When I was about seven or eight, my dad brought home a beautiful Golden Retriever puppy. I remember he had huge brown eyes and long wavy hair that was the color of autumn. Like most innocent children my age, I loved Dr. Suess, so I decided I would name the puppy something ridiculous: Sam-I-Am. Sam seemed like any adorable Golden Retriever. Loyal, beautiful, American as hell… but Sam also developed a trait that we didn’t know about: psycho-serial killer.
Recently my friend and amazing photographer, Ryan Flynn, took these boudoir pictures of me sort of looking a little dead, but still pretty sexy! She described the shoot as a “high-fashion, gothic look,” so I was totally down to play when she asked me to be her model (you just have to let the genius work sometimes).
She asked me to go to the store and supply her with:
An inflatable pool, gold spray paint, fake eyelashes, and a crap ton of makeup.
I gathered the supplies and got to the checkout counter, where the total amounted to about $35. Not too bad, huh?
The bra-let was $35 from Urban Outfitters and the bottoms were on sale for $2. AWESOME.
When I got home, I spray painted the pool and knew that Ryan would be freak-a-leeking, when she saw how great it turned out. I carried pales of water back and forth through the house, and then got tired and quit. I hoped it would be enough for her. Always aiming to please. My arms hurt from inflating the pool with a bike pump, but at least they might look toned for the shoot. They still looked like noodles the next day.
I woke up at the butt-crack of dawn due to the excitement that I was feeling about being model for the first time. I waited all day in my skimpy outfit for Ryan to come over and do my makeup.
Eventually, she made her way to my house at around one, carrying loads of equipment. She sat down, staring at me like Michelangelo stared at the blank ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. “Let us begin,” she creepily murmured. The whole time she was doing my makeup, she seemed to be in some other world. She would giggle, then pause, then evil giggle, then pause, then frown, then wipe a smudge from my face, and then giggle. I couldn’t really tell if she was happy or sad, but I knew that she was a creative genius, so I didn’t ask questions.
“Done. You can look in the mirror.” I looked in the mirror in astonishment. I looked like a beautiful…drag queen! I had so much makeup on, it was shocking to even look in the mirror. “Don’t worry, just trust me. It’ll photograph awesome!”
Ryan and I got to work immediately. She pretty much directed me to do everything. I started closing my eyes because the sun was blinding me. “JUST KEEP DOING THAT!” She took several photos and then looked back on a few in the shade. “URGHHHH!!!!” she grunted in delight, “these are SO GOOD!”
We stayed in the pool for awhile and then moved to my staircase outside. To my despair, my nightmare came true. The whole time I had feared that my neighbors would come home and see me and think I was a giant weirdo. They did and they did. The hipster couple pulled up and sort of stared at me and her for awhile, awkwardly pausing, and then looking at each other. They sort of smiled and headed inside. I was mortified, but we carried on a bit longer. “Great,” I thought. Now my neighbors knew what I pretty much looked like in my underwear.
We got back inside the house and looked at a few. I was shocked at how well they turned out! We could barely pick which ones we wanted her to edit. Here is the rest of them!
For photography inquiries, email Ryan at email@example.com.
Bitch. What a beautiful word. I’ve been called a bitch a lot. And by a lot, I mean pretty consistently. People make the assumption that I’m a bitch because I’ve always challenged them to think a little harder than they want to. I used to teach history to undergraduates. They would absent-mindedly state their opinions in their essays and without hesitation, I would always write, “Why?” I told my students to ask themselves why they thought a particular way, until they couldn’t answer the question anymore.
My hometown of Cullman, Alabama, recently underwent a series of laughable anti-gay protests. One anti-gay rally member angrily remarked in her thick southern accent, “I wonder if the people who are for same-sex marriage have read the Homosexual Manifesto, which basically states that we aren’t going to be happy until we have all of your sons homosexualists.” I haven’t read the Homosexual Manifesto, but I totally want to now. I imagine it to be like the Communist Manifesto, except a lot gayer. I would hate to be this woman’s son, whom I’m willing to bet is 900% gay. I only say that because she continuously seems threatened and fearful of her teenage son’s sexuality. I can imagine this woman finding gay porn on his computer and him being like, “Mom, I promise it isn’t what it looks like! One day this mysterious book showed up at our house called the Homosexual Manifesto. I couldn’t resist reading it because it had these magical gay powers, so I read it and now I’m gay. I’m so sorry. I’ll never be gay again!” Imagine being liberal-minded in an environment like this. Automatic Bitch 2.0 for even believing that the heterosexual normative should be challenged. I’m such a bitch for leaving that place and moving to Nashville. I sometimes think of myself as the character from The Magic School Bus, who would always say, “At my old school,” except I replaced it with my “old town.” At my old town, people weren’t openly allowed to be themselves.
