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The Art of B*tching- ‘Car Business’ by Rebekah Tripp

Okay, I realize before I begin that I have little room to complain due to the fact that I have yet to be plagued with car issues until this week.  However, now I’m in the club of shitty car issues (and Welcome to the club indeed!) and so I feel that venting is perfectly appropriate.  There is nothing that can sour your damn day faster than car problems.  Am I right? Can I get an Amen? Betta Recognize!

Also, is it just me or does it seem as though car issues seem to have a sort of snowball effect.  It’s never just one thing….it’s never ever just ‘fixed’.  There’s always some freakin complication to make my existence more hellish than a day at my retail job in the mall has already made it!

Day 1 – Car on the fritz.  While I know as much about cars as Whitney Houston knew about sobriety (too soon?) I knew that something was amiss.  I told the hubs that he needed to take it to a mechanic the next day.  Yes people, I defer car issues to my man.  Why?  Cause at some point in our lives I’m going to have to push our spawn through my lady bits, that’s why.

Day 2 – Leaving for an audition.  Car doesn’t start.  Hubs did not take it in when I told him.  Am I always right?  I’m always right!!  So, I take our runner up car and he promises to fix broken car.  He gets our friends to come over in order to jump broken car. Would you believe it….broken car starts right the f*ck up!  No jump needed!! WHAT????  I had an audition broken car!!  Granted, for a non paying gig..but still! 

Day 3-4 – Car is being fixed.  They say it needs spark plugs but the battery is okay.  I have no idea what a spark plug does.  Still don’t. I didn’t even Wikipedia to find out.

Day 5 – Car place finally fixes the car. $300 bones!! Hubs goes to pick it up.  Car place says that the battery isn’t holding a charge now and that it needs a new battery.  Hubs b*tches and moans and car place gives him a battery for free.  I swear to all things holy, I have never been more attracted to that man as I was in that moment.  Confrontation, FREE battery…club me over the head and take me back to our cave, oh wonderful man of mine!!

Day 6- Drive fixed up car to work.  It’s a lovely 5 minute ride.  Cut to 9 hours later.  I come out to my car…start it…try to start it up.  Not happening.  Not only is it not happening but the hazards are turning on and off, the doors are locking by themselves, and the lights are turning on and off.  Not only will my car not work but it is also now possessed and doing some crazy Linda Blair sh*t. I then walk a few blocks in the friggity freezing cold and my roommate meets me and picks me up.  Thank heaven for that angel and thank heaven for the Gentleman Jack I had a glass of when I got home.

Day FREAKING 7 -  I failed to mention where my car was parked when it didn’t start…a mall parking garage….the HARDEST PLACE FROM WHICH TO TOW A CAR! I call this guy…he brings a tiny truck…hooks my car up..and in the process locks the keys in it.  When he finally gets the car to the body shop, which is like 30 miles away (thanks for that, hubs) the grand total is $260! Dear Lord just punch me in the boob and shave my head why don’t you! So…now it sits…waiting to be fixed.  

It’s been a pain in the bum and I’ve gotten just a smidge depressed about the whole situation.  I feel like I’m in an episode of Quantum Leap where everything is going wrong and Sam just wants to fix the problem and try to leap home.  If you don’t get that reference…stab yourself in the eye with a butter knife and then..once you’ve stopped bleeding…Netflix that sh*t. 

I am now, drowning my sorrows in a bottle of champagne…why you ask…cause I’m a playa pimp and I roll like one…that’s why!!  I hope that none of you are plagued by car bullsh*t but if you are..please know…you are not alone..I am here with you…though we’re far apart…you’re always in my heart…10 points if you know that song.  5 trillion points if you started singing it as you read it.

"Titling it:  This is what chases away my retail blues." - Rebekah Tripp
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The Art of B*tching- ‘Retail’ by Rebekah Tripp


So…..recently folks…I changed jobs.  Hallelujah!! Thank the Lord!!  Granted….I’m still working with the general public, however, this time…I don’t have to serve them food.  Big step up.  BIG step.  I now work in a clothing store.  Which…I must say…has some magnificent perks…like big, fat discounts on more clothes that I don’t need but must have.  Think the hubs is happy about that sh*t…not on your life..but guess what…if he wants me to be the trophy wife that I aspire to be…I needs me some new duds!

As I was saying…retail.  It’s a bit of a Bermuda Triangle.  You can easily lose yourself in the clothes, the shopping, the folding, the markdowns…don’t let it happen.  Don’t be the Amelia Earhart of the customer service biz.  Most of us are looking for a new job, looking to change jobs, needing a change of pace.  Well, if you’re thinking about working at a clothing store…let me give you a few things to think about to help you make this decision; a few things I’ve learned in my extensive two weeks.

