Ya, ya. We all heard that bullshit phrase “imitation is the highest form of flattery”, but have any of you nincompoops taken a step back to analyze this statement for what it’s actually worth? Didn’t think so.

Every now and then, we all want to feel like we are being idolized by our peers (or any form of life, for the most of you). We like to feel that what we are doing is actually inspiring someone else to potentially follow in our footsteps or make attempts at it. However, there are those of you who become possessive of yourself…of your tangible self, that is. You begin to notice that you’re not the only one shopping at Forever 21 and more people own the blouse you bought. You begin to notice that as soon as you dyed your hair blonde, the “losers” started copying you and you weren’t “original” anymore so you dyed your hair to black and the cycle continued until you reached the colors of the rainbow. Point being, you thought you were the only one, then the world burst your sorry bubble. So, what would be the best way to remedy your aching ego? Of course! Tell everyone that you are flattered by their “imitation” of you! That’s a sure fire way to exude your “confidence” and portray your “apathy” towards those who find your style so appealing that they crave to duplicate it. Aww, so cute.

You’re pathetic. The life you lead is pathetic. The ideals you carry around in your unoriginal bag is pathetic. Your view of the world behind your non-prescription blue contact lenses is pathetic. You’re lack of creativity is pathetic. Yes. You lack creativity. You didn’t think of anything on your own, so why are you suffering from an enflamed anus at the thought of someone else getting ideas off of you? You can’t tell us you are flattered from their imitation of you because YOU’RE NOT!! You are having micro infarcts at every picture update on FB… at every check in’s to “your” restaurant that you supposedly discovered. You are dying a slow death because your body is shutting down with every broad you see rockin’ the same shit you have. Of course, you go on to say that you applaud their attempts at being you, but there can only be one you. Ho, read carefully:  there are plenty of you out there… unoriginal, xerox copies of one another. The broad that you are accusing of imitating you, is actually accusing you of the same thing. Surprise, sur-freakin-prise.

I like that I have no sense of style, otherwise I would probably be subjected to dumb broad chatter.

I don’t think the Louis Vuitton Company is overjoyed with flattery that Mai Ling in Taiwan can duplicate their bags down to the stitch. That’s annoying.

You know what is flattering? That when you make a bold statement, so daring, so innovative, so creative, that NO ONE CAN IMITATE IT.

THAT’S when you should be flattered.

Now would ALLLLLLLLL of you Slim Shady’s please just sit the eff down.

i love to sing. judge me if you want. i don’t care.

Here is an unconventional post. I usually am an asshole, but I think I am gonna try to be nice to you guys on this one.

I stumbled across this post on Facebook about Katie Kirkpatrick. One glance at her wedding photos made my heart crumble. Katie died from a terminal cancer only FIVE days after what is supposed to be one of the sweetest days of one’s life. I am not going to blog about her death, though. I am going to blog about her life… a life that I had no idea existed… a life that just was made aware to me only a few minutes ago… but I feel like I know Katie so well, so intimately, only from these six pictures that were provided to us. Katie woke up my soul again today, and I want to express my gratitude.

We prance through life like a bunch of pansy bunny rabbits, whining about the weather, whining about finances, complaining about the relationships we have. I am guilty as charged for all of the above (although I do make conscious attempts to diminish those poor qualities about me). However, we fail to look around us..I MEAN REALLLLLY LOOK AROUND US… we fail to see the people like Katie who live day by day… who take in each particle of life so consciously and so gratefully. Who, with a wheelchair, attend their wedding and enjoy the moment. Who, with an air tank, dance joyfully into the night even when they are out of breath. Who, with that fucking cancer lodged into their body, stare Death in the eye and say, “I will decide how I live despite your decision for me to die!”

I cry as I write this because I am so moved by Katie. I cry as I write this because I remember my own mother who, until the last moments of her life, never gave up hope. She never gave up on life, even though life gave up on her. What are you bitching about, you heifers? What has made you so numb to life? Why aren’t you moved? Why are you not making any changes RIGHT NOW? Are you waiting for a significant moment in your life to strike for you to start living? Like the hands of time that move atop each other to hit midnight and set you off on your supposed journey?

Katie knew she was going to pass away. She knew that time was near, but did that stop her from accomplishing her goal(s) in her life? Did she look like a sad and depressed woman to you? She didn’t debilitate her soul, even though her disease debilitated her body. She didn’t become upset because her party favors didn’t turn out how she wanted. She didn’t bitch and complain because her dress caught the wheel of her wheelchair and tore. She didn’t fold her arms and pout because her florist ruined her flower arrangement. Don’t be petty. There are matters in life not worth to worry over. Take example from those who are hanging onto life by a thread.

Katie LIVED it up on her wedding day…She LAUGHED all throughout the night… She LOVED with all her heart and her love transcended time.

Katie transcended time.

Rest in peace, angels. Your love is safe with me.

<3 Mom, Katie, & Loved Souls.

I have to admit, I admire people who know how to apply make up. I also admire clowns that know how to apply clown make up. However, I loathe people who do not work at a circus and apply clown make up.

Seriously, lady. Blue eyeshadow need be used sparingly (if at all!).

You go to a bank, you’re teller looks like Mimi Bobeck (Kathy Kinney). What do you do? Do you concentrate on your deposit or do you proceed to stare at her hopeless display for attention? Is she asking for attention, though, or is she trying to hide behind the Toucan-Sam of a face she has created? Who knows? Continue with your deposit and move forth.

You go to a grocery store on a Wednesday afternoon. You see a lady who has substituted her lips for a baboons ass. It looks good, if you’re into kissing ass. Cutes.

