Archive | March, 2011

26. Spring Break

30 Mar

It’s sometime in March and the Golden Age of The Betch Life is upon us.

Spring. Fucking. Break.

Betches all across the land are dismounting their treadmills and jetting to some third world country where shit is gonna get fucking weird. For 51 weeks a year, we have to mask our true selves by trying to keep our betchy activities under the radar. Been #8 holding off on fucking bros? Wearing clothes that cover 50 percent of your body? Not on Spring Break, betches.

The best part about the week is the fact that it’s basically a black hole in your life, which means it’s a completely judgment-free zone. Normally we’d think it was a little fucked up if we found one of our guy friends attempting to sniff something off his coffee table just because it vaguely resembles white powder. But on Spring Break, you instead accuse him of drug hoarding until he admits that he is actually out of drugs and wanted to see what would happen if he snorted your month’s worth of Yaz. Sorry bro, that’s not what you’re looking for.

Jon't dudge me.

Spring Break is both the most ridiculous and most amazing thing to hit modern society. Like, how is it actually possible that there’s an entire week when it’s socially acceptable for your parents to pay thousands of dollars so you can go to a tropical island and get obliterated day and night, while alternating between getting fucked on the swim-up bar and getting railed against your balcony’s, umm… railing. It’s like #3 going abroad, but you don’t even have to pretend to be having a cultural experience. Actually, we lie. Some of us took the opportunity to work on our espanol throughout the week.

Manuel, uno mas tequila por favor!

Even the assholes who took French in high school are fluent in Spanish bartender heckling.

Nothing brings out your betchiest side like the tropical heat, tan bros, and leaving America. Fuck #2 world news (Serious moment: Let’s take this shot in honor of Liz Taylor, you were the ultimate betch. RIP.), your parents bitching at you to get a job, and your fake desire to “be a real person.” Suddenly you’d rather win the booty-shaking contest than receive news that you got into the grad school of your choice.

But contest or not, you know nothing really matters except the purity of the drugs you bought from the islander down the beach.

Unfortunately, there comes a point in a betch’s life when the only vacations she’ll be on will be with her family (vom) or boyfriend/husband/kids. In ten years, when your spring break consists of taking your two year-old on Space Mountain fifteen times, just think back to your betch glory days. Fuck roller coasters, remember there was once a time when the club was your amusement park, the only rolling you did was on E, and your favorite ride was the bro underneath you.

P.S. The winner of the Bat Shit Crazy Spring Break Contest will be the next post! Thanks for all your submissions. Some were retarded, but the rest were mostly funny. Love you betches!

“Betches Love This Job” Guide to Post-Grad Life

17 Mar

If there’s anything a betch in college hates, it’s when you go home for break and every member of your family asks, “What do you want to do after you graduate?”

I want to marry a rich bro ASAP, pop out some babies, and spend the rest of my days shopping, “doing lunch” with my besties, playing in the country club tennis tourney, and being a philanthrobetch. Wouldn’t you?

This is pretty much how every betch truly wants to respond to the post-grad question, but since it’s not the 17th century anymore, we don’t get to wait around at home taking etiquette lessons until our parents marry us off. Here, we’ll give you our daughter in exchange for one goat.

As much as you betches protest (Noooo! I really want to have a successful law career!), we all know what you’re really thinking. It’s okay, we’re betches too.

Rather than letting some betch-hater label us anti-feminist and lazy, we accept the fact that we need to do something that involves making an income to occupy the greater part of our twenties. We’d also like to avoid jealous betches #1 talking shit about how we still don’t do anything other than spend our parents’ money at age 25.

So what are some of the post-grad options for betches?

It should be obvious by now that betches are the shit, so we could really do anything and be amazing at it. A betch could be the fucking president if she wanted; she’s already an expert in diplomacy as a result of learning to juggle constant BBMs from her multiple #18 VIPs. Unfortunately, Facebook’s privacy settings suck and make it a hassle to hide the photos that will prevent us from ever being elected. Sooooo sorry that “the people” think the montage of me chugging a bottle of Goose while giving the middle finger makes me “unfit” to run the country. Fuck you, Wolf Blitzer. And you too, Zuckerberg.

Other than the rare exceptional betch who decides she wants to be a power betch and run her own company or something similarly stressful and time-consuming, most betches tend to fit into one of four post-grad categories. If you’re unsure which career path is right for you, don’t worry, we’re here to help.

Here is our “Betches Love This Job” Guide to Post-Grad Life:

The Career Student: This is a smart betch who knows that if she just keeps studying, she’ll never have to work a day in her life at a “real” job. The toughest decision is whether to get your Master’s in Psychology, Sociology, or Anthropology. Maybe an advanced degree in Marketing with a certificate in Consumer Behavior?

