Cold Beer - Colder Bitch

I went to the local sports bar to watch the Bengals-Steelers game yesterday. I had every intention of sitting alone at a table, sipping beer from the bottle, and cheering my boys on. I wore my OchoCinco jersey and jeans and had my "wish a motherfucker would" face on. I found a table and was prepared to enjoy my evening.

That wasn't going to happen.

I wasn't there ten minutes when a guy approached my table (wearing a Roethlisberger jersey to boot). He asked if I was alone to which I replied yes. He then asked if I wanted company to which I replied not really. He pulls out a seat and sits down anyway. He goes on to say I probably wouldn't want to be alone after we (the Bengals) lost and he was there to offer a shoulder to cry on. I was about to punch him dead in his damn nose when he offered to buy my drinks.

Sold.

The guy was cute, but the conversation was not. All he talked about was himself and how hard his life had been. Needless to say, when the game was over, I got up to leave. He said "it looks like I'm the one who needs a shoulder to cry on" (his team lost) to which I replied yup. As I was about to leave he made the comment but I bought you drinks (thinking this would make me stick around a while). I told him that I didn't ask him to and that I don't hang out with losers. I blew him a kiss and left.

I hate when ignorant assholes think just because they buy you a few drinks, you owe them something. I think next time, I'll offer to buy their drinks if they leave me the hell alone.

Dear Miss Suzie

Received this email recently:

Miss Suzie
I have been married for a year and things were great up until now. My husband refuses to help out around the house anymore. All he does is sits in front of the computer or tv. I have three small children that I am taking care of and I don't need a fourth. You seem like you do a great job dealing with a-holes and I was wondering how you would handle my situation.
Signed
Can't take it anymore

My Response:

Dear Can't take it anymore
Let me guess: While your asshole sits in front of the television or computer, you are busy doing all the things you have to do -- laundry, dinner, cleaning, etc.? You don't bother him and continue to busy yourself around the house and children? You have dinner on the table every night and your house stays tidy? Am I right?

Grow some labia!

Here's what you do: When you do laundry, only do yours and the kids. Allow his laundry to pile up in the corner of your bedroom where he'll be sure to see it. When you fix dinner, only do so for you and your children. For added bitchiness, you can even set him a place at the table, but do not have food available for his plate. When he finally asks what the hell is going on, repeat these words:

It is apparent that you no longer feel the need to help out around the house, so I suggest you ask your dear computer for some help. Perhaps you should google how not to act like a complete jackass in a marriage.

Then go have a girl's night out -- you deserve it.

Dude, Where's My Car?

Those of you who know about Dick, knows he likes to fuck with me (that sounded bad on so many levels). Anyway, last night was no different. I'm sitting on the couch, minding my own business and attempting to watch a movie when my phone starts beeping -- texts from Dick. I ignored the texts for over an hour and then the phone rang.

At first, all I could hear was loud music. After saying hello twice, I was about to hang up. Dick then makes some comment about being at a strip club and hung up in my face.

Oh no he didn't!

Refusing to just "let it go" like my family and friends have been pleading for me to do, I threw on my shoes and grabbed my keys. I knew which club he was at (the same one he always goes to), so I was there in less than twenty minutes. Spotting his truck, I parked near it. Making sure he or any of his friends weren't around, I quickly got into his truck and drove several blocks down the street. I parked his truck and walked back to my car in which I jumped in and quickly drove home.

I slept well last night knowing that when he came out of the club and discovered his truck was gone that he'd be pissed. I slept well knowing that he probably had to call a cab to get back to wherever he was staying. I slept well knowing that I forgot to lock his truck and by the time he found it, everything would be missing.

The moral of the story: Never fuck with a bitch who still has keys to your car.