You go to a car wash. You look around and feel bad that you left your evening dress at home and didn’t have enough time to do your hair. You ‘sigh’ because your chances of landing the guy with the rented Bentley are slim to none what with all this competition and shit.

Later that week, you go to a fancy party at a banquet hall only to run into Mimi Bobeck, Baboon Ass Lips, and all the other broads at the car wash (one of them in particular who managed to land the “rented Bentley” guy…) all looking exactly the same as earlier that week.

Here is what I am ranting about, in case your brain hasn’t caught up yet: girls who wear excessive, heavy, and ridiculous make up on a daily basis.

Why do you do that to yourself? Who is that imbecile you have managed to impress that one time in your life who complimented your dumbass and led you to believe that the bondo on your face looks good? I wanna kick that imbeciles ass. Unfortunately, I do not have enough feet.

I honestly once asked a girl in high school why she wears so much make up? She said, “I like the fake look” (I don’t remember who it was, but if you remember telling me this, then sorry it was you). Funny thing, the fellas seemed to agree. Hmm. Here I was, thinking that the “natural” look was the desired look… but I guess the joke was on me. Sighhh…..

I wear make up. I am not the best at it, but I manage to boost my self esteem and my eyelash length at the same time without looking like a circus freak. I am not better than you cuz I am prettier than you without a lot of make up on (smirky wink face), but c’mon girls…… you have replaced your confidence for blush… you have subsituted your self-esteem for foundation… your concealer is literally concealing who you are… you don’t allow your true self to shine through because your god damn pores are so god damn clogged. The wet nap is your friend. It will relieve you of your excessiveness. It heals the world and makes it a better place, for you and for me and the entire human race (RIP Michael Jackson)… just kidding on the last part, but you understand what I am saying, don’t you?

You feeeeeeellll me don’t you?? No??… I wouldn’t feel shit with that 3 inch bondo on my face, either.

One day, this precious little girl was born. She grew up in a world where looks dominated personality; where naivete was preferred over cleverness; where conformity controlled the masses and independence was a sign of rebellion. She was weak. She did not overcome. She became one with the herd and lived a life of insecurity, rivalry, dependency, surreality, and shallowness.

We see this, still. Women who have devoted their life to being stupid.

Yes, I can say this confidently and if anyone begs to differ, keep begging.

How, in a world so advanced, can we still have women who are sheep instead of shepherds? Who eat what they’re fed just so they don’t cook? Who sleep because the only thing they can control are their dreams? Who “don’t know” because it is easier to not? Who can’t speak because they’ve chosen a life of silence just to be in solitude with their material wealth?

How can you agree to never have a voice? To never have a choice? To never run alongside boys? To be treated as pets and be rewarded with toys? To never be loud and instead just be coy?

All for what? For all things tangible? You make me laugh if you think that if your man buys you out, he is doing it because he “loves” you.  No, B. It ain’t that easy.

Ever consider that the lovely bag you have around your shoulder is nothing more than a ball and chain? Ever consider that he is trying to lock you down with the fancy, expensive shit that your broke ass could probably never afford on your own because you have managed to market yourself as if you are a Saudi Princess? Have you EVER bought your MAN a $3000 purse? No? Then what the f*** you doing EXPECTING him to buy you those things? This is just a small example of how I can’t stand you.

So, you don’t think it is important for you to further your education because your man has a business of his own, huh? That is so cute of you. Ya, because it is written in stone that your man is always gonna have his business/support your lazy ass/never leave you, etc. That sounds like a solid game plan you got there. Kudos.

So, you think if you say “yes babe” to everything your man says that he is going to love you  long time? I don’t know about that, B. I know that little boys want a submissive woman to push around, but a REAL MAN is gonna want more than a moan and groan in the middle of the night. There is nothing more exciting than getting into a deep conversation with your man, stimulating his mind and yours, disagreeing to the maximum degree, and standing your ground. This shows that you are a REAL woman who can hold her own down and also BACK YOUR MAN UP in case he ever goes through a shitstorm. If I am wrong, then I don’t want to be right. I can go on and on, but then your lazy ass would stop reading eventually and all my efforts will be futile.

If you think that I am saying you have to be a MAN, then you are an idiot.

I never said you can’t be a princess…. Just be a WARRIOR PRINCESS.

A lot of people who know me will know that I am the last person to give any kind of fashion advice. The thing is, I know that about myself, too.

However, this does not stop me from talking shit about YOUR supposed fashion sense… you’re freakin’ delusional if you think you have any.

Really. How am I supposed to take you seriously when you go spend your two weeks pay (assuming you have a job and don’t rely on daddy dearest) to buy something so incredibly ridiculous? Then, as if that isn’t bad enough, you think you scored so you have to share your new outfit with the world by posting it online for all of your ACQUAINTANCES  to see (cuz you know you don’t have friends… friends don’t let friends look like bags of douche in front of the rest of the world).

“Fashion statement this, fashion statement that…”  ……………………STFUUUUUU!!!!!! Just wear your horrendous clothes and let me be in charge of making statements about it!

Seriously though, the majority of these broads and douches who buy their outfits only base their shopping on one thing only: THE TAG. Rip the tag off and all you have left is cheap fabric from the textile factories in the heart of Downtown L.A. That’s where your clothes are coming from, anyway. I am just smarter than you and pay for the article of clothing itself, and not the tag that is stitched onto it.

WAKE YOUR ASSES UP! FREE YOURSELF FROM FUGLY “FASHION”!

Don’t be the victim of BRANDING, only to be made a mockery of…. BE YOUR OWN DAMN BRAND!

These Morons will make you thank the Higher Being of your choice that you are NOT one of these Morons.