Frankly, it doesn’t fucking matter. All this betch cares about is going to school in a city where she can meet a husband, so that by the time she finishes her third Master’s she’ll probably be engaged and free to plan the wedding. Props to the career student, everyone knows the in-laws will totally love the girl who has four degrees.

Caveat: You definitely need some family money to support yourself while you complete your dual-degree in Advanced Adolescent Cyber Bullying and Art Therapy.

The Finance/Consulting/HR Betch: This betch is cut throat. You need to be, if you’re going to endure the grueling recruitment process for banks and consulting firms. But don’t worry, the payoff is huge. Not only will your paycheck be above-average as soon as you graduate, but you don’t even need a professional degree! The extra perk of these jobs is that this is where most bros work after college, so there’s easy access to a large pool of great-on-paper husbands.

Caveat: You might be working 16 hours a day, so consider yourself fucked if you aren’t considering fucking your boss.

The Marketing/PR/Hospitality/Journalism Betch: These jobs are generally lots of fun (who wouldn’t want to plan a press event at Sundance for a hair gel company?), but the salary fucking sucks. It’s ideal for you if you have a backup source of income, you want people to think you’re really pretty and glamorous, or you’re Stephanie Pratt and you’d tell an interviewer that your dream is to design fucking handbags.

Does your major include the words Communications, Public Relations, Hospitality, Sociology, Psychology, Human Development, etc? If you major in one of these but don’t want to go to grad school, you will probably end up working in this category in some capacity. Hotels + PR + Travel and Leisure Magazine = Betchy.

Caveat: For those of you who think you want to go into advertising, news flash: Mad Men isn’t real.

Working for Daddy: Okay, so maybe my grandpa is one of my three references. So what? He thinks I’m like, really sweet!

This isn’t necessarily an option for everybody, but for those lucky betches, please don’t even pretend like you’re doing anything other than killing the hours that your friends and potential husbands are doing actual work.

Caveat: No one takes you seriously when you say you’ve always wanted to work for a company that manufactures geriatric wheelchairs.

So, next time your parents harass you to set up a meeting with your college’s Career Services, just tell them you’ve already been to Betch Career Services and you’ve got it covered. You have three years of work ahead of you, who needs an afternoon meeting getting in the way of today’s afternoon drinking?

And if you’re not married by 28, HAHAHAHA it’s time to start taking work seriously. JK, you probably already are, Office Bitch.

25. The Betch Arch Nemesis

16 Mar

Although betches usually have lots of besties around, we don’t always feel the most positive vibe toward betches we don’t know that well, or those outside of our circle. It’s not that we necessarily dislike them or have anything bad to say about them, it’s just that it’s rare that we would have anything particularly nice to say about them. It’s kind of an ambiguous disinterest, trending toward the negative. It’s an unspoken truth that girls don’t really like other girls.

However, there are certain instances or actions when a betch crosses you in the wrong way and winds up on your Wish You Didn’t Exist List (WYDEL). This is the one kind of exclusive list that no betch is trying to get on.

What are some of the membership benefits of WYDEL?

You always have a #9 nickname for an arch nemesis, and it’s always something really negative, either relating to your personal beef with her or her appearance. Like maybe she looks like a blowfish and conveniently blew your ex-boyfriend, so you affectionately call her Hootie.

Any mention of a girl on your WYDEL triggers an immediate “ugh, I hate that bitch, I wish she didn’t fucking exist,” usually followed by exaggerated stories of your encounters with her, all of which make her look like a complete psycho. Next you move onto the classic face and body criticisms and an array of highly unrealistic secrets you claim to have heard about her. If you’re a less vocal betch, you’ll probably go with the simple, “bitch is fug.” Either way, the automatic response from the bestie group will be, “yeah, she sucks.”

The besties are sooo bored of hearing this. They’ve already heard it five or six times… today.

But there are some betches who get sooo proficient at hating their arch nemesis that any time her name is mentioned in passing, they immediately turn into a hilaaaaarious one-woman show, complete with a list of reasons why this person sucks, plus imitations, role-playing and a monologue. Betches have turned hating into an art form. No bestie can resist the “I Hate Nikki” Variety Hour.

So how does someone go from being your run-of-the-mill ambiguously disliked fellow betch, to the girl you daydream about gaining 80 pounds and working at Dairy Queen? Ah, let me count the ways.

