Blogging From Bed
So, yeah. okay. dish. Today, a friend of mine was driving along the highway minding her own business when some cuntola tried to sidle into her lane without signaling. She was going 55, and had to act quickly, you know how you do. She honked. Not long, not loud, short and quick. The lane stealing snatch called her fehatty. Fehatty! She's not fat. Chuvvy, yes. STILL. That's not really the point. Here is the point in my humble opinion when I've been called fehatty. It makes me feel soooo bad. As if fehatty-name-calling-snatchcookie called me the following one-liners: Stupid-fat-and-poor. Dirty-fuck-baby. And. Slovenly-bad-ass-wiper. It's okay to say fat. Chuvvy. Not a skinny minny. A chub on the low (meaning losing weight). Semi-Spheereena. Those I could live with. But, fehatty?! Ah, God, it's the worst. Cuntest updates from the Cuntessa (I cackle-snorted when I wrote that. Shame). I got the most di-viiiine PSA from the diva at PulpFriction . Her blog is so politicall...