The Five Types of Bitch

Love You, Mean It
As the sort of person who doesn’t like to ruffle feathers out of the sort of fear that induces IBS, I don’t like to generalise women, especially considering that they’re a damn sight better than men. But let’s face it- there’s a cunt epidemic out there amongst us gals that is spreading quicker than genital warts in One Direction’s shared abode. Why do women act like bitches?

Let me first say that this is a very small minority of women. Most are decent people, you know, normal humans preoccupied with their own stuff whilst mildly aware of trying to avoid stepping on the toes of other, similarly self-preoccupied women. And we all like those people.

But then, every now and again, we all have the misfortune to encounter an almighty biatch whose sole purpose in life is to ruin the buzz of every lady, aspiring lady and honorary manlady in her big selfish-cuntbag path. A bitch whose own ineptitude has marinated so long, it is able to project itself like a flying turd right down the front of my motherfucking blouse. And to those women, I say ‘Fuck you, bitch’.

This reading is (hopefully) not my usual blog style of a crazy beast hoping to Jesus that those voices in her head are ”normal” and ”will go away”, and please, don’t think I’m trying to be some sort of new Samantha Brick, desperate to tar women with a jealous brush to explain away her own unlikeableness and narcissism, I’m just saying that some women are bitches. And that small minority are the single reason why some arsehole men call us all bitches, when the majority aren’t.

But there isn’t just one type of bitch. Oh no, that would make them too easy to expose. Here are my five types of bitch:

You Know Who I’m Worried About?

Ever converse with a passive aggressive mate who likes to pick mutual aquaintances that are down on their luck by saying, ‘You know who I’m worried about?‘ and then proceeds to bitch and whine endlessly about the person whom she claims to have compassion for. You know what? In this scenario, sharing is not caring. Why not just say, ‘You know who I hate? Me. I hate me. But my self-hatred has been somewhat alleviated by Jodie getting dumped by her boyfriend. Let’s discuss that, plus suggest reasons for why Jodie is unlovable. Perhaps afterwards I can cite these reasons to other mutual friends, but to them, I’ll say that Jodie’s ex-boyfriend threw all this shit in her face as he packed up and left. Also, I might suggest that Jodie has attempted suicide, but I’ll put a comedic slant on it, like she tried to slit her wrists with a butterknife or something, so that people don’t get concerned enough to confront her and then everyone will find out that I’ve made it all up. Apart from Jodie getting dumped, which was, terrifically, true. Hooray!’

I’m Just Telling It Like It Is

If you have to suffix, ‘I’m just telling it like it is’ to your sentences, then you probably didn’t have to tell it like it is because you really didn’t have to be that mean. ‘Honesty is the best policy’ bitches are just cunts behind smokescreens. Yes, you could be totally blunt, or… have a bit of tact?

Passing Off Criticism as Constructive Criticism

‘Critical’ bitches who reassure themselves that their comments are constructive are similar to our chip-laden shouldered lasses in the former category, but with the added delusion of thinking that they are handing out valuable and appreciated advice to the recipient. In reality, this is usually not the case. If a bitch feels the need to constantly criticise others under the guise of ‘self-improvement’, then she’s the one with the problem. Perhaps she could well-meaningly criticise herself and see how long it takes before she breaks down and starts shooting up the motherfucking Mac counter, for they make us look like clowns. Probably for a laugh. But that’s neither here nor there. Where was I? Oh yes…

Assuming Everyone Is Out To Get You

There is nothing more tiresome than a bitch who believes that she is the subject of relentless jealousy from other females. Why self-promote if the reaction gets your goat? When bitches sing their successes from the rooftops and the reaction is less than congratulatory, it is most likely that people are responding by rolling their eyes, not seething with envy. But regardless, ‘Everyone is jealous of me’ bitch soldiers on, refusing to let the ‘haterz’ get her down. You know who else thinks they have ‘haterz’? Speidi, that’s who. Do you want to be Speidi? No, neither does anyone. So pipe down.


Although no-one knows the exact origin of ‘Quip-women’, rumour has it that this new breed of pseudo-intellectual females who say they don’t give a fuck what you think but are inexplicably still wearing a Wonderbra, dragging themselves to the gym in the morning and have a picture of Jo Brand stuck to their fridge as a deterrent came about during a shift in societal norms when it was no longer acceptable to bray your wife with the back of your hand amongst white, upper-middle class America. Shame on them. Now, people like Whitney Cummings are allowed on the TV to vomit up the programme equivalent of a pink champagne stain on a Laura Ashley cushion. ‘Love You, Mean It’, in which no-oil-painting-herself Whitney critiques current events (i.e. outfits/bodies/faces of female celebrities) with the sort of humour that wouldn’t even make it into a pound shop joke book while visibly biting her lip to keep herself from exploding with smugness. I wouldn’t mind so much, but Whitney’s rising career as a comedienne (eurgh) is depriving an outlandishly camp man of a BFF somewhere, and I fear that, now that their friend-destiny remains unfulfilled, instead one day I may waste four and a half minutes of my life watching his Youtube rant about how Bobbi Kristina needs to get her shit together. Fuck you, Whitney.

I would also like to point out that I am not a ‘Quip-woman’, as I’m far to slow to devise any sort of decent comeback, and prefer to sactimoniously whinge from the comfort of my keyboard. I’m a keyboard bitch, which is the younger counterpart of a ‘Catlady’. Life is good.

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