I find myself laughing at the folks jumping about with glee, miniscule
trails of drool hanging from their kool-aid-stained lips, over their IQ
_finally_ breaking 3 digits.
My jaw goes slack in amazement, or perhaps
disgust to see a roving pack of frat boys all drowning in the same
Abercrombie&Fitch white tee and cargo pants (only $145.99 on sale!) that
mommy bought for them.
I smile, then, reminding myself that in a few
hours, drunken and sweaty, they'll be fucking their acne-faced gap
whores in a pool of puke!
I don't need words,
hands in the face, nor violence to be a bitch. Simply, they don't get to
exist in my world-- it's a privilege, not a right.
Yes! I want to read more from Real Life Heartless Bitches
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