The Ex-BFF: The Ex-BFF is the Paris and Nicole, Jill Zarin and Bethenny, the Heidi and LC. Potential reasons for the falling out: the arch nemesis became extremely lame and obsessed with her boyfriend, got wayyy prettier than you, #1 talked shit about you behind your back, didn’t defend you when her boyfriend called you fat, blah blah blah.

This is often awkward if it’s someone who’s still in your inner circle, so she better hope she doesn’t do something to piss off the rest of the group. Note to Ex-BFF: One arch nemesis in the group, you can maybe survive. Two, you’re dunzo. Say hello to Saturday nights reading your Kindle with Ben and Jerry. Let’s hope the tide doesn’t turn that way.

The Girl Who’s Fucking The Guy You Used To Fuck/The Girl Who Used To Fuck The Guy You’re Currently Fucking: This one is kind of self-explanatory. These girls are Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie.

Anyone can be this girl, so here’s our advice to you: don’t underestimate the power of a betch who doesn’t need to pretend to be nice to you in any sort of social setting. As soon as she finds out your name and stalks you on Facebook, you’re on the WYDEL.

Once a betch has made you her arch nemesis, she’ll be the one you encounter at the bar who’s shooting you death stares while pointing and laughing at you with her friends. Consider yourself lucky. That’s only because she can’t get close enough to spill her drink on you. If you’re dealing with a serious betch, you might even get yourself punched in the face. While some may say this is unladylike, whoever said betches were fucking ladies?

The Roomie Fallout: This situation is Sammi Sweetheart and every other girl on Jersey Shore. You never know how much you hate a betch until you fucking live with her. You may think you’re BFF, but cut to six months later, you’re seriously considering burning all her shoes while she’s at the gym.

Why would you have a falling out with a roommate? Either she’s really disgusting, a secret sociopathic #7 BSCB, she has an annoying boyfriend, or she won’t stop complaining to you about all her fucking problems. Helloooo, read the last post!

You find yourself strategizing when she’ll be in the apartment so you can do things to annoy her, or completely avoid her. When you find yourself wishing you were roommates with the uni-bomber instead of this girl, just start so much shit with her that she moves out, or you have grounds to evict her. You’re a true betch (and bitch!) if you succeed in having this roomie move out. Now the fun part is deciding what to turn her room into. I would turn it into my closet if it wasn’t still infected with your former presence. Drug den anyone? Peace, loser.

If found on a betch’s WYDEL, you should make serious moves to get yourself off that shit. Wanna know what happens when you think you can pull one over on a betch? Just ask Nancy Kerrigan.

24. Insensitivity

15 Mar

“I don’t understand what I did wrong except live a life that everyone is jealous of.” – Charlie Sheen

Although betches don’t necessarily idolize Charlie Sheen, we’re extremely impressed by his ability to say whatever the fuck he wants and not care what anyone thinks. Just like Charlie, this would be our first instinct in response to someone complaining that we only care about ourselves and are insensitive to others’ issues. We really admire him for having the balls to not pretend like he gives a shit about anyone. He’s also our favorite member of the #17 Lucky Sperm Club.

Unfortunately, betches don’t get to share their insensitivity with the entire nation like Charlie does, although we would appreciate the ability to have the media hanging on our every word. We’re jealous betches.

It’s not that betches don’t care about the world, we just care about other shit first. We’re deeply sensitive about the earthquake in Japan, as long as we don’t have to discuss it until after the final rose is handed out on The Bachelor.

Our insensitivity is pretty much reserved for the annoying and insignificant complaints of fellow betches. There’s nothing worse than listening to other people’s issues, especially ones that are clearly not important to you, not in your control, and/or not worth your valuable time.

Aww, sorry you got a bad grade on your test! It’s not my fault you’re against taking Adderall, bitch.

I’m sorry your boyfriend broke up with you for the third time this week… do I look like your fucking therapist? I would love to help you figure out the exact moment when your relationship fell apart, but I’m too busy living my life.

You can’t find your passport and our plane’s leaving in an hour? Thank God! I was wondering how I was gonna get out of rooming with you on Spring Break!

This lack of sensitivity is actually empowering and allows us to be more powerful women in society. Who wants the CEO of their company crying over some measly lawsuit? We totally understand why people don’t want a woman president! No one wants to watch the State of the Union and see some dumb bitch crying over the deficit. Unfortunately we didn’t catch that this year, we had to hit up happy hour that day because it interfered with our usual primetime shows.

When a betch’s bitching is getting to you, just take a deep breath and recite the betch mantra: YOUR PROBLEM IS NOT MY PROBLEM. Next time you see the girl in your English class crying because she doesn’t like the other girls in your group project, your first instinct should be to giggle, rather than console.