It’s BORING-  People, on the average, don’t really shop a ton at small, over priced clothing stores.  Be prepared to sit on your *ss, Swiffer the sh*t out of the floor, talk about the insanely mundane with your co workers who are 10 years younger than you, or try to fit your forearm into the legs of a double zero pair of jeans.

The Crazies – There are people that ‘shop’ (walk the mall and enter store to store without a single purchase) because they are lonely.  I use the term, crazies, very lightly.  These people are harmless and ultimately lovely.  But steel yourself to them.  They have some bizarre stories that you might be caught off guard by (like telling you their best friend died a month prior by falling and hitting their head and that they’ve just spent all day crying with their best friend’s daughter…yep…it happened)  These folks, as sweet as they seem, can turn on a dime.  Same guest as above came in to the store a few weeks prior and ranted, incredibly loudly, that the maintenance workers in the mall don’t speak English and shouldn’t have jobs.  Yea…I say it with a heavy heart but….CRAZY!

The fitting room – I will admit, at least 50% of the people conduct themselves in an appropriate manner in the fitting rooms.  The other 50%…here are some tips motherf*ckers:

    -If you are going to try on jeans…wear some underwear!!  What is wrong with you??  Women….barf..and you know why that’s barf.  Men…when you don’t wear underwear and you come out of the dressing room in your jeans….I can see it…yep…IT…I can see it..and most times it’s gross..other times..Thank you.

    -You’re not 5 anymore and your mom isn’t going to clean up your clothes!! I’m not saying that you have to hang everything up back on the sales floor but for the love of all things holy…keep it freakin orderly!!

    -I don’t work on commission..so..I’m not a car salesman…but I do expect that if you take 30 things in the dressing room with you…you’re going to buy more than a tank top.  If you’re not…don’t come in to my f*cking store. 

Alright my darlings.  I’ve said my peace.  If you still choose venture into that great chasm of sales..so be it.  Go cautiously and wear something cute. 

You’re almost dead old man..chill out.

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The Art of B*tching- ‘Cranky Old Men’ by Rebekah Tripp

You know what I hate, when people disappear for freakin ever and then all of a sudden show up like it’s no big deal.  Then you sit there and feel like the *sshole, cause you’re thinking, “Where the F have you been?” So, in order to circumvent all that sheezy….I shall call a spade a spade.  I been gone fools.  However, like a late period….I’m back and I know you are oh so glad to see me!

Alright, topic of conversation/bone of contention.  First, let me preface this by saying that I love old people like I love my mom and cat.  Unconditionally love them.  If they have canes or walkers, I’m a goner; tears, blubbering, following them and holding the door open for them wherever they go.  There is however, a rare breed of old person that does not grip my heart like Jessica Tandy in Fried Green Tomatoes.  What do I speak off?  The cranky *ss, crotchety old man whose a tad too chauvinistic and d*ckish for his own damn good.  You’re almost dead old men..chill out.

I shall present, as is appropriate fashion, an example of one particularly old *ss man that rubbed me the wrong way.  I was headed to my local Starbucks (which is walking distance but I drove) and I was behind this baby blue Mercedes.  The old man driving it was turning left, as was I, and he started to make his turn and decided to put on his brakes and go .001 mph through the intersection.  Well, I’m beyond halfway out at this point and the light is about to turn red.  What’s a beautiful, talented, witty girl to do?  I had to pull around him on the right into the right hand lane.  Well…in that moment he finds the gas and almost careens into my car.  Due to my evasive maneuvers and having watched The Fast and The Furious too many times to count, I’m able to avoid a crash.   (Let’s face it…even at 1 mph my little Rav 4 would crumple like tin foil, mama can’t let that happen).  Well…then Wilford Brimley drives in front of me at, no exaggeration, 2 mph until we get to the entrance to the parking lot.  We park a spot away from each other (he pulls into a handicapped spot…I’m just saying).  He exits his vehicle and says to me, “Sweetheart, you can’t pass people in the intersection.” Two things first, you look like Liberace’s great uncle and I was completely ready to avoid a confrontation with your old *ss but now I shall have to destroy you.  I reply, “You left me hangin in that intersection sir, there could have been an accident.” To which he replied, “Why is it I can never win with a woman?” To which I say, “Didn’t you know that we’re always right?” Then old man says, “Not in my household.”, Then young woman says, “Too bad for her.” Alright…it wasn’t my most exciting argument…but I bet that old guy had to put a nitro pill under his tongue. 

