Department of Transportation

I LOVE getting letters. 


It's almost sickening how much I love getting cards/letters in the mail.  


I always check my mail with a spring in my step because maybe, just maybe I will get lucky and get something. This usually ends with me pulling a shit load of junk mail not even addressed to me but somehow got left in my box and a very sad/disappointed me. I NEVER get letters/cards in the mail, unless it is a bill. Those don't count.    


Whatever. 


I got a letter the other day from the department of transportation. 


Yeah, I know. Department of Transportation. 
What the...?  


So I read the letter. Addressed to me. Yeah me.
Must have been important if ADOT was sending me a letter. Right? RIGHT!
I got a little excited because it wasn't  junk mail, ...err.."technically." 


The letter stated that "someone" had called the litter line and reported me because of debris I threw out of my vehicle. 


For which I call BULLSHIT. 
They were kind enough to also send me a plastic bag "to keep in your car for trash." 


Why thank you fuckholes. That was very kind of you. 


Sure, I have thrown out a few stray hairs that happen to shed from my head out the window. 
Surely you can't call that debris. 


What the fuck anonymous caller? 


FUCK YOU. 


I DO NOT litter. No seriously. 
I don't litter.
I think it is gross. 


Walking or driving through a parking lot or any other place and seeing trash, such as a dirty diaper is sickening. Who does that anyway? What the hell is wrong with you people? It's a FUCKING DIRTY DIAPER! Find a trash can for fuck sake! 

Only thing that comes out of my car while driving is my hair and most likely Jen's projectile vomit. 
Because that bitch has gone light weight on my ass. 
That isn't a big deal. Unless she gets some on the side of my car. 
But other than that it isn't a problem.
Only because it becomes a long trail of processed food and that becomes food for birds, so *technically* we are feeding animals. 


Wait. 
Do birds eat throw-up?
Pigeons must. Those dimwits eat anything. 


See..win/win situation. 


I would never litter.
Especially on the freeway. 
Because you remember when that mattress almost killed me and my family?
I am sure someone threw that out their window? 
I am almost positive they were trying to kill us. 


What? What do you mean a queen size mattress can't fit through a window? 
Don't mock me. Sure it can. 


I doubt anyone called ADOT about that whole situation. 
Bastards.

The Wizz

~Last Week~


As Friday afternoon came winding down to the last minutes of work I frantically realized one crucial thing: I didn't have any plans. 


I messaged mi amiga to get some info on where the party was. 
Since I am without "The Facebooks." 


Then the brilliant idea hit me: "Tha strip club" 
 It's been a long time since I have seen jiggly ta-ta's and hung out with my friends. 
The perverted ones anyway.


To bad for me no one wanted to go. 
I had my dollars folded neatly and was ready to roll. 


I went home and ate some taquitos instead.


~ 5 Hours Later~


Mi Amiga was ready to go. But not to a strip club, unfortunately for me. 
We headed out to Scottsdale armed to the teeth with our booze faces on.  


We got to our destination and sat to chat about the usual things us men ladies talk about. 
20 minutes into our people watching a man beast came and sat at our table. Uninvited. 


Dick. 


After criticizing my posture (which is awesome by the way) and smile, we decided silently that we would let this douche sack buy us drinks. 


That's what insults costs now-a-days. 


This did NOT mean that we were going home with him. Which unfortunately for him is what he thought was going to happen.


Guys are such idiots. 


He tried his hardest to get us to his place by INSISTING that we were wasted and couldn't drive. 


SHUT.THE.FUCK.UP! 
Man beast.


We didn't even need for you to buy us drinks. 
I had my stripper money handy. Remember. 


We weren't even close to being drunk. Sure we had enough to make the night a memorable one. But we were NOT drunk. I could still make out the pores on his face. That is not drunk. 


While dancing at 1:40ish in the morning, we decided to make a run for it and get the hell out of dodge. So we took off as fast as my high heels and her boots could take us. 