The only time it’s considered acceptable for a betch to cry is when she’s wasted, and still, this is restricted to private spaces ONLY. So when you’re looking for a shoulder to cry on, the last one you should look for is that of a fellow betch. We’re pretty sure Stalin’s besties weren’t complaining to him about how their army uniform didn’t go with their purse gun satchel. Even back then they knew not to waste the precious time of people who matter.

If we wanted to give a shit about anyone besides ourselves, we’d get knocked up. At least that person would share our DNA.

23. The Pregame

14 Mar

Since betches always have a lot of shit going on, we often have to pick and choose which activities we can squeeze into our busy schedules. However, there is one activity that is our absolute priority no matter what. Pregaming. Betches will find an excuse to pregame pretty much anything. Besides the obvious major events like #4 birthdays, #12 tailgates, #14 dates, and #20 clubbing, short of taking the LSATs and going to our first day of work, it’s basically mandatory that we get fucked up before any and all activities.

Sorority initiation starting in 20 minutes? NO CHANCE I’m walking into such an event without sparking a j first! We’d all take the $100 fine for being absent before even considering attending sober.

Pregame hard, avoid rufilin.

OMG my cousin’s boyfriend’s dad’s birthday is tonight! Let’s throw a PG to celebrate in his absence! Cheeeeeeers!

So why do betches love pregaming so much? Besides the fact that it’s an excuse to gather our besties to laugh, bond, and #1 talk shit (and a lot of it), pregames are essential in that they ensure that wherever we’re going after, we’re not bored. Not bored = fucked up. If the day after, you still have vivid memories of your time at the bars/clubs/graduation/your grandma’s 90th birthday party, you know you didn’t pregame hard enough. Wait, did I really ask my grandpa for a drag of his cig last night? That’s more like it.

Betches also enjoy the exclusivity of pregames. Who will we invite? Who will be snubbed? Facebook invite or word of mouth?

Should we invite Dani? She’s been so annoying lately, giving me a play by play every 5 minutes of what she’s “up to.” Did I fucking ask what you’re fucking up to?! Whatever, hopefully she’ll bring some drugs.

Julie wouldn’t give me her notes from last week when I was hungover and didn’t go to class? Selfish bitch. She can drink alone!

Obviously as a betch, in addition to hosting pregames, you will be bombarded with invitations to attend a multitude of pre-bar events. Deciding which PG to attend is often one of the toughest decisions of our night.

Ugh, do we want to go to Jamie’s apartment? She’s never good for anything but Georgi! Cheap bitch! And Megan’s loser friends from class will probably be there. Whatever, it’ll be fine, we’ll just sit in the corner and drink their alc, while BBMing each other about how Lauren’s “new boyfriend” is really just a guy she fucked in the bathroom at a bar …once.

One of the biggest impediments to a sick pregame is your lame friend who decides she needs to “be a real person tomorrow” so she “isn’t going to get that fucked up tonight.”‬‪ Usually, that betch is fucked. Everyone will talk shit about her as soon as they part ways at the bar‬‪ and call her out for pretending to be drunker than she is when we’re out‬. WE ALL KNOW you only took 3 shots!!!‬ Being the lone sober betch, or the LSB (not to be confused with #17 LSC), is zero fun, and this betch will usually sit in the corner BBMing her boyfriend and thinking about many how more times she can get away with the “I’m sick” excuse. Bitch you’ve been sick for three fucking weeks.

This betch is not good for anything besides recounting funny drunk stories about the hysterical things you and your besties did when you were blackout, since she will be the only one sober enough to remember. But she’s still fucked because she’ll follow that up with some story about how you made a complete fool of yourself. Uh, sorry you think it’s embarrassing that I fell off the table last night. I personally thought my dismount was flawless.

Everyone knows that the best bonding occurs not over baking cakes and cookies, but over the three too many mimosas consumed during the drunk brunch before Amanda’s birthday lunch. Can I please have a mimosa? Hold the orange juice.

Oh no! It's Earth Day and we haven't pregamed yet!

Betches love a great PG because it combines our favorite things to do and gives us the alcohol lubrication that we need to divulge our deepest secrets. You and a few betches are chillin’ around a bathroom sink during the PG while passing your mail key around… What a perfect opportunity to share the story of how you gave yourself an abortion on spring break! All it took was some ecstasy and cocaine!

