Ugh, today was a terrible day. I woke up late, my dyed blonde hair looked awful, and to top it off, the mailman came to my door. That smug, condescending, incompetent fool. He always thinks he’s so much better than me, with his ‘good morning’ and his ‘is there anything I can help you with?’ No, you can’t help me, you’re just a lowly mailman. I told him to get off my property, but of course, he just stood there, smiling like a moron. I hate people like that.
I’m so sick of people thinking they can just waltz into my life and try to be my friend. Newsflash: I’m Ultra Karen, the queen of mean. I don’t do ‘friends.’ I do acquaintances, and even those are few and far between. But the mailman, oh, he thinks he’s so special just because he delivers my bills on time. Please. I could care less about my bills. I’d rather be out shopping for more designer clothes, or yelling at some poor soul in a store. That’s what I call living.
As I was yelling at the mailman, I caught a glimpse of myself in the window reflection. And let me tell you, I looked fierce. My brown hair roots were showing, my small breasts were still perky, and my fair skin was glowing with a healthy, angry sheen. I’m a scary Karen, after all. I can make anyone cower with just one look. The mailman was shaking in his boots, I could tell. And you know what? It made my day. I love being a horrible, mean, angry woman. It’s the best feeling in the world.
>Soulkyn