Beyond being a liberal bitch, I can also be very quiet and I have an extremely dry/morbid sense of humor. I’m aggressive and I have a lot of drive. Everything I’ve ever wanted to happen, I’ve made it happen. That’s just the kind of person that I am. I have a very “get shit done” attitude. I don’t let people walk all over me and when they do, my tone of voice gets sharp. My demeanor is serious when I’m working. I naturally look harsh; with long dark brown hair and eyes that are so dark they look black. I like wearing red lipstick and I dress edgy. Let’s face it – being a bitch was inevitable for me.
When I tried to be the sweetie-pie, girl-next door, it felt/looked all wrong. That’s because I can’t play that role. It makes me cringe. I don’t identify with it. If that’s the woman that you are, then that is just who you are, but I’m tired of being expected to be that woman. Because I’m not that woman. I’m a bitch. People project an identity upon you, whether you like it or not. I’m fine with being a bitch because I know what it means to me. Call me a bitch and I’ll probably smile and take it as a compliment, just like you’d expect a bitch to do.
When I was in graduate school, I listened in on a conversation that a guest speaker (one of the history professors) had with a class of undergraduates. This professor was known for lighting a fire under people’s asses, often leaving comments on papers that read “What the f*ck is this? Rewrite.” He was straightforward, a little arrogant, and a phenomenal writer. No one ever questioned what was on his mind, because he let you know. He was what I like to call… well, he was a bitch. He was a straight man and he was the biggest bitch I’ve ever met.
Most of the people sitting in on that class were completely uninterested in what the professor had to say. I was zoned into my bitch. Bitch-to-bitch, I know I was listening harder than anyone else in that room. He was talking about being yourself and knowing what you are good at. He advised the students to, “Find a job that makes you happy. F*ck what your parents think. This is about you. Do something you are good at and that you like. I’m a good writer, so I picked a job where I could write the books I wanted to and if people didn’t like it then, whatever.” As a man, he understood what it was like to be a bitch, but he would never understand what it was like to be a woman and be a bitch. When you are considered a bitch as a woman, it is a negative thing. When a man is a bitch, he is assertive and playing into his masculine role. He might get called a dick if he is lucky, but he’s never a bitch… well, unless he is gay.
To all my bitches: just be you. It took a long time for me to realize that this was who I am and that playing another role isn’t going to work for me. It took two years of graduate school for me to realize that I wasn’t a “bitch,” but that my personality consisted of dominant characteristics that men are supposed to have. Know your inner bitch, if that’s what you want to embrace. Know what being a bitch means to you. My point isn’t to be mean to people. If you are that type of bitch, then shame on you. What I’m trying to say is: never feel bad about who you are. Never feel like you should have to be something that you aren’t. If you aren’t Miss America, fan of babies and weddings, baker of home goods, and submissive lover, so what? Don’t ever let people talk down to you and always take up for yourself. Understand that just like being a housewife is a role, being a bitch is one too and if you are still kind-hearted, you can be a total bitch and people will still like you. Go read some Judith Butler and feel better about yourself. It’ll make you realize that this whole gender thing is sort of a scam any way. You can pick your gender role and you can have multiple ones simultaneously. I encourage women who feel out of place to do this, because you aren’t crazy and you aren’t alone. There’s bitches everywhere and they aren’t just women.
Hi everyone! Kate recently started blogging and her writing is AMAZING. We grew up together and used to write funny stories about a fictional character named Papa. We’ve decided to collaborate once again and start writing about Papa and his adventures, but for now, check out her hilarious short stories! This one is my personal favorite!
The three girls sat together in an open field. Kat hugged her knees. Her hair blew in the wind, straight as a board, reaching down her back.
“I can’t wait,” she said with a smile. The other girls agreed.
You see, today was a big day for these girls. It was the day. The biggest day of their recent lives. The most defining day of their high school careers.
Today, the girls tried out to be cheerleaders on the varsity cheerleading squad. Varsity! Last year, they weren’t old enough. They were junior varsity cheerleaders, and that was okay, because they weren’t allowed to be on the varsity squad yet. But this year… this year was different. This tenth year of their schooling, they would either become esteemed varsity cheerleaders… or tenth grade losers who had to cheer with the freshman. Indeed, this year would separate the women…
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You aren’t going to be able to control her.