Unfortunately I had V.I.P parking. 
You know, when THAT car gets the parking that everyone wants, up front, closest parking spot ever. 


That is where I parked. 
Right in front of our ditched men beasts. 


Sure they were pissed. But honestly who cares it was only 6 drinks, not like they bought us a car. 


We left. Left the men beast in the dust. 


I didn't drive, I just sat in the passenger seat giggling like a high school girl who got her first orgasm. 


The closer we got to my house my designated driver kept saying "I have to peeeee". 


Same friend that is used to peeing behind buildings at 3 in the morning with me. 
The one that makes it a game of "Who has the biggest piss puddle?"
The same bitch who can air dry her mound and call it a night.  
The same friend that can and will urinated where ever she pleases, literally. 


I just kept hearing "I have to piss" over and over again.  
I got it. She had to pee. 


We pulled up to my house and I had to unlock her car from my carport area. 
While she yelled at me to "Hurry the fuck up, I need to GO!"


I gave her my house keys and told her to open the door and use the bathroom. 
Because hello! That is where the toilet is located. In the bathroom. 


I couldn't resist laughing. She really had to go. 


She ran to my door and was frantically trying to unlock my gate. 
To no avail. 
I heard her shouting and grunting, like a half dead camel.  
Who cares if it was 2:30 in the morning.  


I forgot to tell her she had to jiggle it a few times to get my gate to un-stick. Oops. 


Finally after a few seconds, I calmly walked over to her, grabbed the keys and started unlocking the bolts.
Meanwhile she started to get into a squatting position trying her damn hardest to control her bladder. 


Next words of hers were: "OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO PEE RIGHT NOW!!!!" 
I was laughing so hard trying to open the door that I couldn't even get it opened. 
I doubled over because my abs couldn't take the assaulting laughter.


FINALLY, the threshold was opened. Voilà. 


Seeing my friend glued to her position on the floor, mere inches from my front door, laughing so hard. I couldn't help but to laugh and laugh hard and loud. Sorry neighbors I am not usually this much of an asshole. 

Designated Driver: "OH.MAGAWD.IM.PEEEEING" 

Right in front of my entrance way. 

Bitch tinkled on my porch.

I think I am going to start calling her "The Wizz" 


*Sigh


On a positive note:
At least she didn't shit herself. 

Mexican'd

When I was 11 or 12, wait...I could have been 13 now that I think about it. For the sake of my shitty memory let's stick with 12.
Okay, from what I remember when I was 12 my family started this nickname for me, I was called "white girl" or "Bob Light."


My sisters, cousins all called me this. Still do actually. Don't get me wrong we all had nicknames that were given to us by each other. My sister was a combination of Connie Chung and India Maria. You know this lady:



Source: esmas.com


If you are Mexican you know about this woman. She was the comedian of my childhood. 
On the other hand that is not why we called my sister India Maria. It was all about appearances when that name was bestowed upon my olive complected sister.
My other cousin was "Theen" and/or Mr. Bean because of her ability to literally eat a pot of beans and a whole block of cheddar cheese without shitting herself. Farts on the other hand were a different story. Another cousin was dirty diaper, for reasons obvious, I feel like I have told that story before. See that is just what we did as kids, make up stupid names for each other and dress my boy cousin in my oldest sisters bathing suits. 


Oh childhood. You sure were a hell of a time. 


While my Mexican family was listening to oldies and Mexican rappers I was sneaking around trying to listen to The Cranberries, Third Eye Blind, Savage Garden and Fuel hoping that no one noticed me. I cornered myself with my walkman, possibly crying to Jon B's "They don't know." Look, I was emotional like that OKAY! Stop pointing your fingers!


I have always been light complected. Really white as they say in my family, this was NOT the reason for them calling me white girl. Even though we live/lived in Arizona. I think that what is what "Bob Light" was for. One can only assume.  


