I’ve made it all these posts without ever using the c-word. It ends today. If you dislike that word, avoid the last paragraph. You have been courteously warned.
I go through phases with the c-word. I’ll go months without saying or thinking it. Sometimes I forget it exists. Once it enters my mind again, every person or object that bothers me becomes one. It’s a beautiful word to say that makes everything feel better. I have yet to have the opportunity to call someone it to their faces in a non-Irish-Buddies kind of way. People in the UK toss that word around the same way American girls toss around “like.” It’s their verbal crutch. During nervous public speaking seminars instead of “umms” and “uhhs” it’s the c-word that fills those awkward pauses.
(What a diverse audience enjoying the C-Word)
Why now is it that I have chosen to address this issue? It’s because I now officially know the definition of the word. I remember in school that teachers would tell us not to use swear words because we didn’t know what they really meant. What third grader doesn’t know what those things mean? Ass is a synonym of butt, asshole is the hole in the ass where shit comes out of, shit is the stuff that comes out of the asshole which is located in the center of the butt, and fuck is what you might do to that asshole but only if there isn’t any shit there. A bastard is someone whose parents fornicated before getting married and a bitch is a girl who makes fun of someone for growing up as a bastard. And all bastards are bastards. If your parents were not married when they had you, you are a bastard who happens to act like a bastard. Does anyone get offended by the word bastard anymore? I hope not. If they do they’re a prick. And that’s another can of worms that I wish to not open.
The definition of a c-word some woman I met. I didn’t so much meet her as I muttered the c-word after she left. I mutter under my breath a lot. It keeps my face, my money-maker, in business. I’d surely be dead if I could not whisper or keep my thoughts to myself. I would have been strangled by the doctor as I was born. I thought he smelt weird. That was the first thing I ever muttered. A naked bloody baby thinking “Man, this Jew smells bad.” Do Jews deliver babies? I know they cure diseases, but I’m not that knowledgeable about birthing others. Don’t they have to have birth through a hole in a sheet? Or am I thinking of something else?
(That’s one gigantic finger or that’s going to be one tiny Jewish baby)
I was at Target grocery shopping. That’s not fair to say. I also had to pick up tooth paste, deodorant, and shaving cream. The last week or so I have been smelly and hairy. Scratch that. Smellier and hairier. This woman in particular seemed rather pushy. She had an “I own this place” aura about her. I tried to see how much blueberries were and she kept charging at me. So I backed up and didn’t get any delicious blue fruits. Then the race began toward checkout. It was a good while to there. I think they put the food so far away because some people go there only to buy food. They’re hoping you get distracted by something else like a crock pot or a Halloween card and buy that too. C-Word was distracted by something briefly then picked it back up again. Okay, I know there are no laws to this kind of stuff, but the way I see it is that if you pull back to look at something else, you’re conceiting victory. Apparently we have different laws of the department store.
I took a lead behind a weekend dad with his fat son. His son actually wasn’t fat. I just don’t know too many adjectives to describe children. His small son? His useless son? The convoy got to the checkout line and there seemed to be a problem. A foreign old woman was complaining about something. Probably had something to do with how they do things in Poland. C-Word snuck around everyone and swooped in front of me and another woman with her kid into another line. This was her dick move. Before you think “Hey, she was just looking out for herself. It’s a dog eat dog world. If you don’t watch out for yourself then who will?” learn this. C-Word had a lot of groceries. I mean an unhealthy amount. Such a douchey amount of food that if she isn’t sending it over to Africa then she is a bitch. Shopping carts are made to be a certain size for a specific reason. To stop people from being wasteful and having unnecessarily large families.
(Hey look, it’s those condom-less creeps again)
I’m the kind of guy who when I see someone with a lot less things in their cart will let them go in front of me. Yes. I’m that desperate and lonely for friendship. That’s not the only reason why I do it. On the chance that the old woman’s hot granddaughter runs up and says “Hey Gram-Gram! Can I buy this thong? I think it would look great on me! If only there was a male’s perspective I could get.” I also do it because it’s a nice thing to do. I would expect a Catholic Family with $500 worth of groceries would allow me to pass in front of them too. Not this whore. She couldn’t let anyone get out of there before her.
Taking a moment to describe her a little bit more, I would say that she looked exactly like you would think someone in New Jersey would look. She had a fake tight face, jewelry that belongs in an Aladdin film, and a haircut that belongs on the monkey in an Aladdin film. She looked like every cast member of all of those “Jersey” television shows. For those of you who haven’t been to New Jersey, not everyone here looks like that. Most people look normal. Most of us aren’t even Italians. Would you believe I have never gone tanning? I hate the beach, I don’t dance, and I haven’t bought hair gel in 8 years. Even then it was once and was colorful. I was a teenager. Teenagers love looking like Lucky Charms.
(I want to dip her in milk. So magically delicious even though I know she’d look awful in person)
The time has come for me to say it. Stop reading now and we can end on a good note if you are sensitive to certain words rhyming with hunt.
I might be overreacting with all of this, but that woman was a cunt. I mean, an hour has passed since this happened and I’m not nearly as annoyed now, but still, what a cunt move. (Actually now it’s been almost 2 weeks, but who’s counting?) To cut off people with all of your groceries? What kind of fucking rush are you in? Your children clearly shouldn’t be starving. You spend more money on Botox than you do on Christmas gifts. You puppet faced mule. What happened to aging gracefully? Your face even looks like a cunt. I swear someday I’m going to pull down a girl’s pants and see your face covered in pubic hair between her legs. You’re a terrible human being. Not you reading this. That cunt is. She probably won’t read this, ever. She’s too busy shoving down orphans and living by her own agenda. She has never once in her life looked at the big picture. The earth revolves around her. In her life, the sun is a giant yellow cunt who shops at Target. Ms. Cunt, and I call you Miss because no one could ever possibly marry you and stay with such a cunt, I hope you have one redeeming quality about you, but even the attitude you gave the cashier let me know that you don’t. You were born a cunt. You have lived as a cunt. You will die a cunt’s death.