Vertically Challenged and Mentally Vacant

Posted: January 26, 2013 by divebardiva in Daily Ramblings

Okay, my fantastic people: This is what is spinning in the wheel this fine, albeit fucking freezing afternoon.

People who try to shock someone like me with the word cunt are always sadly disappointed.

This is the situation … I do not give two shits about being called a cunt. In fact, I’d use the word myself much more often if people weren’t so horrified when they hear it. One of the reasons I love England as much as I do is that they fling that fucker around without impunity.

It’s just a word, people. And everyone just needs to get the hell over it. We’re big boys and girls. We don’t need to pull a Charlotte in Sex in the City and describe someone as a  “C U Next Tuesday.” I think we can call it like it is.

Now most of the girls I know have a shit ton of commonsense, and they don’t freak out over a little four-letter word. Of course, most of these girls are in the biz so they’ve seen and heard it all. Their skin is a lot thicker than the average chica. In fact, my girls will even occasionally use the term themselves to describe someone displaying cunt-like behavior. However, this term is used sparingly and only in the most appropriate of occasions.

Then there are those douchebags who throw the term around the same way teenagers pepper their conversations with “like.” It’s their feeble and unintelligent way to try to prove their masculinity in a pitiful attempt to demean women. It’s pathetic and — in my case — it’s just not effective.

Here’s a great example for you fine folks. I call it, “The Unfortunate Munchkin Who Needed Courage, a Heart AND a Brain.”

Mr. Munchkin: I need you to get the Boss right now.

dbd: Yeah, this is when Bossman sleeps. And there is no way in hell I am going upstairs to wake him up.

Mr. Munchkin: Listen, I have issues, and I want you to wake him up right fucking now.

dbd: Oh, I can tell you have issues. Now why don’t you just tell me what your problem is. I’ll try to take care of it.

Mr. Munchkin: I’m not telling you my fucking problem.  So go wake up Bossman, or I will get the sheriff down here and close this fucking bar down.

So as you can see, I am between a rock and a hard place here … or as I like to call it, “between an assmonkey and his possibly valid threat.” But all of a sudden, it dawned on me. If I wake up Bossman for this assclown, he will most likely stab the idiot or — at the very least — boot his ass out. In a last-ditch effort to avoid bloodshed, I thought I’d give Napoleon one last chance.

dbd: You know what, buddy? I will go get Bossman. I will bring up your petty grievance, and the fact that although I am in charge, you couldn’t tell me what your fucking problem is. I will wake him out of a dead sleep so he can come down from his home and deal with your idiotic issue. And when I do, my friend, you deal with the fucking consequences.

Mr. Lollipop Guild suddently got a sick look on his face. I left him at the bar and headed up to wake the boss. But when I came back down, the Lilliputian had vanished. My waitresses told me he left, screaming the whole way out that I was a cunt. I called up to Bossman and told him it was a false alarm. He immediately went back into hibernation mode.

The moral? If you don’t have the mental acuity to realize what you’re getting yourself into, have your mini brain tell your mini self to shut the fuck up. Second moral and the purpose for this tale is … if you don’t have the balls to call me a cunt to my face then you, little man, are the cunt in question.

And finally, if you really want to impress me, try to come up with something a little more creative and original. Something like cum-burping-gutter-slut. I heard a friend use that once, and it made me laugh.

I’ll be back slinging drinks at the bar in a couple days.  So if any of you are so inclined to visit, I will C U Next Tuesday.

With love and liquor,

the divebardiva

  1. snrky says:

    A very enjoyable post.

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