Eureka! Women are bitches.

Despite being of average intelligence, I think I have an elevated sense of how the world works (i.e. common sense).  I have never operated under the assumption that anyone owes me anything.  I wear big girl panties and take responsibility for myself.  People who chronically play the victim card make me sad.  That shouldn’t imply that I am against a little healthy complaining from time to time.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Plus, sometimes I just like to bitch about things.  It seems to come naturally, and I tend to embrace my strengths.

That said, I had an epiphany the other day intra-quibble.  It was really more like a mind blowing, punch you in the gut realization that came out of nowhere and from the most unlikely source.  His candid response after listening to me whine endlessly about current life obstacles (i.e. my inability to form a meaningful connection with anyone willing and/or capable of throwing me a goddamn bone) and other small, yet loosely related annoyances, “Women are bitches.”

He was trying to comfort me in his own special way.  He didn’t wink or anything.  Just sat there drinking his beer without a care in the world as if he had just told me the sky is blue.

What a dick. 

I spent the next several days obsessively analyzing his asshole comment in a sad attempt to form some sort of an intelligent rebuttal for when our paths would cross again.  In doing so, I began to reflect on my past and present relationships with the female sort in a wide variety of contexts.

Here’s the thing.  I came up with nothingN O T H I N G.

I was perplexed.  I decided to take a walk and clear my head.  How can this be?

In the midst of my conundrum, a small plane flew in from out of nowhere, did a goddamn loop de loop in the big blue sky directly above my head and proceeded to artistically spell out for all the world to see…

 “All women ARE bitches.” 

Eureka!  And Fuckin-A!

Finally!  An elementary answer to every simple and/or complicated question ever posed in the history of history.  How did I not see this?  All of a sudden, everything made sense and I felt a quiet calm take over my body as my brain began to connect the obvious dots and draw the exact same conclusion in less than one minute.

Settle down ladies.  It’s going to be okay.  Bitches can still be awesome.  Clarity changes nothing.  It just removes the bullshit from the equation.  Besides, there is obviously a bitch continuum.  All bitches are not created equal.

Here’s the breakdown.

The Bitch Bitch.  She’s the real deal.  She knows she is a bitch, and everyone else in the world agrees.  She doesn’t even have to speak.  You just know.  Walk away.

The She Means Well Bitch.  She utilizes her inner bitch to stand up for the slightly weaker bitch forms.  She is no match for the big dogs, but she means well, hence the name.

The Crazy Bitch.  Is she crazy because she’s a bitch, or a bitch because she’s crazy?  That’s a thinker.

The Mean Bitch.  She takes being a bitch to a whole new level.  The world probably needs her to a certain extent, but not sure why.  She sucks.

The Nice Bitch.  My mom.  Nicest woman in the world, but do not piss her off.  For real.

The Martyr Bitch.  This bitch thinks she has a higher purpose and truly believes that her bitchiness will in some way come back to benefit the entire bitch population someday and thereby earn her a spot on the Bitch Wall of Fame, which obviously doesn’t exist, but you can tell her that.  I’ll be over there.

The Fun Bitch.  You really want this bitch to be your friend.  Especially if you yourself do not fall under this highly desirable category.  You need her to help you channel your own bitchiness into something more positive and exciting.  She is the bitch I aspire to be.  Sigh.

The Smiling Bitch:  This smug bitch even smiles in her sleep.  It’s unnatural.  Do not trust her.  She’s up to something.

The Married Bitch.  “Till death do us part.”  Enough said.

The Sarcastic Bitch.  This bitch holds a special place in my heart.  I ❤ her.

The Exercise Bitch.  Newsflash.  Everyone’s going to die someday.  Maybe take it down a notch.

The Behind the Scenes Bitch.  This bitch appears sweet and innocent on the outside, but you do not want to turn your back to her.  She will cut your throat at the first perceived threat, real or not.  I got my eyes on those bitches.

The “I Can’t Help It” Bitch.  Nope, she can’t.  Moving on.

The Know it All Bitch.  This bitch knows everything.  Just ask her.

The Princess Bitch.  Her highness is above manual labor, seeks immediate gratification, smells like sugar, demands frequent compliments from her subordinates, and is very fond of the color pink.  I think I may have given birth to one of these bitches.  Time will tell.