Honestly it bothered me so I tried to change it but I couldn't. 
Fuck that, fuck them. Cholo's.
The chola look didn't fit me anyway, that brown lipliner was hideous on my light skin.   


I grew up with these Mexican people, gangstas if you will, yet my voice and tone sounded like someone who has never encountered another person of color. Polar opposite of my Mexican family, even their word choices. I was the lone white ranger. I think I still am. 


Now that I am older not only do people think that I am Asian, but that I do not sound Mexican. 


I was talking on the phone the other night and my fr-enemy told me "SOOOO.... LIKE.OHHHH.MY.GOD" in his best valley girl voice, then said that is what I sounded like. 


:( 


I can't help it asshole.


What the fuck. 
So what I make a shitty Mexican.


Don't be rude about it. 


Not that you care, Mister-I-don't-know-big-words. 
Just to make him feel stupid I said something about someone being a introvert. 
Yeah that shut him the fuck up. 
Real quick. 


I could see the big question mark floating out of his tiny brain trying to figure out what that word meant. Introvert, not a very big word, yet he thought it meant that someones penis was inverted. 
Idiot. 


Anytoodles.
I make a terrible Mexican. 
My Spanish speaking abilities aren't the best either so that helps me almost none. 
All though I do understand Spanish. So there! In your face Spanglish. 
Also, I am trying to teach my kids the little Spanish that I can speak. 


They are getting on to it, only they can't roll their R's. Nope. Trying to say tortilla without rolling that r, sounds like tore-till-lya. 


"WHAT?! Oh hell nah. Listen torrrrrrrr-ti-ya. Ok let's try it again"


"Tore-till-lya" Says the boy. 


Fuck. My family would LOVE to see my little white speaking children, just to tease them. 


I realized my kids are horrible Mexicans while we were making stuffed animals.
While at a bear stuffing place my kids had choices to pick names for the animals they had just stuffed. 


My son picked "Patrick" and my daughter picked "Roosevelt." 


What kind of Mexicans are you? Children of my eggs! Jesus.  


My family would get a kick out of that. Why not Pedro, Gustavo, Alejandro or Consuela? Something a little more my families flava. 


Thanks offspring, I am glad that you make terrible Mexicans too. I don't feel so alone now. 


I can't pepper myself with "the Mexican", no matter how much I try. Novela's don't help any either. All though you know they always have the most gorgeous/sexy women on there. Where do they find these perfect man muscles? And the sex scenes. Wowie. 
*Sigh*
Ok enough. 

Look at my first name for fucks sake! Ugh, yeah like that screams Mexican as much as Jenny does. 
I always end up being too light skinned and my talk has made up it's mind to stay as is. No returns. 


"A veces me gustaría poder cambiar un poco" but since I can't "white girl" is here to stay. 


Don't give me shit about it either. 

And this is Why I do Not Have Friends

This is how you lose friends. Or those people that you constantly force to speak to you who may not even call you their friend. OR this could be the real reason that I don't have those things, those "friends". I think they can't handle the slop that rolls around on my tongue before it comes flying out of my mouth without filtering out in my brain.

Conversation between myself and a mutual creature that kind of resembles me, but has balls. And maybe a penis too.


Me:  just bored that is all

Glitter Boots : you party animal.

Me: RAWR! With no party people in sight

Glitter Boots : what you got to drink at your place for when i show up.

Me: All these old farts too lazy to leave the couch to change their underwear to have a fucking DRINK!
Got some Lambrusco. a big bottle. Knowing me it wont last long

Glitter Boots: nice. can i take chicks over there to get drunk and bang them?

Me: Not on my bed. On the hard wood floors. Sure. Have a go at it.

Glitter Boots : lol. should i take some blankets and a pillow to keep in your closet?

Me: Yes. by all means.

Glitter Boots : alright. you can watch then.

Me: You should probably keep a few "extra" spare bottles of the good ole shit too. Whatever your poison

Glitter Boots : yeah right. you'll drink them!

