I'm Fucking Sick of Paranoid People

Parents who hover over their children are starting to really get on my fucking nerves. They think I don’t notice those little sideways glances they give me whenever I get within a 100 yard radius of their children. Um do I really look like I want a fucking kid? I have cum in my hair for a reason, and it’s not as a substitute for hair gel; it’s as a testament to the success rate of the pull out method. So, if I don’t want to take care of my own accidents, then I sure as hell don’t want to take care of someone else’s child. Also, hello, it’s the twenty-first fucking century; get that fucking Sex Offender App for your iPhone, you filthy rich bastards, and you’ll quickly observe that there aren’t many young blonde females listed as child molesters.

Being paranoid about having your child kidnapped is usually very much unnecessary anyway because the fact is, most of the children of such paranoid parents are hideous, and nobody wants to kidnap an unattractive child. I mean who wants to parade some ugly child around, claiming it as their own? That is just advertising that you either have a shitty gene pool or that you slept with someone disgusting looking in order to produce this mutant offspring. "Oh, he’ll grow into his ears." Like hell he will! Dumbo is going to be insulted about his little inheritance from grandma for the rest of his life, so you might as well get used to it and accept the fact that nobody wants to kidnap a child they would have to purchase hats for every time the kid hit a growth spurt.

Also, no one wants to abduct a fat child. Hypothetically speaking, from the perspective of a prospective kidnapper, why the fuck would I want to kidnap a kid whose elephant-sized stomach would consume half my salary? Most kidnappers are not selfless enough to sacrifice their own eating habits for the sake of a fatass Cartman-looking kid. "She’s just going through a phase; that baby fat should go away in no time." No, no, you better hope your job has some good ass health coverage because she will be a drain on your insurance from that chubby toddler "phase" until the day she gets on some reality TV show about being obese and adolescent or some shit. With fat children, it’s like cultivating the biggest pumpkin in town; you spend all your money up front on feeding them so that one day they can earn you back your money along with a little interest for the pain and suffering (at the county fair in the case of the pumpkins and on reality TV or at the carnival in the case of fat children). So, no, the rest of us do not want to capitalize on your ability to overfeed your child by stealing the bastard.

I’ve been out of my house since I was seventeen, but my mom still thinks that if I don’t answer the phone or reply to a text, I’m dead. Not sure if she perhaps possesses some psychic ability I’m unaware of or if she just has the general assumption that I’m up to no good, but she tends to worry to great excess. Now, I’m not going to sit here and bullshit around and deny that her assumptions about my bad behavior are generally correct, but still, the repeat phone calls are over the damn top. Like really, Mom, I pay all my own bills, so yeah I have shitty ass cell service on my shitty ass cell phone, and most of the times you are sitting there hitting the speed dial over and over again on your decently modern phone, I’m not answering because my tin cans and string are in a dead zone, not because I’m literally dead.

Either that or I’m dead asleep. And I’m tired of having to pay to have the damn windows replaced because she alerted all the authorities again that I was abducted or dead, and the SWAT team burst in to investigate. As though I’m not grumpy enough being woken up in general, the sound of shattering glass certainly does little to boost my mood. Mom, I’m pretty positive Amber Alerts are for those cute kids that get stolen (not the fat or ugly ones but the ones who do pageants and dress like thirty year olds at age three) not lazy ass adults who like to sleep until three in the afternoon. So yeah, chill out with the whole calling the CIA and FBI thing; they are getting tired of waking me up and having me not even feel courteous enough to give them a blowjob for their trouble.

Another group of paranoid people who annoy the ever-loving shit out of me are girlfriends who are obsessed that their boyfriends are cheating on them. Give it a rest; if you’re that paranoid about them cheating, they probably are cheating just so they can get a damn handjob from someone who isn’t shining a flashlight down their dick to make sure some other chick’s lipstick isn’t on it. I especially hate those skanks who pull that little maneuver where if I check out their man in public, they tighten their claws around his hand as some little attempt at a power move to keep me away. Oh yeah cause your strong ass hands over there are really going to discourage me…..if I want to tighten my pussy around your man’s cock, chances are good that his pants will be down within the next hour. I don’t say this out of arrogance or narcissism; I simply say this because I know that men of all ages are really just like hormonal little boys observing titties for the first time.

Yes, your boyfriend probably has naked pictures of me on his phone. No, you should not be excessively concerned about this. Neither he nor I am to blame for this exchange of pictures; generally, as Jamie Foxx will confirm, Grey Goose is to blame. And even if he has said pictures, so what? There’s still about a 30 percent chance that he and I are not fucking, so don’t get your panties in a wad! See, that’s another thing these bitches need to learn; those of us who are smart and don’t wear panties never have to worry about getting ours in a wad.

Let’s say for argument’s sake, though, that I am fucking your boyfriend. Again, you still should not be concerned! You know why? I have approximately zero interest in stealing your man. If I wanted a boyfriend, then by God, I’d have me a damn boyfriend. I have my fair share of options. Sure, I’m difficult to get along with, but I also like to fuck a lot, so guys are willing to overlook my more obnoxious qualities. The fact of the matter is, I love the freedom of being single, and if I tried to steal every girl’s boyfriend rather than just casually fucking them, I guess I wouldn’t be so happily independent anymore. Why fuck up my own world just to fuck up yours? That would be counterproductive, and we all know I’m smarter than that. So instead of worrying so much about if I’m fucking your boyfriend, just go fuck him yourself and leave me the hell alone because I’m fucking sick of paranoid people.