The B word...

I hate bitches. You know, bitches. Like the lady behind the counter at checkout who's glaring at you when it's actually her fault that she scanned the bunches of bananas too many times...or the guy who rides your ass the entire highway, only to pull off into the Walmart parking lot. Like, really? You're ready to kill myself and you to get to Walmart. Or the military wife whose husband is an officer so she thinks that warrants her a salute? 

Yeah you heard me right. Umm, no bitch. Last time I checked you're still a civilian. You didn't go through boot camp, officer school or none of those things. I will not address you as 'Mrs. Officer 'Yadayada'. I'd rot in the eighth round of hell before I'd do so. And for you to ask a Marine to salute you because you happened to drive your husband's truck that day to go through the base gates makes you look like the ass that you are. You need to check yourself. Oh, and the day that you mistake me for a Marine and ask me to salute you will be the day you ask your husband to request a new duty station. 

'Tis all. Bye.