The Perfect Bitch.  This bitch makes a list of the lists she has to make.  She’s got all of her ducks in a row and has a rotating schedule for her aprons.  She also wakes up in the morning with minty fresh breath.

The Stylish Bitch.  I don’t know how this bitch does it, but she can pull off the Canadian tuxedo accessorized with a macaroni necklace, a banana clip, green crocs, and look fucking cool while doing it.  She also has a closet reserved for small handbags.

The Messy Bitch.  This bitch thrives on chaos and laughs if her kid gets sent home from school with lice.  She doesn’t sweat the small stuff and reuses her bath towel several days in a row.  She despises the Perfect Bitch, and vice versa.

The Martha Stewart Bitch.  Wanna know how to fold your fitted sheet into the shape of an owl or learn how to make an ornamental cupcake that also tastes delightful out of soap?  She’s your gal.

The Pretentious Bitch:  She values her own opinions immensely.  She exaggerates her importance and attempts to impress by using complicated words incorrectly and out of context.  She spends a great deal of energy trying to convince other bitches she is more successful and smart.  She reapplies her lipstick a lot in an effort to really drive home her nonexistent point.

The Youthful/Sexy Bitch.  This bitch wears her perfectly fitting tight yoga pants and sports bra to the grocery store to buy three bags of Doritos and a 12-pack of Coke while the entire store population (men and women) dreams of taking her to bed.  Bring the chips.

The Old Bitch.  Been there, done that.  She’s earned her badge.  Now unwrap that bitch a butterscotch.  She’s fucking royalty.

The “I Wish I Wasn’t a Bitch” Bitch.  No one likes a cry baby.  Shut the fuck up.

The Drunk Bitch.  This bitch will get you arrested.  Something about the combination of alcohol and years of suppressing her inner bitch demon makes this bitch someone you do not want to have to drive home after an all-nighter at the VFW.  Call that bitch a cab.

The “Holier Than Thou” Bitch.  I’ve seen it in every phase of my life.  For some reason, this bitch immediately brings the Bitch bitch out in me regardless of the circumstances.  Watch your own bobber girlfriends.  Jesus and I are cool.  And even if we weren’t, you bitches would be the last bitches I’d call.

The Enthusiastic Bitch.  She seizes the day, everyday.  She loves life even when it sucks, which is admirable, yet slightly obnoxious.

The Feminist Bitch.  Women are applauded by this bitch for calling her a bitch and men are hung upside down by their balls in the middle of Town Square for nonverbally maybe sort of suggesting it.  She’s hard to be around, regardless of your gender.

The Antithesis Bitch.  She’s in there somewhere.  Tick tock. 

The Victim Bitch.  This bitch thinks that I am picking on her right now.  She believes I’m trying to send her a hidden message and will be extremely offended as a result.  Ho hum.

The Competitive Bitch.  You’re better off just letting this bitch win.  It’s not worth it.  Good game.

The Problem Bitch.  A first cousin to the Competitive Bitch, this bitch wins the blue ribbon for one upping everyone else’s past, present, and/or future predicaments.  If you have a hang nail on your big toe, she has gout.  If your kid gets grounded, her kid gets arrested.  If you buy a bad banana, this bitch will purposely toss it to the ground, slip on it, and make you drive her to Urgent Care for stitches.  I got one less problem without this bitch.

The Literal Bitch.  This bitch will read this post and deduce that I am a swinger who has no friends and hates Jesus.  She will be disgusted by the above reference to my daughter’s bitch tendencies (poor innocent thing), and offer several parenting suggestions.  She will be appalled that I called my Mom a bitch and assume that we are estranged as a result.  She will pray for me and probably write a comment under the name, Anonymous Angie, stating in no uncertain terms that the world would be better off without bitches like me. 

The “I’m Not a Bitch” Bitch.  Yes you are.  Trust me.

Personally, I like to think of myself as the Eclectic Bitch, deriving ideas and style based on a diverse range of criteria from the entire bitch continuum.  What can I say, I am a social chameleon.

In a perfect world, we would all grab a beer and hug it out in a group effort to form the nonexistent “Happy Bitch” faction.

But we won’t.  Because the sky is blue and we are bitches.

Every damn one of us.

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2 responses to “Eureka! Women are bitches.

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