I’ll never forget that fateful day in art class, senior year of high school. This (pardon me if I seem rash in this titling) bitch named Ashlee was in my class. She was cool in the sense of…not cool at all, with a god awful short haircut and horrible highlights and delusions that her Nike sneakers with Mudd flares threw her into some high fashion club.

She was also dating a guy–the quarterback (of course)–who had secretly had a crush on me (a fact I didn’t find out until college).

The quarterback and my sporadic and subtle flirting, combined with the fact that she hated me for not kissing her ass, lead to Ashlee on a mission to make me cry. And one day; it almost worked.

There was a spider in our classroom. Ashlee flipped out in the typical “popular” girl fashion (”oh my gawd, oh my gawd! Do something!“), and I told her to chill and went to pick it up to put it out the window. I squated down to let the spider walk onto a piece of paper and suddenly, there was her ugly grass stained Nike sneaker…smashing it on my hands. I wanted to cry but instead I stood up and said,

“God, you’re such a bitch.” Read More »