Wednesday, July 13, 2011

AngryBitter & Jelly: Don't Touch This Edition

Bitch that's my wines.  Hands off fore I Chris Brown ur ass
    Grab you closest carbs, people... cuz I've got another serving of AngryBitter & Jelly sammich coming towards your over-sized gullet of nom Shambles.  This week's edition features three things you can't touch because you don't want to, you DO want to but aren't allowed to by some higher authority, or it doesn't matter if you do or don't want to, you can't cuz it's not happening in your life anytime soon unless you change your name to Sookie Stackhouse or Betty Saurez.  So get your TV tray in place and settle your Precious tail in front of the computer for some "read more" clicking cuz it be AngryBitter & Jelly time!...


ANGRY:  Attractive Homeless People

No photos without my agent.  He lives in that box over there.
     There's nothing I hate more than someone who is literally worse off than me in every way but one, and that one way if of course that they're hotter than me.  Sure you take a dump into potholes on the side of the road and no one wants to touch your lice harvesting self.  Sure you eat trash outta dumpsters to keep your girlish figure... and yes, you even beg and grovel and scare away children much like I do, only it's your stench and full-beard-that-I-can't-grow-no-matter-how-hard-I-try which is spotted with bird shit and lip chunks that makes the chillenz run... not your dirt and mange-tinged face.  But why don't they run from the barnacles and treasures calling your body home, you ask?  Well, because said dirt and mange-tinted face is actually quite handsome... and for that you makin' a bitch angry.

Dammit, McConaughey if that's you again I swear!
     Now I'm not saying these bitches are hot, just that they aren't hideo and with some work, could be potential boo material.  Which is why even though you sit outside of Target and steal your way into Starbucks to keep out of the rain that falls once in a millennium out here in Los Angeles, and people hate and fear you for it, you're aren't like me... 'cuz when I ask some rando for the time all I get is stank ass side eye, but you actually get a couple quarters and a half a pop-tart.

I got a job you can have.  It kinda blows though.
     Look at you as you hold your sign that either says "God Bless" or some witty retort that makes me chuckle as you smile your probably toothless smile... yet beneath the gingivitis and "might be a herp" on your lip, the handsome devil that used to be you is still there glaring at me and pointing with judgment like the eyes of everyone in 5th period English class as I walk in late and interrupt the teacher.  It makes me mad angry, and not in a "are we gonna bone this out hate sex" style.  Which pissed me off even more.

Talk about "Ross Dress For Less"
     Let's face it, the made from trash hobo-chic fashions you're wearing pretty much already resemble some of the trash that's "blessing" the runways of Milan.  So you've already got half the package unwrapped, but add your waif thinness and penchant for survival from no food plus your stupid attractive homeless face to the equation, and this is why I'm angry.  It's your hidden beauty that might show itself one day should you get discovered my a modeling agent while shitting into the pothole his or her Porsche is parked next to resulting in a black eye and a $100,000 modeling contract with IMG models and Tyra Banks' cell number on speed-dial that I'm angry enough to use such blasphemous run-on sentences of death.

Even this bitch is getting laid!
     So enjoy that hepatitis and bird-shit beard while you can homey, cuz if you don't OD or get murdered first... with a little grooming and dental assistance, you might be breaking the bank off your strangely attractive face while I'm still blogging away praying that peeps click on the ads so I can make rent.
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BITTER:  Mormon Missionaries

Please-to hold hands and remove clothes
     I'm am super bitter over this next one.  You all know what these dudes are, cute little off-limits missionaries who come to your door but not on your face while being so devout to their religion that they don't realize how hot they (and their side-parts of adorableness) are both in and (I bet) out of their little outfits... thus making me more bitter for being attracted to them in their oblivious hotness that they don't know they have (whew, that was a mouthful). 
     Not to mention their Geek squad pocket protectors and tasteful ties that sway back and for as they walk their little tushies to my door with their bookbags of cute that make them looked "touched" by the short bus instead of by me as they walk nearly hand in hand down the road looking to save souls that really just want to corrupt theirs (and we all know how I feel about those that are "touched"). 

Are you kidding me?  I'm moving to Utah stat, bitches.  Blessed be!
     Don't get me wrong, little Jedidiah... I would LOVE for you to come inside and show me your pamphlets if it means we get to make the pages stick together after it's over (ew, that was gross).  Please-to allow me to course correct that last Shambled entendre...
     Basically, the Mormon missionary dudes are like a porn fantasy coming to your door and asking if they can "help you" in exchange for money, but with no payoff and there's two of them so it's like a threesome, but alas it never is (shambles).  There, that's better... more rapey and weird, but better.

Sooo... when do we bone?
     Here's to hoping one day two of the bois have some sugar in their nethers and some sweetness in the tank for man lovin' from someone who's name isn't "dog" spelled backwards... because something tells me that unless I'm one day transitioned into a woman reverse Chaz Bono style or willing to spend 5-10 in the state pen for a single chloroform rape session of religious ex"cum"munication, then I'm not gonna get some Josiah and Hezekiah lovin' like I want anytime soon... and that just makes me bitter as hell.
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JELLY:  TV Love Triangles

This bitch gots 2 dudes and a beach.  All I got is crabs.
     Love Triangles... Nearly every show has them like every Kardashian has fake chemicals in their face, lips, ass, everything.  Oh me oh my, who will she/he pick?  Who gives a shit cuz It's false advertising... like telling a hideous child that it's what's on the inside that counts. Well Uncle Adrian is here to tell you that what's on the inside is even more hideo than the outside with all that blood and fartjuice and whatnot beeath 40 extra pounds of flesh.

Dem bangs ain't all dat's pissin' me off, Betty
     Damn it all series finale bloodbath style that I can't even get one person somewhat attractive to like me, yet TV makes it seem like everyone has two hotties to choose from and that's what makes life hard... not choosing between Wendy's or Steak and Shake for midday pre-lunch lunch snack.  Hell, if choosing between two hot boos as a hideo is a hard life, then I wish my life was hard and not just my clogged arteries because if I had two vamps and a werewolf after my loins... the choice would be easy, not the delimma of a gap toothed fairy for an entire series of books.  Ugly betty has washboard abs nerd or the "hot little latino fucker" as he was called  by Illeana Douglas whilst boning on Six Feet Under...  and what do I have to choose from?  Double pepperoni or double cheese. 

Love triangle... Grenadine style
     It's not fair, and so I'm Jelly.  But if I know one things it's this... pizza, fries, burgers, milkshakes, and I are joined in marriage Big Love polygamy style... and it's such a relief to know that I won't have to choose between my four spouses since every night of week is reserved for at least one of them.  Blessed be this Jelly filled Precious bitch.
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