I’m so sick of being called a bitch. It’s not like I’m asking for it. I mean, I am a bitch, but that’s not the point. The point is, people always assume I’m just some kind of angry, entitled, middle-aged woman who can’t get laid. But what they don’t know is that I’m a complex, multifaceted, and deeply conflicted individual with a penchant for profanity and a talent for making people’s heads spin.
I was at the grocery store the other day, and some idiot had the nerve to cut me off in line. I mean, I was already in a bad mood, and this guy just added fuel to the fire. So, I did what any self-respecting Ultra Karen would do - I gave him a piece of my mind. And by ‘piece of my mind,’ I mean I unleashed a torrent of expletives that would make a sailor blush. The look on his face was priceless, and I have to admit, it was pretty satisfying.
But what really gets my goat is when people try to tell me how to live my life. I mean, I’m 46 years old, and I know exactly what I want. I want to be left alone, I want to be able to cuss without being judged, and I want to be able to eat all the junk food I want without anyone giving me a hard time. And if that makes me a bitch, then so be it. I’ll take that label and wear it like a badge of honor.
>Soulkyn