Me: no* not me!

Glitter Boots : mhmm. i'm actually excited. i can bang again!

Me: Why? Your boner got fixed?
Did you fix your broken boner?

Glitter Boots : my boner always works. Just need to find someone to use it.

Me: your burrito got smashed? haha

Glitter Boots : Need to find that one to put those lips on my burrito.

Me: Burrito Smasher!!!

Glitter Boots: who's burrito have you been smashing lately?

Me: Mr. Bond

Glitter Boots : who's Mr. Bond?

Me: Mr Bond is a guy.

Glitter Boots: .........

Me: No I am not lying, he is REAL! He is fine. He is a real person Glitter shits.

Glitter Boots : i haven't had a chance to fuck anybody.

Me: Well get your little ass out there!
Do we need to go hunting?

Glitter Boots : yes we do.

Me: OHH NOW IM ALL EXCITED AHHHHHHHHHHH. Hunters we shall be.

Glitter Boots : haha.
got anybody in mind that wants to get drunk with me and bang?

Me: no.

Glitter Boots: u suck.

Me: Yes, very good too I hear

Glitter Boots : says who? "Mr Bond?" (I could actually hear him making the air quotes around "Mr. Bond's name)

Me: yes. Apparently my book reading skills got me where I am at. Expert level bitches!!!

Glitter Boots : i'd want you to do me but your big ass lips would make my super small penis even smaller.

Me: true. my big lips can't be helped

Glitter Boots : maybe Mr. Bond can go down on me?

Me: no. he is not the gay

Glitter Boots : I thought all your ex's turned gay?

Me: Most of them did, not all.

Glitter Boots : haha. i'm fucking with you..

Me: no you are NOT, You hurt what little feelings were left in me. The ones that the gays didn't strip me of.

Glitter Boots : shut up. you're tough. you can handle it.

Me: I told you THE GAYS FUCKING TOOK IT ALL!

Glitter Boots : i'll let you go down on me to make it up to you.

Me: Will you let me put my pinkie in your bum?



I was bored. Me and my burrito smasher. My personality sometimes goes haywire with the heat. Its over 100 degrees outside. My good senses must have melted when I went to lunch and packed on those 50,000 pounds of fat. Put two and two together, what do you get? My haywired brain, possibly turned to mush because of the 5 hour drive with my demons children, but mostly because it is hot as the devils tits out.



Wait...the devil has tits now?



What the fuck was in that water I drank at lunch?



I need to get out more. Who is up for some drinks?

That One Night

Going out looking like a orange haired freak turned out just as I thought it would. 

Nothing spectacular happened. 

Other than Jen throwing up all over my seat. 

This happened even though we shared the same amount of alcohol. Three/four shots and who knows how many beers.

All though I forgot about that bottle of wine I had before she came over. So technically I was supposed to be the one totally annihilated instead of her. But I supposed it worked out how it did.

She had her choosing of two different men, both of whom were friends. She asked which one, I choose the left for her because he was cuter. She ended up with righty. Lefty got mad and walked away. 

I got none. 

Yeah, none. Don't be surprised, I had orange hair for fucks sake. 

Although I did have a very interesting proposition.

As I sat at the bar bout to light up a cigarette, I look over for an ashtray. I spotted one right next to me in front of this massive muscley man. I reached over and snatch it. Muscle man looked at me and said "Hey you trying to look at my phone?" as he held his old ass hand-held cell close to his body. 

"No, I was not" I simply replied

"Wait,...what are you texting?" I look over at his phone, which he pulled out trying to type those little baby buttons with his gigantic fingers. 

All I see on the screen is "Just ran into an old swinger buddy"

Key word popped out at me "SWINGER" like big glittery fireworks. 

"Really, swinger.....where?" I asked, now intrigued

He points to this top heavy woman who sits next to him and introduces herself to me.

In my alcohol induced mind frame I know better so I turn to Jen to see what is going on with her. 

