Caterwauling

To quote my friend quoting “Idiocracy,” “Ow, my balls.” And from the fact that we’re walking around bowlegged, ow, my ASS!!!

iPhone 8-gig model listed at $399

The early adopters in my office will be busy rubbing aloe on our burning assholes from Steve Jobs’ 3,000-mile-long dick that somehow got implanted in them. Thanks, Steve. You can’t put a fucking laptop on sale (lord knows I’ve been waiting), but the iPhone wasn’t out two months before this sale.

I feel so violated. *cowering in corner, sobbing for innocence, and $200, lost*

I’m looking for a paper bag to breathe into because I’m about to pass out.

I need a vacation more than oxygen itself. I want a new car.

But for the first time in my life, I have a savings account. And I like that security.

But …

When I wasn’t working a few years ago, the credit card companies refused to talk to me about my hardship. They said they wouldn’t try to make arrangements until I started missing payments. Hahaha — I showed them. I stopped paying EVERYTHING.

And who the hell can get back into the groove of paying when you’re barely making it anyway? What, give up what little luxuries I do enjoy to pay bills to people who didn’t care that I was about to be living on the streets, just so long as I paid my 22% interest on those groceries?

Anyway, Citibank has been following me around and calling about 70 times a month and spending more on postage than I owed on my card. Finally — finally — they came up with a 50%-off offer from my balance (about $1,000 of which is interest from AFTER I STOPPED PAYING). And I said sold — I’ll take it.

I just cleaned out my savings and paid the three-year-old bill. Whew. Oh my god, I’m so broke, it isn’t even funny. But to have that thick, dry dildo removed from my asshole? Priceless. My va-jay-jay is no longer painin’ over that dilemma.

Sure, I still need a vacation and I don’t have any emergency money. But I’ll earn more — I just have to figure out how to spend less when I don’t spend all that much in the first place.

Anyway, I don’t know whether to shit or go sailing right about now; I would, however, like to crawl into a fetal position under my desk and suck my thumb for awhile. But if this bullshit doesn’t help my fucked-up credit score, nothing will, and that’s the only reason why I did it. The new car can wait until the duct tape stops holding this one together, right?

I’ve refrained from blogging about squeak toys, although I seem to meet them all the time.

A “squeak toy” is Sabre’s word for the variety of bubble-headed bimbettes we come across who get an “9.5” for the hair flip and the high-pitched giggle but a negative score when it comes to mastery of English, abstract concepts or just plain fuckin’ sense.

The original squeak toy, I remember not (completely) because of her yellow polka-dotted high heels and Daisy Dukes, but for the fact that her boyfriend had such a hard-on at the party that he was trying not to visibly cringe every time she emitted a squeak that made us all look at him with pity.

I know, I wish I were dumb and pretty myself. I admit it. I’d probably be too oblivious to the world to actually care about it. In fact, I was watching Fox News Channel (*stabs out eyes with pen, hangs self with iPhone charger*) yesterday, and they announced that a new study says men choose beauty over personality in the opposite sex.

Um, DUH.

Glad to see Fox is just as adept at making up news as ever. The world hasn’t yet gone mad.

The thing is, I guess I think dumb is ugly. Or, at least, most of these chicks aren’t cute enough to be airheads. I mean, I’ve had to define more fourth-grade vocabulary words so that they could participate in the grown-up conversations to last me a lifetime.

Case in point: I was in the purse aisle at one of my favorite stores, and this dumb bitch and her dumber-bitch daughter — who was about 22 or so — were looking for a new purse. Now, Baby Airhead knew a Michael Kors bag on sight, but she wasn’t impressed by it. In fact, in her words, “I am mediocred by everything.”

*eyeroll* *headslam*

Dear “thinkerbelle”: You might be pseudo-cute to look at (and that’s stretching it, to be perfectly honest, as your mouth hanging open did nothing for me), but that will fade soon enough. And the idiots who pick you over the smart girls may never be smart enough themselves to see past the tips of their dicks, but we won’t feel bad for them when they wake up and realize they could have done better.

Hopefully by then, the rest of us smart girls will have found someone to stimulate our brains, although if these guys have been spending their lives not having to kill themselves to make conversation with the likes of you, no wonder none of us can find our intellectual equivalents. Thanks for dumbing down the population, one conversation at a time, and perpetuating the stupid genes. …