindly go by a little faster, please. Go by faster so that I don’t fucking kill myself.
Sincerely,
Heinous Bitch
3 years ago
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1 note