After some time, 2 more shots down, I turn and speak to this swinger lady. We talk about the lack of attractive men. We even make a go around to see if there was any potential. Nil. 

She ends up on the dance floor with Jen as I sit there drinking beer after beer. 

By the end of the night things were looking pretty blurry. Last call was yelled. 

Swinger whore and her muscley man friend ask me if I would like to join them. 

"Excuse me?, Come again?" I say looking mildly amused

"You want to come home with us?" 

Invitation sat heavy in the air. 

Before I could snort out a huge laugh, I waved it off.

"Nah, gots to take my friend home" 

As they stood around calculating different ways to get Jen home I took the time to thank them for the nice gesture (it was the polite thing to do at the time) and grabbed Jen to make a quick get-away. 

They were on the prowl the whole time and I was too drunk to notice or care. 

I will never forget the night I was invited to be in a swinger sandwich. 

You Remember When That Bitch Stole My Life...NO?

You are probably wondering what the fuck I am talking about. 

I often wonder the same. 

You see, I am a creature of habit. 

Okay, it's boring and predictable. But that's me!

That has been who I have been for the last 20 some thing or other odd years. 

I eat at the usual spots, same foods, same shit day in and day out. 

When I do switch it up something like, say a restaurant, I will still eat what I usually eat otherwise.  

I am comfortable with that. 

When nothing on the menu is recognizable...It irks me to the ump-th degree. 

When things change, I get itchy. 

I am bugging the fuck out about ...............

.....

...

.............

......

NOW

I changed something. 

Like a rift in time, I got sucked into spontaneous moment and said "Just do it", like Nike, but without the shoes. Those were at home. 

I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. 

Remember:

ME + CREATURE OF HABIT = COMFORT

ME + NON-HABITS = UNCOMFORTABLE SHIT 

I don't like change. 

But hell I am out-of-control at the moment, so I did it. 

Yeah it. 

Spontaneous me, rarely sees the light of day. I don't like that bitch. She flares up every so often. 

I always kick myself in the cooter when I think about it afterwards. When I let that whore take over. 

Today, I am kicking, punching, and possibly slapping the cooter because of my haste decision. 

Should I get to the point already? 

Fine. 

Look: 

That's me.

 

Anything new you ask. 

Yeah, my fucking hair. 

Its... err.... well....not me. 

You're probably thinking "oh looks nice." 

It's not done yet. We need to take her into the deeper reds. She is not red. 

Last night I took one look at myself and thought, fuck...top of my head is all ... well...ginger.

WHAAAAATTT? *You say. 

Remember that was last night. Mmmm Hmmm. Last. Night. 

The darkness conceals. Very impressive darkness. You almost had me, you sneaky bastard. 

AND THEN! This morning I drag my ass out of bed and hit the restroom. Eyes closed. Sit down.

Do my business. Wipe.  Stand up. Open my eyes. BAMMMMM! Got bitch slapped by my reflection. 

"Who the fuck is that?!" (Mouth gaped open, wide) Looking at myself in the mirror

"Oh shit. Hasty decision" (Tears almost welling up) 

"SHIT. SHIT. SHIT" (Anger building) 

FUCK!!

Ok. Ok. It's like a bad dream. I'll wake up. Surely. 

That little whore, spontaneous...she got out again. 

Well people. It seems to be about the longest nightmare of my life. Because I still have not woken up from this hellish slumber.

I got dressed with a shower cap this morning. If I couldn't see it, it wasn't real. 

Makes sense to me. 

It worked. 

Until I had to brush it. 

That strangers hair. 

On my head. 

My house was dark as I readied myself for work. 

I got nervous as I stepped outside. Into the sunlight. NATURAL LIGHT! NOOOOO!

No artificial junk either. No darkness to conceal. I felt like a vampire. Hissing and shit. Looking around in all directions. 

Because change does that to me. Makes me all paranoid. 

Got into my car. Took a deep breath. Opened my mirror overhead.