Good luck trying to control a bitch. She’ll fly straight away if you make her mad, probably with her cute little demon-sized wings. I recommend not having any hot best friends because she is going to flirt with them so hard if you ever make her mad enough. She is a master at mind games, the player of players. You will lose at this game every time, I promise. She knows your weaknesses, she senses them. During the dating process, she was figuring you out – what makes you tick, what pisses you off, what makes you fall in love. By the time she is done with you, it is too late. She’s grown in power, thriving off of your weakness for her.
She’s gonna tell you like it is.
If you are being a little bitch about something, she will tell you. Oh, trust me, she will let you know. In fact, if you are doing anything that she doesn’t like, you’ll know. She’ll let you know by calling you a, “lil bitch,” “idiot,” “dumb ass,” or take a more creative approach like, “I’d rather makeout with a homeless man for five dollars than spend one more second in this car with you. Get out and walk home and then when you get home in three hours, you can apologize and I might forgive you if you are lucky.”
When you fight, you will be left wondering if your parents really did ever love you.
Bitches cut deep. They will say things that leave you wondering for days. Typical bitch conversation:
Bitch: “During Thanksgiving, your dad said he actually preferred me over you. That’s why he chose me for his Scrabble team. He knew we would win because I’m smarter than you are. That’s why we won.”
You: “Are you serious? He picked you because you are hot and he wanted to be creepy. That’s the only reason! And for the record, ‘Doug’ doesn’t even count as a word in Scrabble!”
Bitch: “Well it’s pretty funny that at age 50, your dad looks a hell of a lot better than you do. And ‘Doug’ is a word. I can’t help it that you and your mom suck at Scrabble. You are just pissed that we got triple points with ‘Aardvark.’ You know when your dad whispered in my ear and we started laughing and you asked us what we were laughing at and we started laughing even harder? Well, he told me that you used to piss your pants at night until you were 17.”
Don’t ever tell her that she is being a bitch as an insult.
There’s two types of bitches. Those who embrace being called a bitch and the girl who really isn’t so much a bitch as she is crazy. Crazy girl will be so offended by being called a bitch that you will not have eyes after this conversation. She will have clawed them out and ate them in front of you as a punishment. You will receive a claw mark across the face, a drink poured over your head, and a lit match to top it off. Your parents and loved ones will mourn for their loss and she will smile over your grave, proud of the work that she has done. Then she will leave your funeral with two of your best friends.
Drop all passive-aggressive attitudes at the door or she will break your penis in half.
Passive-aggressiveness is always a bad idea. If you are dating a bitch, you are going to have to reevaluate your method of fighting. Learn to just start off with an apology. Here are some examples of the right way to handle an argument with a bitch and the wrong way to handle an argument with a bitch.
Wrong way: “Look, Jennifer. I can’t help it my phone rang at three AM, what’s it to you any way? It was my sister. She needed a ride home.” “Wait, you want to see my texts? Well, how about you let me check through all your messages then? Doesn’t sound very fair, huh?” “OH MY GOD! MY PENIS, STOP!!! STOP!!! IT’S NOT SUPPOSED TO BEND BACKWARDS LIKE THAT! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP!!!!”
Right way: “Jennifer, baby, I am so sorry my phone rang and woke you up from your peaceful sleep. I think you were having a dream about a fluffy little kitten. You looked so sweet and you kept saying, ‘Come here, Mr. Kitten, we are going straight to the animal shelter to adopt you tomorrow!’ I think you were trying to subconsciously tell you that you wanted a kitten. Do you want a kitten, baby? Anything for you.” “Oh, it was just my sister, she needed a ride home, but she found someone else. There’s no way I’d leave you all alone in this great big bed. Now come here and let me be the Big Spoon!”
Basically, you have the decision of keeping your penis or not. You decide.
Compliment her if she spent time getting ready or you will have a date from hell.
If she spent more than an hour getting ready, you better make her feel like she is the most beautiful girl in the world or else that meal is going to taste like sorrow and broken dreams. I advise starting off with, “Damn! How did I get so lucky? You look amazing!” It’s always important to throw in a cuss word during a compliment. It seems more authentic and powerful. Do not say, “Holy shit you look like the greatest f*cking piece of a$$ I’ve ever had in my life.” One cuss word, tops. If you fail to give her a meaningful compliment, she will call you out. Practice in the mirror, remember that you are not scared and that she is only a person. You can do this, be brave.
You want to break up with her, but she’s so hot, though.
