Holy Hot Messes! - Insane Doggy Style

Tupper-where the hell U been, Adrian Grenadine?

      Like your period last month, did y'all Lil' Baconators miss me?  I've been off in the land of employment trying to be skinny and become no longer single, but like that orgy with Sam Jaeger and Noel Kahn from PLL, it's just not happening.  So while I was in re-flab, trying not to eat anyone and everything that came into the fatcinity of my cake hole, I just missed my loyal follower(s) too murch, and thus I'm back full time to bring in the holiday season with a big rape-bang.  

     But enough being all sappy and nice, it's time to get to the shit talkin' all 3 of you come here for as I break down someone who, much like a dick in an oven, is truly a hot mess.  In an attempt to streamline content and make more frequent posts, I'm pulling a Briss and cutting the posts down for your (and future lovers') enjoyment, thus there's only a Hot Mess Person this time, and not a Place or Thing.  But like that post-Briss ween, they will come eventually.  So read on to see who gets my hot mess approval this time around, but I warn you, she ain't pretty...

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PERSON:  Crazy Dog Walker Lady

Is hotdog nom... no?

     This Hobag is kinda like the characters "The Wise Old Man", "The Crack Whore", or the place "7-11"; everyone knows/has been inside one, but that doesn't mean you're proud of it.  The hot mess in question is an actual person, but I'll treat her like your b-hole and keep this more open ended to apply to those of her kind who roam the streets with that mix of rabid and hawngry face, looking ever so delicately for ways to shamble your life while forgetting that they actually died 20 years ago and haven't yet gone to the light... but I digress, so let me explain who exactly this Crazy Dog Walker Lady is be.

I'll be 23 in a month.  Promz.  ACCCK!

     Essentially, this trainwreck looks like Grandma death on crack.  Her hair is higher than a Real Housewife with Bellatrix LeStrange DNA coursing through her canine blood.  She literally has 6 dogs of various sizes, none of them on a leash mind you, and the only words she seems to know are "YOU!" and "ACCKK!", or something unintelligible that sounds like "you" and "acck" that she shouts out at the lil' goblins through lips clenching a Marlboro Red so tight you'd think it were a dick and her Lisa Renna's were a virgin vajayjay getting penny for the first time... but again I digress.  
     Were I a nicer person, I'd lay my hands of random bless on her tragic self, but her sleeveless tie-die Flashdance swoop shirt paired with Juicy Couture sweats and Miss Cleo sandals she seems to always sport when she emerges from her cave are just too murch for me to bless... so instead I curse her for her fashion faux gah-is-she-really-wearing-that ensemb?

Bitch, please-to handle ya' bitches.  I'm trynna park!

     Adding insult to injury, not only does she move at the pace of me when something other than bacon is put 4 feet away and I'm told to fetch, but this ghost-of-Winehouse-future (too soon?) lets her dogs run in the street in front of your car slash throws her garbage and recycling bins in your way when you're trying to park because she doesn't want one of her "youacks" (translation: dogs) to get hit by a car that's parked in front of her house, which I'm sure, is made entirely of candy so the chilrenz come and she can eat them alive Grimm style.  

     Oh, and if you do the normal thing and try to pet or look in the direction of one of her dogs, she raises her bush-brows of death in contempt and spouts out a much louder "ACCK!" in your direction, causing her canine minions to bark and growl at you with all their mangy foam-mouthed might.  Perhaps now that I think about it, Hobag isn't spouting "Ack" so much as "attack", something SHE should do to her megabrows with a nice pair of tweezers.  Lissy up Crazy Dog Walker Lady, we're all in a financial crises, but you can shell out 99 cents to buy some tweezers at CVS Okuur?  And while you're at it, pocket some Garnier or Selson Blue at least and attack that topiary hair-don't you try to rock like it's fashion week and you're Coca Rocha giving mad face whilst workin' dem "fashionz".

Who let the mothuhfuqin dogs out!?!

     So let's recap for those in the black:  Bellatrix hair, megabrows of death, multiple shit covered dogs not on leashes, ability to only muffle 2 words through cigarette-clenched lips, lack of respect for anything not wearing a flea collar, and a love for all things Juicy Couture... Nope, it's not Kim Kardashian, but it will be in about 300 years.  It's the crazy dog walker lady on my street, and she's boiling over with so murch hot mess I can barely keep my triple-triple baconator down with a gallon of diet coke.  
     Here's to hoping when the cryogenics chamber she sleeps in to keep alive runs out of cold, that her beloved street urchins don't get mad cow disease when they inevitably nom down on her face-parts to survive the harsh winter without their den master to spread her evil throughout my So-Cal hipster neighborhood.  So let's look to the heavens and pray for this Holy Hot Mess, because like a hot oil treatment slash flea-bath, Hobag really does need it.