The whole thing was ridiculous and unnecessary.  I just feel like this type of old man gives old people a bad name.  So, I propose a solution.  It’s up to us in society to deem what is acceptable and what is unacceptable, right?  I propose that when we find an old person of a certain demeanor; old ass, bitter, rotten old men, we do like the Eskimos did way back in the day.  Put him on an ice float and push him out to sea.  Let him harass the seals and sh*t.  Keep this solution in mind next time you happen upon this rare breed.  Senicide….it can happen.  The Eskimos considered it an honor….so…there’s that.

So WHY….WHY does poop keep showing up on my lawn. I know it’s not my neighbors. How do I know? Because I freakin watch them, okay??!! Cause I’m gonna solve this puzzle faster than Tom Hanks in Da Vinci Code and you don’t solve puzzles by sitting idly by!! You have to investigate.

Rebekah Tripp

The Art of B*tching- ‘Poop’ by Rebekah Tripp

The Art of B*tching: ‘Poop’ by Rebekah Tripp

That’s right, literally, sh*t.  I find that when I feel I’ve nothing to b*tch about, I need only look at the world directly around me and BOOM…right in the face—-a subject hits me…not poop.

We all know, as I will scream from every roof top, that I am a cat person.  There are some folks that are vehement cat people.  I’m fairly easy going in the whole cat/dog, ‘which is better’ war.  I love my cat, I think cats rock but I understand that it depends on your personality whether you’re a cat or dog person.  However, if you want to start a battle with me and argue that dogs are better than cats, it’s on like Donkey Kong, Motherf*cker.  Okay….let me wind myself down…back to topic. There are other folks who are dog people.  That’s cool.  However, being dog people, these folks must realize that there are certain responsibilities that come with taking care of an animal that is less self sufficient and less intelligent than a cat.

Let’s cut the poop, we’re talking potty time folks.  It’s not my fault that you have an animal that you need to take out of doors in order for it to do it’s pee/poop business.  You knew that was the case when you signed on to the deal.  Am I right? Yes. Always.  So, if that’s the case, if you knew the score and it was..you take your happy ass outside with your dog so it can take a crap, then you also must have surmised that taking a dog out to poop is like being in some historic outdoor forest…you take the poop with you.  No leave behinds.  I think, on the whole, there are a great many folks that understand this rule, and yes, it is a freakin rule.  So WHY….WHY does poop keep showing up on my lawn.  I know it’s not my neighbors.  How do I know?  Because I freakin watch them, okay??!!  Cause I’m gonna solve this puzzle faster than Tom Hanks in Da Vinci Code and you don’t solve puzzles by sitting idly by!!  You have to investigate.  This mystery is called, the Case of the Dumb Sh*t (this title has multiple meanings).

Stay tuned folks.  I will be back to report my findings.  In the meantime, if you’re a dog person, fine…so you have issues of co dependency..no big deal, you’re a caretaker…STILL….if you don’t pick up after your precious pup’s *ss droppings…and you have the misfortune of running into me…there will be problems.  Your dog didn’t make art for the world to see, you’re dog took a deuce…now take that plastic bag out of your pocket and go pick it up while it’s still warm. Thanks.

Read more of Rebekah’s sweet verbage here: http://saysomethingfunnybitch.tumblr.com/rebekahtripp

The Art of B*tching- ‘Horns’ by Rebekah Tripp

Rebekah Tripp isn’t saying she is an expert at rules of the road…..but she is.  An expert.

Moments in which the use of a horn are acceptable:

http://saysomethingfunnybitch.tumblr.com/rebekahtripp

Read it!  And spread to your friends!

The Art of B*tching- ‘Gender’ by Rebekah Tripp

The adventures of an ambiguously gendered cat…

MEEEOOOWWWWW….

http://saysomethingfunnybitch.tumblr.com/rebekahtripp

The Art of B*tching- ‘Placenta’ by Rebekah Tripp

Gross. Gross.  SUPER GROSS!! 

Attention Ladies:  We love your babies, just not the stuffed animals made from the after birth.

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The Art of B*tching- ‘Princess’ by Rebekah Tripp

Sending all you Princesses (you heard me girl)- into the weekend right!

