Tall Bitches, the Hypocritical Blog

Fuck you if you say I'm hypocritical after writing this, but shit was annoying today.

I'm attempting to find someone to take over my lease at my old apartment. She's a wonderful place- loft style with 700 square feet, new appliances, and to top it off, an awesome spiral staircase.

Why would I move from a wonderful place like that to a small-ass bedroom in my boyfriends house? Because of dumb-ass bitches in New York creating this recession thing. Fuck me if I fully understood what the recession means, but all I care is it's a bitch, and the movie I was supposed to work on has been pushed back again and again. The $700 apartment can't get paid for so easily anymore...

So I've been posting ads on craigslist so that people can see my apartment, get excited, and give me money. But so so far everyone who responds to my ad are retarded. Yes, retarded. A Brazilian model who doesn't speak shit, a bitch who moved here from New York City to work as a cook at Dennys and a tall-ass black man.

I won't say names, but the cook who moved here for her "career" is a bitch. Fuck her in the balls. I'm trying to be nice, professional, and make her really want the apartment, and the day she is supposed to come and look at it she cancels. What the fuck. I already drove the nine miles (a lot during a fucking recession) and waited for her for two hours. But oh no. Oh hell no. That's not the worse part.

BITCH WON'T CALL ME BACK OR RESPOND TO MY EMAILS.

Okay, there's a good example to all this. Mother-fuckers in Titanic's wireless room are Jack Phillips and Harold Bride. These mother-fuckers are the computer geeks of their time, sending and receiving messages across the Atlantic. Now, imagine I am the liner Californian, and I just stopped because my small-ass piece of shit ship is surrounded by ice. Being the nice gent I am, Ciril Evans, I send a polite message to my bros over on Titanic about the danger of ice.

And what do I get back? "Shut up! Shut up! I'm working!"

MOTHER-FUCKER STAND BACK! No way! I'm warning your ass about the ice and you tell me to shut up?! Up yours, dick. It makes me not give a rat's ass, turn off my wireless and go to bed and let 1,496 bitches freeze to death later. Nearer My God to Thee, mother-fucker.

Point is the Californian was blamed for not having it's wireless on when being so close to Titanic that she could have saved everyone. That's me. I'm gonna be blamed for not being able to pay my rent because I can't find anyone because of dumb-ass short order cook at Dennys. Fuck Dennys, long live IHOP.


Time for the tall-ass mother-fucker black man. Bitch sends me lots of emails saying he's excited about the place, wants to check it out, etc. He's late too, in coming to look at the apartment. But when I see him I realize something.

BITCH IS TALLER THAN ME.

I'm 6'2"....he's 6'5" and as he said, "sometimes 6'6." He can hardly fit in my apartment. I just think he could have told me he was a fucking giant first before wasting my time to realize he can't walk up my stairs without ducking. Kinda important. I feel like I had sex with someone who had AIDS, and he didn't tell me until after he was inside me. What the hell.

I guess my blog is all about being polite. Be a polite bitch and respond to my emails and phone calls. Be a polite bitch and tell me what you expect in an apartment first, before wasting our time. Be a polite bitch and tell the Californian thanks for the ice warning.

I'm going back to my mac and cheese now bitches.