This has got to be the best fucking blog up in this bitch!

I think that all women should go camping in the woods while menstruating during bear season. This would be a great analogical learning tool for mood stabilization and social awareness. Think about it. You wouldnt just throw the scent of blood around the camp with reckless abandon. That would be utter suicide. Using that rationale because it’s mine and I always rule, it can be applied to the social dynamic of women on their periods. Much like camping in the woods a woman on her period should be sure to limit and regulate her bitch ass demenor.

     For you dumb asses I have made the following analogies so you can understand: 

Camping in the woods = Eating cheetos in your trailer home.

Scent of blood attracts bears = Chic has her period she superbitches non-stop.

Bear is attracted to blood scent and mauls everone in camp cause they are idiots. = Chic gets donkey punched in the colon for never shutting the f–k up.

Got it?

     Men should be more like bears when women menstruate. For instance: I was going to meet a girlfriend the other day after being detained from more serious matters like playing video games and reloading ammo. So we’re driving around going to this party. I simply asked her to make a left turn, then she suddenly flipped out about being controlled. 

     I said, “Just make a left turn here.” 

     “YOU’RE SO CONTROLING!”, she bellowed.

     “…But that’s where we needed to turn.” 

     “YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME, F–K YOU, PATRIARCH!”, she screamed in her loud shrieking demonic cackle. 

     I knew she was on her period because she left blood soaked coo-corks and super-absorbing military field dressings in every trash can in the house. So I immediately jammed the lit car cigarette lighter in her eye repeatedly as I laughed like a pirate. I’m not about to put up with that kind of shit from any bleeding bitch.

     Sometimes you have to be the bear.

My 10 Simple Truths:

1. I’m not emo or scene. If I was, I would’ve killed myself a long time ago; because that’s no way to live.

2. I don’t want to see your tits. Or your ass. If you’re showing them off, I’m probably going to make the assumption that you are a slut - and if I wanted a slut, I’d still be with my ex. P.S.: There are some exceptions to this rule, I base it solely on my discretion.

3. Small talk sucks, unless you’re a good friend. Honestly, I couldn’t care less how your day went. Go make a whiney blog and let some simpering douchebag that wants in your E-panties console you. He doesn’t mind, really - he’s sensitive.

4. I like kittens and/or puppies, insofar as liking them will help me score with you.

5. I hate the words ‘no offense’, and you’ll never hear me say them. Because if I’m insulting you, you’re damn right I want you to be offended, asshole.

6. When guys say they like ‘you’, by ‘you’, they really mean ‘breasts’. Or ‘beer’.

7. God didn’t invent a vagina just to have it wasted with frivolous anal sex.

8. If Paris Hilton is any sort of role model to you…I don’t like you. No exceptions. Unless you ARE Paris Hilton, in which case: “F— you”.

9. Send me your nudes. Note that participation in my ‘Send me your Nudes’ charity drive hereby grants the participant full immunity to aforementioned Simple Truth ..2. Thank you for your support.

10. A breakdancing robot would be awesome.

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