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A taste of Dessert from ‘The Art of B*tching’ by Rebekah Tripp

A very dear friend imparted this to me and she tells it far better then I, but you got me..so deal.  On the East Coast there is a fast food restaurant similar to Popeye’s.  It’s called Bojangles.  One fine day a gentleman was standing at the counter ordering *ssloads of food.  Meal upon meal upon meal upon meal.  The cashier said to the man, “Is this all just for you?” The man replied, “B’SCUSE ME, MOTHERF*CKER??”, to which the cashier responded, “I don’t know your life!”.

Read more of this article here:

http://saysomethingfunnybitch.tumblr.com/rebekahtripp

“B’SCUSE ME, MOTHERF*CKER??”,

The Art of B*tching- ‘Disappointment’ by Rebekah Tripp

What happens when hot make actors get….gross?

This B*tch slap REEKS from disappointment!

http://saysomethingfunnybitch.tumblr.com/rebekahtripp

Trailer for 'The Greatest Adventure Yet.' from Misty Madden on Vimeo.

SSFB B*tches Bekah Tripp and Alisha Gaddis (and a bunch more funny ones) are in this hilarious film ‘The Greatest Adventure Yet.’

Official Selection on the Chicago Comedy Film Festival.

Watch the teaser now, and eagerly anticipate the full length! 

The Art of B*tching- ‘Gawking’ by Rebekah Tripp

“To stare stupidly; gape”; this definition brought to you by dictionary.com, one of my favorite websites.  This week, there was a pretty awful car accident in front of my apartment.  I was in the ladies room, minding my own business, the window of which happens to face the street, and all at once there was a monstrous crash that seemed to last 15 seconds.  The noise, the smoke, the hullaballoo outside drew instant response from me, my roommate and my neighbors.  Everyone was on the street in mere moments, several people on their cell phones calling the police.  Once the police showed up my roomie and I headed back into the apartment.  The cavalry had arrived.  My neighbors still lingered.  Then the folks involved in the accident were carted off to the hospital.  My neighbors still lingered.  Then the car was being cut up in little pieces to assist in towing.  My neighbors did not move an inch.  I was fascinated.  There was visiting occurring, people that had never spoken were kibitzing like old friends.  The gaggle of gawkers stayed until the bitter end; until the last bit of rubble on the street had been scooped up by the clean up crew. Then, finally, the folks dispersed and everyone went back to minding their business and no one else’s. 

Why is this?  Is it because an event, be it tragedy or otherwise, draws humans to each other.  Maybs.  Is it because this occurrence was exciting, however drab the circumstances and it drew people from their pent up boring monotony to something new and different?  Yep…I think we’re getting warmer.  I must say, I don’t understand.  Waiting to make sure people are alright or taken care of…I get that.  Relishing every moment of an awful scene of carnage…staying until the bitter end…what’s the point?  Even if it isn’t something as terrible as a car accident..even if it’s a happy event…like…oh…say…a Royal Wedding perhaps…why are we so overcome with a need to be involved, informed, and receiving as much information as we can possibly take in regarding situations that do not directly relate to us.  Why do we continue to fixate on situations that lead us away from focusing on ourselves? 

Perhaps this seems like mere rhetoric.  Perhaps it seems I’m making a mountain out of a mole hill.  Well guess what, I don’t give a sh*t.  I’m about to make a big leap here from my car accident story so stay with me.  It seems our culture is captivated by chaos and tragedy and glitz and glamour and sparkly things…more and more.  Look at what we watch on TV!  The Real Housewives of Topeka, Kansas…booosh*t.  I realize that pretty much every person on Earth watches these shows…and I may have just offended you….suck it.  Hear some truth.  But first…so we’re friends again…I don’t judge you for watching the shows but I do think the shows are sad and the people on them pathetic.  ANNDDD I think that by watching these f*ckers we encourage their deplorable and craptastic actions and behavior.  These reality shows blow.  I’m talkin Mafia Wives, Real Housewives, Teen Mom crap NOT Deadliest Catch, Swamp People, Hookers on the Point. Let’s be clear…if you’re a real life crab fisherman, Gator catcher, or hooker…I want to know your story!  If you do meaningless things and the only reason you’re popular is because you consistently treat people sh*ttier and sh*ttier and continue to do outrageous things to garner as much attention as your ego driven *ss can stand….well, I think you’re unfortunate and desperate, neither of which will ever attract me to watch your show.

Lots of info here my little cheez-its.  I was kind of all over the map with my thoughts this week.  Let me try to rein it in.  Whether it’s a car accident, an argument your watching happen in public, or a TV show about people that are famous for no reason….unless you have a vested interest, unless you are going to do something about whatever you happen to be watching…..DISCONNECT and plug into something worth while…..like…maybe…another human.

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