And to my horror. I was more ginger than ever!

SEE!!!!

That. Is. Ginger.

Don't believe me! 

Google it! 

IMAGES DON'T LIE!!

Unless they are photoshopped. Which mine isn't. Obviously. Since I don't even know how to rotate my picture. 

I have absolutely nothing against orange heads. It's just that, I am not suited to wear this color. It clashes with my dark eyebrows. 

I have always dyed my hair black or urple. Never have I gone off the deep end. 

What happened to me?

I am was creature of mother-fucking habit!!!! 

My life was stolen. I NEED my habits back please! 

I swear I have never made fun of people with naturally orange hair. Promise. Except for Louis C.K., but that asshole is hilarious and I am sure he appreciated it. 

 

Please make this go away. 

Please? 

Ass Kicking for the Masses

Some like to think that they are bad ass.


People like....me. 
Not always just sometimes. 
Ok rarely. 
OK I AM NOT A BAD ASS!!! GOD! 


Jen is a bad ass. 
So is her sister.


Me...not so much. 


You see I happily went to Jen's house to "exercise" my fat ass. 
Maybe I shouldn't say fat. I mean I have lost about 10 pounds the last few months thanks to the all day fun of work and school. 
Jen has these magical videos that she has been working out to and I wanted too bond with my newly adopted family. 


It has been a long, long, long time since I have stepped into a gym. Let me repeat, it's been a long-motherfucking-time since I have lifted weights, sit-ups or did anything resembling working out. 


I thought to myself, what the hell, I am out of school I have some free time to get my soft body into that slim-tight-ab-firm-ass. Why the fuck not. 


I got to Jen's house and let the exercise begin.


By the 4th warm up, I was already sweating profusely and my legs were on fire. 


Breathing heavily I asked if we were almost done...because I was dying. 
We were only into the first 10 minutes of the 57 minute workout.


fuck.


By minute 30 I literally was about to pass out. Jen kept telling me to "breathe, bitch, breathe!"


"Are you going to throw up?" Jen asks as I threw myself on the floor unable to move


"No, I just can't do any push ups!" Is all I said unable to make more words come out of my dry mouth


I didn't almost throw up thank the strong stomach I have. I was trying to be a trooper because come on. I could do anything. Unless it includes push-ups then I am fucking done, screwed. 


Jen finished the 57 minutes, red faced and covered in sweat. Bitch was still pumped. 


I finished about 40 minutes, red faced and dying. 


I might have died somewhere in between the push-ups and the banana/superman rolling thing. 


Did I mention this magical video was a P90X video? 


No? 


Well it was. 
That shit is no joke. 
It is not for beginners like myself. 
It is hardcore working out. 


All though I am sure I looked pretty hot doing squats and shit. 


I got my ass handed to me by a dvd. A dvd! 
This is reason # 13 why I am not a bad ass. 


Next 2 days I couldn't believe how much my body hurt. I mean I fucking HURT. Everywhere. 


It was so bad in fact that when I tried getting into my car, my legs gave out and I fell into my seat. This happened a few times. 


P90X...I will see you again and conquer that shit! Believe you me! 


If you would like a swift ass kicking go ahead, I fucking dare you to do P90X for the duration of the program. 

Intimidation

There seems to be a recurring theme when Jen and I go out. 
I call it the deodorant of our lives, also known as "attracting the creeps." 




It starts out with a decrepit 70 year-old coming up to us to tell us that 
A) we are beautiful and 
B) he is old enough to be our grampy BUT he is filthy rich AND owns a fabric store. 
Everyone loves fabric! All kids of fabric. Did he mention he is super rich? Because if you didn't get that by the look of his average clothes and shoes that look like they have traveled more miles than I have driven, don't worry I am sure he will reiterate again, you know of the richness. Because he is and he would love to make us pillows with his fabric from his fabric store. Only thing is, we are going to have to pay for the filling ourselves. We can go cotton filing but if we are fancy enough let's say fuck it and go with the goose-down. 


