Midol Anyone?

Before there was Super Fly there was Super Bitch!  All us females and even some of our male counterparts have been her.  Whether it be a chronic personality disorder or a rare authentic occurrence that has appeared spontaneously and completely out of character, we have all felt the Super Bitch.  We've even fallen victim to the Super Bitch.  Been enraged by the Super Bitch yet allowed ourselves to be possessed by the Super Bitch.  The Super Bitch is mighty and powerful.  You cannot deny the wonder.  Her power can be aw-inspiring.  Even you straight men out there have had your episodes of pissiness and whines.  Face it men.  Be truthful to yourself.  You're not just experiencing a brief moment of pissyEEE(ey/y), your succumbing to the weakness brought forth by the Super Bitch!  Many of us have even been dissed by the Super Bitch.  Let the Super Bitch have our way with us.  I dedicate today's blog to the Super Bitch after plenty of inspiration from my Wednesday night women's bowling league banquet.  Now it's bad enough that Super Bitches have no problem being super bitchy against their own kind under any circumstances, but then you throw competition into the ring! This is probably why women don't rule the world people.  We would completely annihilate each other.  If Adam were to ever roll his eyes at Eve and give a hungry glance over at Evette, that would've been the end!  That's why God didn't start out with two bitches.  Totally logical I'm sure Leonard Nemoy would agree!  Going back to the banquet, it wasn't exactly the thing I was looking forward to going anyway.  I felt all year I was surrounded by a group of hoarding bitches.  They definitely proved that to be the case last night when they went up for second and third helpings of baked ziti and eggplant parmesian.  Now I was brought up to be the sportsman. If someone on an opposing team makes a great shot or won a game, I will high five them or congratulate them.  You did not get this from these bitches.  In fact, my own bro witnessed one bitch early in the season give me the Sicilian horns so I could miss in my tenth frame and screw up my game.  This is not only the lowest of lows, but it's absolutely disgusting!  It's the kind of thing that makes you ashamed to be a human being.  And the bitch made the mistake that a Hawley/Elliott would not know what that symbol meant.  She also made the mistake of pissing off a half Sicilian half Welsh chick, which means we not only want you dead, but we want you children's children to remember the pain that your ancestors brought — Never EVER FORGET!  FYI: That's way worse than if I was just Sicilian, trust me on this one.  So on top of these already not being my most favorite people in the world and forced to be placed in a social, rather than competitive setting with them, my skin was already beginning to crawl on the drive up.  There were still Super Bitches whispering to themselves after you or your team was announced for an award.  But then there's sometimes the fake smiles afterwards.  The I love you I just drove a stake through your back mentality.  It made me realize why throughout my life, when given a choice, I've always chose to be friends with the man as opposed to being friends with the bitches!  I remember my friends in high school always commenting about that.  All the guys talked to me and not them.  Well, "all the guys" were talking baseball and hockey scores or other chicks with me, it's not like they were asking me out!  I was way too lame and nerdy for that.  But it made me think Bitches are all about the drama and that's just not me.  I've never wanted to be part of that.  And I'm not about faking the orgasm people.  Listen, if you don't like me that's fine.  If you choose to judge me without even really knowing me, then that's your choice.  I would have no problem with walking up to you and saying Don't worry, I hate your guts too! Whether that's the Super Bitch coming out of me or the Real Woman, I don't know.  Either way, I like her and I'm sticking with her.  Not quite sure if it's worked for me through the years but once you're accustomed, it's a pretty hard habit to break.  I am a hard habit to break (thanks Chicago!)