Hey big momma!
I see you girlfriend. Rest assured, the world sees you! You had a point to make, and listen honey- lord knows you’re out here making your fucking point. You’re one big, bad, crazy, scary bitch, I gotta give it to you! We are impressed, to say the least. Everyone is out here hating on you- ruthlessly calling you “catastrophic”…”destructive”…”devastating” and then there’s all this non-sense fat-shaming stuff! Ouch. Brutal. I hear them whispering obscenities like Irma is the size of TEXAS! Irma is bigger than Ohio! Head for the hills! She’s so big and wide she’ll sit on the WHOLE state of Florida and wipe everyone out! I mean, come on now! What are we, twelve? Grow the fuck up Channel 7. Seriously! I sense your anger on this one girl- this is no time for fat jokes!
But that’s all they’re good for darling (the media I mean). And the truth is, that they don’t know shit, nor do they give a shit about the truth. The truth is, “truth” does not pay the bills. Peace never makes headlines. In this day and age, anything goes. The innocent are decapitated by the row- left headless for the sake of creating headlines. In a reporter’s life, chaos pays the car lease. Drama pays the mortgage. Exaggerated, twisted, and manipulated versions of the truth pay the wardrobe and the gym contracts. You’re out there feeding the enemy though! Taking from the poor and giving to the rich like you Robin Hoodrat. Look at you! You’re a warm fucking wet-mess!
But on a more compassionate note, I want you to know, from one thick, impatient, wild, powerful bitch to another, that I fucking get it. I
respect get you, Irma. I can see that there’s been trouble in paradise and I totally believe in the deepest, darkest corners of my grey, little cold heart that you never intended to wreak havoc upon us. You never meant to lead this life of natural annihilation. You and I are uncomfortably very much alike you know- which means I like your style, but you’re technically still a fucking bitch, girlfriend. You see, you and I…we bottle our emotions up inside for so damn long, that the pressure builds and builds until we implode and the remnants of our shattered hearts spread like an ash-rain made of razor-sharp bits and pieces. There’s no controlling this nuclear-level of temperamental shit once it gets to that level doll-face. No one can run or hide from that kind of wrath. I feel you. I fucking hate you right now, but I feel you.
But let’s talk about what they DON’T know. Let’s talk about the science here Boo-boo-Kitty (not that anything can justify the disasters-of-a-psycho-bitch-on-the-loose that you’re leaving behind in trails) but is it NOT a scientific fact that behind every “crazy” bitch, there’s a fuckboy who made her this way? Fuck yes. It is! The facts are there to back us up girl- we were NOT born “cray”! MEN make us fucking CRAY.
You can be born gay into this world but you CANNOT be born CRAY. The Universe does not fuck with the insane. It has aliens and blackholes and super novas and dimensions and time travel and a bunch of other complex clusters of sci-fi shit to deal with as it is.
Harvey did this to you. That motherfucking fuckboy fucker. You loved that boy so damn hard and so damn deep that he made you lose whatever was left of your damn mind. Just when you thought your love story had sprouted right from the the middle of the warm Atlantic where you fell in love, the pussy just up and left you without so much as a lame “it’s not YOU, it’s me Irma- you deserve better than me”. HE RIPPED-current and DIPPED-in your deep blue AND NEVER. LOOKED. BACK.
Admit it though Irma, this dude has always had a fuckboy “player” reputation and you knew that. He’s constantly surrounded by European and American models that come and go with zero strings attached. The guy is a fucking disaster who lives on the fast-wave. I mean come on! Then he meets this one slutty Mexican bitch named KATIA and suddenly he’s crossing an ocean just to get a taste of something quick and new because her profile on Tinder claims she can “engulf” a man whole and who can resist that? I’m pissed off FOR you Irma, I can feel your pain on this. But how did you fall for this category-dick-shitstorm anyways?!
Yes it does, sister. YES. IT. DOES. And that heart of yours, so big like the vast open sea, couldn’t take anymore betrayal and pain could it? And Like most women, you went through all-of-the-heartbreak-stages. You suffered and endured the indignation of all of the feels.
The thing is, big momma- you were just too much fucking woman for him. You were too strong, too independent, too concentrated, too intense. Fuckboys can’t deal with powerhouse woman like you and I, Irma. They’re not even worth our time, but we don’t ever realize that until it’s too late, and the damage has been done, am I right? We’re impulsive, compulsive, obsessive, and shameless. We want what we want and we will stop at nothing to get it. Sometimes, we take things a bit far though don’t we? You’ve been so blindsided by that fuckboy you haven’t stopped to think about what you’re even doing.
People have lost their fucking LIVES in the wake of your lovestruck war-zone. You’re becoming a home-wrecker, Irma. No one likes a home-wrecker that shit ain’t even cute. And now, to make shit worse- your scumbag, lowlife ex JOSE decided to slide into your DM since you’ve decided to be so fucking LOUD and ratchet about your personal problems all over the world. Now Jose is acting all thirsty and irrational, looking at your little power trip, thinking how “cute” you look when you’re angry and missing you like:
And you’re all like No way Jose! Don’t you EVEN! I mean, come on boy! Maybe size ain’t everything but you don’t EVEN got the “motion in the ocean” going on either so please. BOY BYE!
YA’LL ARE A FUCKING RIOT. This Atlantic Triangle has GOT to come to an end. Bermuda ain’t got SHIT on this triangle. Jesus! Ya’ll messy. You couldn’t keep all this behind closed doors though?!
I say you’ve caused enough of a mess honey. Seriously, wrap it the fuck up. We know well-behaved women rarely make history and rest assured, you have MADE history hun. Now get it the fuck together! You can’t keep this up forever, you know? Eventually, you’ll break down and your whole world will crumble and fall apart right from the core. Why even go down like that? Have some mercy on yourself and on us darling would ya?
What you need to do, is Let (clap) him (clap) GO (clap). Put on some lip gloss and mascara, throw on your favorite heels, grab a drink with your girls, relax, and DO YOU BOO-BOO. Fuckboys are NOT worth it. You can handle this. Let me know if you wanna talk girl-to-girl but you’re gonna have to give me back my wifi and my cable before I lose my SHIT. Also, I’d appreciate if you left my family in Tampa the hell out of your drama and the rest of my state for that matter. And the rest of my country for THAT fucking matter.
Let’s keep it civil big momma. Let’s be friends. Let’s get through this together…. let us FUCKING LIVE.