Oh I almost forgot, he also owns golf bag that cost him $25,000 (that fucking rich ya'll), but we still need to pay for the pillow filling ourselves. So I guess its cotton filling for us broke bitches.


What do we say to this? 
Nothing we simply nodded our heads and agreed with old timer. 


Shit, I can't even make this up it was that strange.

Okay, that was one night, but still. Who does that? 
Creepy, rich, old wrinkled balled men do. 


We wondered about the men that refuse to talk to us when we are out and about or even ones that we force to talk to us. What?! Yes, force...from time to time. 
No matter. 
We are cute. 
Right?...


RIGHT!!!


RIGHT!!!


motherfucker. 


*sigh

For some weird reason guys do not talk to us. We are friendly. Probably too friendly to some. 
The guys that rarely come up to us are too much crazy for either one of us to handle. It always ends in heartbreak, 3 minutes later. 
While we drink away the night Jen and I talk, no good looking approaching men in sight. This always happens. ALWAYS. 


Not like we are looking, but still. Boost the ego once in a while for ol' times sake. 


Several times when we have asked semi-attractive or hot men why they don't talk to us they say the same line every time "You guys are intimidating." 


Is there a anti Rox and Jen network that we don't know about? Website perhaps? I will have to research this. 


It's like a bad punch-line waiting to happen. A bad joke being told with the same fucking answer every time.


"You guys are intimidating" (say it with a man voice it sounds better) 


What?!! 
Really? 


I usually look around, because I do not understand that little comment. At all. Nope. Not even a little bit. 


I have heard this comment A LOT the last several months. That is a wee bit too much if you ask me. 


"What the fuck you mean we are intimidating?" 


Is that some asshole excuse or what? 
Yes, yes it is, I say.


Look, you can't kill two birds with one stone with that stupid statement. Intimidating to you to try to make us seem high and mighty while you get away with not talking to women you don't want to talk to. (Lots of [to's, tos' toes ??..I'm not a good at the English] hope you can keep up)


I call BULLSHIT. 
To your faces. You assholes. 


Read:

Intimidation (according to Dictionary.com) 


–verb (used with object), -dat·ed, -dat·ing.

1.

to make timid; fill with fear.

2.

to overawe or cow, as through the force of personality or bysuperior display of wealth, talent, etc.

3.

to force into or deter from some action by inducing fear: tointimidate a voter into staying away from the polls.

Number 1. - I fill no one with fear. I'm only 5'4 and not big. Jen is 5'3 has great hair and does not fill me with the fear. 


Numero 2. - AHAHAHAHA THAT.IS.HILARIOUS! NEXT!!!! Overawe...AHAHA


That brings us to number 3. - We deter? By inducing fear? Come on men. Really? 


Look at us:

PICTURE HAS BEEN REMOVED 

I'm not sure how to take that anymore. I am starting to think that there is something terribly wrong with us. We just can't see it. 


Intimidation you say? 
FUCK YOU!
FUCK YOU! 
FUCK YOUUUUUUU!!
What is really wrong with us that makes you squirm away? COME ON GIVE IT TO US! We can handle it!!! 


Pussies. 


At graduation I got one reason why "the mens" do not like me like that. 
My guy friend was checking out some ladies and mentioned that he never saw any of these hot chicks on campus. "Well hello! It's called makeup, trust, it works wonders like one would not believe." Is what I said.  
He looked at me and said "Hey, don't get me wrong or anything, you are pretty and all but you are more like a guy." 


Really? 
WOW.
I am a dude. 
To him. 


Was that an insult? 
Probably not, because I am awesome and am like one of the guys.


Let's face it me and Jen are like men, no scratch that. We think/act/talk like men is what I meant to say. 


Please stop using "intimidation" as a bullshit excuse, if you don't want to talk to us just fucking say it and we can move on. Easy, peasy bitches.