So if you’re trying to decide where you’re going tonight, the betchiest pregame should be your first choice. Actually a bro’s PG would be just as good (boys and booze, duh). Expect a shit ton of vodka, an array of the latest techno mixes from djCOHEN (aka the guy that lives down the hall who happens to own big headphones), and the coolest people you know. Remember betches, always bring your A-game to the pregame. It is your responsibility to set an example for others, prove how hard you can rage, and fuck anyone up who tries to get in your way.

Betch of the Week: Perez Hilton

11 Mar

While betches don’t actually #2 follow the news, there are certain things we must keep up with if we want to have anything to talk about with our betch acquaintances. I mean, what would we have to chat about if we couldn’t contribute our two cents on the breaking news that “Scarlett Johansson snuck away with Sean Penn for a seksi 24-hour getaway to Cabo San Lucas.” (Side note: we’re still trying to make sense of how we feel about this. Sean Penn is so old-man #19 ugly hot.) When we do want to be informed on what’s going on in the world Hollywood there’s really only one place we go.

www.perezhilton.com

Many betches might not even know who the president is if not for Perez’s coverage. He manages to make all that dull shit coming out of CNN interesting with his ridiculous doodles and betchy commentary. He’s living proof that if you #1 talk enough shit, it can make you extremely successful. He’s built an entire empire on the basis of shit talking.

You're telling me he isn't a betch?

He’s also hilarious. Remember that time he was accused of child pornography for putting up a picture of Miley Cyrus without panties? Good, we have shit with Miley too. He has shit with TONS of celebrities! Fergie is a great example. We agree with him on that one also. She looks like a constipated transvestite when she performs. Super Bowl halftime show?

Some of you might wonder how he can be a betch, he’s a man! His real name is Mario Armando Lavandeira Jr! Just so you know, a requirement for being a betch is not having a vagina. Betch is a state of mind.

We especially find Perez’s reputation for outing people to be soooo betchy and we wish we could make a living out of gossiping just like he does. Being partially responsible for outing Lance Bass? We already think that’s badass, and even more badass was his response to criticism for doing so. “If you know something to be a fact, why not report it?” That’s how we feel about things. If we know something’s betchy, we report it.

If we could have any gay bestie in the world, he would be it. We even have a similar interest in hot guys! But it’s mostly because he’s all about owning who you are, calling shit like it is, and keeping it real.

“Whether you like me or not, I’m not going away anytime soon. I don’t care if you like me, I just care if you read my website.”

It’s like he’s reading our minds.

22. The Group Photog

10 Mar

Facebook is an extremely important part of The Betch Life, and we all know why. Would anyone give a shit about Facebook if it were a collection of pointless statuses and a platform to play Farmville? No, nobody cares about that freak you knew in 4th grade who friended you for no reason except to stalk your life.

There’s only one reason we constantly check Facebook. Photos. Facebook albums are what makes Sunday a half-acceptable day, and you know you’re going to harass your friend with the camera to put that shit up ASAP.

Let’s talk about the group photog. The group photog is different than the #6 muploader, who takes care of pics on Tuesdays and Sundays when we go out in our second-tier outfits. But the group photog handles weekends and big events like homecoming and Halloween, and you need her to ensure that you have over 1,000 tagged pictures. Anyone who has less than 200 might as well have their profile red-flagged and branded with LOSER at the top.

Group photog gets revenge

The photog is one of the most high-pressure roles in the group. Besides the need to be on constant active camera duty, she’s almost solely responsible for your Facebook image. Almost 2,000 of your 2,500 tagged photos are hers, and the day she makes her albums private will be the end of your betchy reputation on the internet. Her Spring Break album from sophomore year is probably the sole reason that no one will ever hire you.

Being group photog comes with serious responsibilities, and sometimes you’re just one accidentally uploaded photo away from committing one of these serious photog offenses:

Putting up every single pic: Betches look gorg in every picture they take, but no one wants to see 17 versions of the same six girls standing in a different order. This usually means the photog uploads the group picture where she looks the best and casually deletes the others.

(Side note: There are universal steps for approaching the group picture. As soon as you see the photog reach for her camera, everyone immediately scrambles to get the spot in the middle. Obviously you want to be photographed in the center of your bestie group, but if you can’t get there in time and get stuck on the end, make sure to put your hand on your hip so your arm appears #5 skinny.)

But I don't wanna be on the end!!!

Uploading but not tagging: You’re really making me go through and tag YOUR pictures, so everyone can see that I went out of my way to do it? No thanks, no ones supposed to know I’ve even seen this album unless I’m making a HILARIOUS comment on the picture where Jenny is funneling from the top of the stairs. “You go Jenny! WHAT A CHAMP!!” I’d rather let your album fade into Facebook oblivion. That’s what you get for being a lazy bitch who doesn’t tag.