You really hate her and you don’t even know why you are dating her beyond the fact that she is the hottest girl you’ve ever seen in your life. She does that thing that you like and you can’t imagine that anyone else could possibly do that thing as good as she does it (whatever that thing is). There is no way that you will ever be able to score another girl of this magnitude. Your parents and friends are so proud of you and they still aren’t sure what she is doing with a loser like you. You wish that she’d be nice to you, but when she is nice to you, it scares you. It terrifies you. It makes your butthole clench up in fear, because you know something bad is coming. Not within the next hour, maybe not within the next day, but soon and very soon, the tempest will begin to rage. You will be a solitary figure on the beach hanging on to a palm tree, and she will be the 50 foot tidal wave approaching the beach, waiting to come crashing down upon you. Stay strong young soldier, love is a battlefield.
1. You are tired of feeling disappointed all of the time.
Not some of the time. All of the time. Tired of feeling a sense of disappointment from picking the wrong man to be in your life? Know that you are completely responsible for it? This isn’t an info-merical. This is real life. You are not only disappointed in him, you are also disappointed in yourself. There’s only one way to fix that, because you certainly aren’t going to fix him. Here’s a secret: let it go and give yourself the opportunity to be with someone who actually cares about you beyond your vagina.
2. You are smart enough to know exactly what is happening, but you still stay around.
You are under his power. The problem resides in the fact that you are giving him this power. If you stop seeing him, then guess who doesn’t have control over you anymore? You aren’t willing to do this though because you are afraid that he will forget about you. You know exactly what you are doing, but you don’t want to admit to anyone why you are doing it. You will call and tell your friends how much you hate what is going on, but you never seem to change. If he shows you the smallest sign of attention, you are back at it again. He is playing you like a damn fiddle. You are not a stringed instrument. Stop.
3. If he wears leather, has emotional issues, is in a band, or is an egotistical asshole, you are all in.
Feel free to customize the list, but these are the most prevalent reoccurring themes. Some bad boys appear to be super nice guys. I know the binaries of bad boys and nice guys are really much more complex, but generally speaking, it isn’t difficult to tell whether or not a man has terrible intentions with you.
4. You wonder why you just can’t find a really nice guy.
Answer: because you aren’t into someone who actually treats you like a normal person. You are a bit of a sadist when it comes to relationships. You like the drama that comes with a bad boy. Nice guys are bland and seem like they only want to get to know you. You hate the small talk and boring conversations. You want thrill, excitement, the highs and lows. You want someone who takes you on motorcycle rides. Nice guys only give you a stable medium.
5. You know that this isn’t the type of person you want to date, but you want to date them any way because it is almost like a challenge.
The people’s core personalities never change. I really believe that. Things about you might change, but if you are an asshole through and through, that won’t change. Don’t date guys who you know are douches. They won’t change for you. The are completely selfish and unaware of your feelings.
6. You go on dates with a plethora of men, but nothing changes. You still want the guy who is a dick to you.
You can try and try to date men who are vying for your attention, but you want the one who isn’t. It seems to mean something more when he does give you a call. What it really means is that you were on his list of girls to call for the night and you just happened to be the one that picked up. You were the one who wasn’t sick of putting up with his shit. You make up excuses for him, you try to make his actions seem logical. You tell yourself a lie that you really start to believe. It’s kinda sad. Actually, no, it is really sad.
7. You are smart enough to know that you are stupid.
As my best friend and I discussed her love for bad boys, she said: “There are two plots of land and I’m looking at both of them. One area is the most beautiful meadow, filled with all these different amazing flowers. There are so many to pick and all I have to do is decide which one I want. Then there is another area of land located in an industrial park. There are five “flowers,” which are more like weeds, sitting right beside a manufacturing plant. The flowers are dying and ugly. I begin to run as fast as I can to this meadow, literally pushing people over to get to these flowers so that I can save them and make them beautiful. I completely ignore the beautiful meadow, because… who cares? That meadow doesn’t have issues and this one needs more attention.” If this situation seems familiar then you know what I’m talking about.
8. You come to the realization that you like bad boys because there is something wrong with you.
The problem lies within yourself, whether it is a lack of respect for yourself or the belief that you aren’t good enough for a guy who treats you right. You are also a bit impatient and unwilling to wait to find that person. Bad boys are a temporary fix. They aren’t deep, they aren’t complex. They just want you for their own selfish purposes. Either to hook up with you or to make sure that no one else has you because you are their territory. Do yourself a favor and let the bad boy go. There are men out there who will not make you feel like shit as soon as you leave. You won’t feel a sense of impending dread with them. You will be able to tell that this person really does care about you because he shows you. Be patient and wait for this person. It might seem idealistic, but it is true. Stop abusing yourself with bad boys or men that even try to attempt to play this role. You aren’t going to be the one who changes him. People only change if they want to and you being under his command isn’t going to cause him to change.