Wanna See Some Girl-on-Girl Cat Fighting?
See, I have this all planned out. Now first of all, let me reiterate that I am very happily married. It’s like a damn utopia around here. Seriously. I have absolutely no desire to leave my husband, cheat on my husband, or piss him off. Yes, we have our moments, and yes, he does things that make me want to go ape shit. But generally speaking, I’ve found my soul mate, we’re best friends, we very rarely argue, and in 11 years, we haven’t once thought about ending it all. That being said, he also understands my overwhelming desire to make the entire world think like I do, so I’m pretty sure he’d be OK with the plan I’m about to lay out for all of you…
Here’s how it’s going to play out….
First, I’m going to drop about 20 lbs. Now granted, I only weigh 12o-ish lbs. right now, and on my 5’3 1/2″ frame, that’s not so bad. But let’s face it. Unless I can rock a bikini and not have a slight beer gut hanging out, I’ve already lost any chance of landing on the show.
After I drop those 20 lbs., I’m going to get a boob job. Again, I’m somewhere between a B and a C cup, but we all know that unless I’m sporting a cleavage that could hide one of those midgets I’m afraid of, then again, my chances of landing on the show are slim to none.
Next, I’ll become a blonde. A platinum blonde. This is where my amazingly talented hair stylist and friend, Aaron, comes in. He hasn’t done me wrong yet, so I have complete confidence that he can make me look like a walking Barbie doll if asked (or at least like her second-rate cousin, Skipper).
So assuming I do all of the above, I have complete confidence that my personality can guarantee me a spot on the show. This is where the fun begins…
Upon being accepted to be on the show and then arriving on the set, I’m going to just blend right in with the other pathetic whore bag lovely, classy ladies that were chosen. I’ll toss my hair back, bat my eyelashes, and smile so big that you’ll swear my glittery thong is so far up my ass that there’s no hope of ever retrieving it.
I’ll flirt with the wealthy bachelor, while also slyly making friends with the other sluts girls that are there.
I’ll make out with the bachelor in some random, bacteria-ridden, sperm-filled hot tub, knowing all of the other bitches ladies are back at the mansion, contemplating whether or not the living Ken doll really has the hots for me or just likes my new double-D tits.
Once I use my charm to get into the top 4 or 5 girls or so is when my evil plot will all take shape. First, I’ll make a point of having sex with the not even remotely hot attractive bachelor. This is simply to throw off the other women and make them hate me (so that my upcoming bitch slaps won’t emotionally wound them).
Then, I’m going to sit each one of the pathetic excuses for women ladies down one by one and explain to them that if one hopes to find actual love, then going on what is really a glorified game show and sucking face with and screwing a guy who is doing the same with 19 other girls at the same time probably isn’t the way to do it. Then I’m going to tell them (assuming they can comprehend intelligent conversation) that they’re giving women everywhere a bad name, that they’re worthless, that the only reason they haven’t found true love yet is because they’re shallow and superficial. And then I’m going to line them up side-by-side and walk down the line and bitch slap every goddamn one of them.
Chances are, they won’t know what hit them and will run crying to the arrogant asshole bachelor to “tell” on me. And they’ll all fall, one by one, into his arms and he’ll screw them to ease the pain (one right after the other, with a 5-minute break in between each girl so that the douchebag gentleman has time to rinse off the sex scent of the 4 other previous girls).
And then, as each one exits the dickbag’s upstanding citizen’s room, I’ll bitch slap them again and finish them off by punching them in the chest, hoping to pop whatever silicone or saline-filled pouches are in there. And then when he walks out, I’ll rip his nuts off, shove them down his throat, and belittle him by telling him he has a small penis and chastising him for being a pig who just spent weeks making out (and screwing) 20 random girls in his search for his future wife.
Because we all know that if you’re going to find someone to spend the rest of your life with, the way to do that is to find 20 girls to simultaneously screw, suck face with, and flop around in hot tubs.
That is absolutely the way to set yourself up with a lovely life partner that will forever be devoted to you and be willing to walk to the ends of the earth with. Uh huh.
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PS: I’m pretty sure that upon carrying out my plan, that I’ll be kicked off the show by whatever producer is secretly having a homosexual affair with whatever bachelor is on the show. But that’s OK. Because I can die happy knowing I did at least one good thing for my fellow vagina-bearing comrades who feel the same way I do.
PPS: Yes (for those of you that will ask and/or challenge me), I’ve watched the show. One episode of one season. And I was so repulsed and embarrassed for the losers that were on it (the guy and the girls), that I changed the channel and have refused to ever watch another second of it again. And I and never will.
(Well… except for the season that I’m on it. Because that season will at least be somewhat entertaining…)