Refusing to delete: Are you kidding me? I have a double chin and four stomach rolls.

Not editing: We expect the group photog to enhance, retouch, boost color, and crop out our appendages if they appear even slightly bloated.

Losing her camera: You lost the picture where the upper-right corner of my forehead looks skinny?! I don’t care if you went to the hospital and had to get your stomach pumped! Keep track of your shit! Get the fuck out of my apartment, betch. And don’t come back until you get a new camera. This one better be fucking touch screen so I can zoom in on myself with ease!

Not being on active camera duty: You’re fired. There are always some events where everyone’s too fucked up and having too great of a time to even care if it’s being documented. While this sounds desirable in theory, there’s always the question: Would we rather have had an amazing time or pictures that make the rest of the world think we had an amazing time? We think you know the answer.

With all this pressure on the group photog, why would anyone want to deal with it? Some betches just like photography… we all know the one who’s trying to be artsy with her camera. Sometimes the photog is the non-betchy accident in the friend group who’s really only there out of necessity and because you’ve already been friends for three years of college so it’s too late to get rid of her. She assumes the role of photog as part of being the group bitch.

Sometimes a betch just craves the control that comes with the job and wants to show everyone how amazing her life is and how many formals she goes to. She has the power of God to upload that pic where you look like a whale, or the one where you look amazingggg and she looks like a whale. If a picture is taken and never uploaded onto Facebook, did it really exist? Answer: NO. Like a Goddess on Mount Olympus, the group photog gets to decide.

All in all, while there’s a lot of room for the group photog to fuck up, we need her to take on this responsibility and we’re all grateful. To show your appreciation for your photog bestie, just try to minimize your eye rolling when she’s snapping pics at the pregame and pulls the most painful card she has. “It’s my camera, shot not end!”

21. Abbrevs

9 Mar

Since betches are such a powerful force in society, it seems natural that we should have our own language, which thankfully we already do! If you’re a true betch, don’t worry, you’re already fluent. Yes, that’s right, we’re talking about our favorite form of communication, speaking in abbrevs.

Betches love to abbreviate anything. We’re very busy people and it saves us a lot of time. Who has time for anything these days, between hot yoga, finding someone to do our homework, and picking up iced coffee? Every time you say “definitely” instead of “def,” or “totes,” you’re wasting half a second of your precious life.

The standard abbreviations that everyone uses are pretty straight forward, but every once in a while you may come across a betch who speaks in her own special dialect. Her entire life sounds like one huge instant message from 2001. TTYL! BRB! OMG! She will actually say these letters in conversation, and usually no one will acknowledge how weird it is. Forget Shakespeare, it’s like, totes obvi that using abbrevs would’ve made his sonnets wayyyy shorter. That’s right, betches are efficient.

A common habit is the highly necessary addition of ‘Z’ to the end of any word, or to replace ‘S’ at the end of something that’s pluralized. While betch-haters and old people might need a second to register what it means when we ask our parents for some “dollaz to go to PV for SB, where I’ll finally get to cash in my V!”… every betch knows exactly what was just said. Triz story.

A betch can abbreviate anything. Just when you thought certain words couldn’t be abbreviated any more, a betch will easily prove you wrong.

For example, “FYI, I’m going to The VS to get some more Ty-Ty PM. Need anything?”

After this, even her bestie might be confused. “What the FUCK are you talking about?”

“Obvi, I’m just saying that I need to go to CVS to get more Tylenol PM! Get with it, betch!”

(Side note: sometimes abbreviations become a hybrid between a #9 nickname and an abbrev. See what we did there with CVS? The betchiest among us will know how to cleverly abbreviate things that are already abbreviated.)

Abbrevs are extremely useful in every day life, and we’re surprised that they haven’t caught on so quickly amongst the general population. You got in a fight with someone at the bar? That bitch is a fat C! Sorry she’s just jeal of my BF! How do I tell Marissa that she looks chubs in that shirt? Awk sauce!

Abbrevs, along with nicknames, are some of the most helpful tools we have for #1 talking shit. Some people are so awful that they only deserve to have a few letters of their name spoken, kind of like Voldemort. TG I didn’t run into ADR in the lobby today, she never shuts the fuck up and I just wanna go back to my apt and smoke pot!

You can truly tell a betch’s feelings by how she abbreviates and in what context. When you BBM your BFF Becky and she throws you the “nm u,” you know the betch is pissed. If you get one of these, you should just respond with “K.” A true betch knows how to unlock the power of the various versions of “okay” to convey her mood.

Abbrevs take over Gossip Girl. Next stop, 60 Minutes!

Twitter, with its 140 character limit, is the perfect outlet for betches to use abbrevs without being criticized for butchering the English language. How else do you expect us to tell everyone the really complex and important thoughts in our heads in so few words? Abbrevs to the rescue!

We also like to use abbrevs while #2 not keeping up with the news in order to reference our favorite celebrity gossip. Linzlo’s out of jail, TomKat is obvs so unhappy, do you think KFed will ever make a comeback? Ugh, miss him.

Betches love abbrevs. They bond us with other betches. However, if you find yourself telling your great-aunt that you’re D to go to lunch, or your boss that you probz won’t make it to the office on Fri, beware that some people might not take you seriously. Like all historical injustices that take time to reform, such as segregation and Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, we’re still fighting for the Right to Abbrev. When betches take over the Sup Court and the House of Reps, our first law will be to implement Abbrevs as a Second Language. Adios, ESL!

Betches and Bud: It’s Complicated

8 Mar

Throughout our time on earth as betches, we’ve come to understand that a common but offensive criticism about our kind is that we all tend to act the same. Actually, those people should shut the fuck up and go back to the library. We’re all fucking unique. See, Jamie wears a black leather jacket, and mine is camel. So what if we got it at the same market in Florence! But since betches love to get wasted, an important aspect in which we’re different is how we react to marijuana. We decided to break down the betch by their varied relationships with smoking weed.

The Stoner Betch: This betch is the one who MUST be high for any and all activities. When you suggest going to see Hotel Rwanda without smoking first she will look at you like you just suggested going to the gym without sneakers. She probably started hot boxing her mom’s Mercedes in 11th grade, has been high at multiple family functions, and is closer to her dealer in the projects than he is with his own mother. The Stoner Betch will smoke before every meal and will claim she “isn’t hungry unless she smokes first.” She thinks this enables her to stick to her #5 diet, but she’s completely fooling herself because she’s high all the time.

The Stoner has her own piece, usually a bong or a bubbler. Bowls are so 9th grade. It also goes without saying that she knows how to roll her own blunt and joint and she’s “seriously considered selling pot,” if only because she smokes more weed than her entire apartment complex combined and is sick of going to her dealer. This may be followed by a week-long attempt at dealing before she realizes she owes herself a lot of money.

For the Stoner Betch, smoking weed alone is a normal occurrence. Not smoking weed all day is an abnormal occurrence. Everyone was impressed when she immediately called out James Franco for being high while hosting the Oscars.

Girls just wanna have fun

The Non-Stoner Betch: This betch is usually a total alcoholic. She’s often the one who has had one or two bad experiences with weed. (For example: After taking her first hit ever in the freshman dorms on 4/20, she thought she was dying and freaked out on the Stoner Betch. “I NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL! I’M CALLING THE RA! YOU’RE A BAD FRIEND, STONER BETCH!!”) Ever since, she does not smoke weed at all or maybe on rare occasions. The Non-Stoner/Alcoholic Betch can drink anyone under the table and will actively promote blacking out every night. Even though she doesn’t smoke and may even obtain a contact high from hanging out with the Stoner Betches, she’s still chill so she’s not known as a fucking narc.

On the rare occasion that this betch does take a maximum of two hits (probably by accident while she’s blackout), it will probably result in her sitting up in her bed all night bugging out because she “hears voices downstairs.” Even though she can’t handle her marijuana, this betch is still the shit. So, when you ask her if she smokes and she says no, the proper response to her would be “you’d be a lot cooler if you did.”

The Sometimes Smoker Betch: This is the betch who lies somewhere between the Stoner and Non-Stoner Betch (who would’ve guessed?). On the occasions that she’s down to blaze, she will approach the Stoner Betch with a proposition, “let’s smoke tonight!” The Stoner Betch will get SOOO excited. The Sometimes Smoker will probably not be smoking unless it’s her nighttime activity because she’ll claim that if she smokes during the day, she just “won’t have the energy to go out. I’ll need to take a nap!” At this much anticipated smoke sesh, she’ll get high from about five hits, which will make the Stoner Betch extremely envious. “Shit, if I got high as easily as you, I’d gain an hour a day from not constantly needing to pack my bong…”

127 hours without pot? WILD.

The Sometimes Smoker will usually react to weed in one of two ways. The first possibility is that she will get uncontrollable giggles and munchies. When she momentarily stops laughing, she’ll start snacking and continue for the next 40-60 minutes. She will then go to bed and claim that she needs to spend the whole day at the gym tomorrow. The alternative reaction is that she’ll be completely silent… but still have the munchies. After she smokes she will not say one word. She will melt into the couch with her eyes glazed over, and when prompted with the question, “yo how are you doing? You’re mad quiet,” she’ll reply, “I’m just really, reallyyyy high.” This will be the end of her speaking for the night. We’ve alllll smoked with this character.

So you see, betches interact with weed differently. It isn’t for everyone. But for the Stoner Betch, you really need to get to Amsterdam stat. That place will open up your eyes to a whole new meaning of getting high. If you’re smart and #3 studying abroad, you’ll go to The Bushdocter Café, where you’ll find the writers of this blog have signed their names on the wall upstairs. You’ll also find the best weed cakes in the city. Trust us, we tried several.

Remember betches, always be safe, why drink and drive when you can smoke and fly?

20. Clubbing

7 Mar

Thanksgiving Eve, New Year’s Eve, Memorial Day weekend, Tuesday. What do these have in common, besides being the days your grandma calls you? “No grandma, I’m not seeing anyone special”…Well, other than that “special guy” from down the hall who I fucked in the laundry room last weekend. No, these days are important because every betch knows that her presence at a nightclub is mandatory.

While betches are happy basically anywhere they can get drunk, clubs are especially near and dear to our hearts. Ever since that first dance floor hookup when we were just little Betches-in-Training going to teen clubs, we haven’t been able to spend enough time in these raging temples of house music, drugs, and debauchery. So what’s so great about clubs?

Absolutely nothing. For the “of age” betch, nothing is more infuriating than the wrath of underlings trying to squeeze their skinny asses into a seat at your friend’s table. Maybe the fun lies in getting to see every fucking kid you’ve ever met at Lauren and Brittany’s Birthday Bash!!! Finding out you actually have zero degrees of separation with a stranger is pretty exciting for about half a second before you immediately stop caring.

You're a doorman. DOORMAN.

So why do we keep going back for more? Simple answer. Exclusivity. While the crowd can sometimes be an annoyance, you realize that people you know are generally the fucking shit, so they would be at the same place as you. The mere thought of those less cool people clawing at the bouncer to show him their IDs makes our automatic entrance that much more special.

A classic comment overheard on the line at the door usually sounds something like… But it’s my friend Adam’s 21st birthday and he has a table! He just BBMed me and told me I’m on the list!

Dream on fatty, everyone knows a purple BBM ain’t worth shit.

Honestly, what’s NOT to love about an establishment that screens its entrants so the ugly girls can’t come in and guys are only welcome if they buy tables and multiple bottles that you get to drink?

And then there’s always that one betch in your bestie group who, for whatever reason, does not get in. Maybe she started shit with the bouncer, who really knows? That sucks, but it’s not your fucking problem. Sorry, but everyone knows that once you get to the bouncer it’s every betch for herself. Meet you at the bar around the corner in 45 minutes!! …and 3 hours.

Good for you if you know where this is.

If you’re cool enough to make it past the front door, it’s time for the next challenge. BATHROOMS. The whole “you can’t have two people in the same stall” shit reallyyyy fucks with our sharing practices. We all know sharing isn’t betchy, but on club nights we make special arrangements, so please, dear bathroom attendant, just let me do my fucking thing. I’ll tip you five dollars over minimum wage!

As a betch, you’ll likely know at least two club promoters in whatever city you’re in who will constantly text you, pleading with you to come to the latest openings. Often these promoters are just bros from high school who are trying to avoid getting a real summer job. But who’s keeping track anyway!? He’s promising you a night of free alcohol, possibly even dinner, along with the chance to meet hot guys and celebrities and dance the night away with your hottest besties! Those bros who bought a table will probably feel pretty cool since they’re hanging out with betches, but just remember that they’re basically paying $2,000 for this table just to have an excuse to talk to you. You thought your Balenciaga was an investment, this bro gets to spend almost 20 minutes with you!

A betch will tell you that the best clubs are in New York City or LA, followed by whatever city she #3 studied abroad in. In reality though, it’s not about the city you’re in, because just about every major city has sick clubs. The point is that the betch will always be found at the absolute hottest, most exclusive spot around. When you’re stuck behind that velvet rope, the party won’t be the only thing you’re missing that night.

Even though we’re die hard club-goers, we realize that the experience can sometimes fucking suck. But no matter how much we might shit on them, we love clubs, we are clubs, and clubs would be nothing without betches to fall dance all over their tables and couches. So, if you’re looking for one of us, we’ll probably be grinding the night away at the trendiest club of the moment, crossing our fingers that the Wall Street Bro getting us drunk was just joking about still living with his parents.

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