This Week in Women: Octomom, Countess Luann, and more
Douglas Charles 
By the time the end of the week finally arrives, I’m usually running out of everything. Toilet paper, clean underwear, patience for broads who ask me for “something pink and fruity!”… But the one thing I’m never in short supply of is bitches. If the world is turning, there’s a woman somewhere doing something stupid.
This week we’ve got a Real (old) House(ex)wife, a bitch whose uterus must resemble Star Jones’ arm skin, a future mother-in-law who may have ensured she’ll never actually make it to mother-in-law status, and a woman whose car got repossessed with her common sense still in the glove box.
Bitch I’ve Had More Than Enough of of the Week: Octomom
Not sure I’ve ever hated a celebrity as much as I hate this ridiculous woman. First she stirs up controversy by using her vagina as a Petri dish and popping out 92 babies, and now she says in an interview with InTouch Magazine that she hates them. Yeah? Well so do I. I’ve been shoveling out my hard-earned cash to buy those kids Huggies for a couple years now thanks to your affinity for public assistance programs. I’m no financial analyst, but I’d say if your bank account is overdrawn by $300 you don’t have enough money for one kid, never mind 14.
I can confidently say that you’re the worst kind of human, since it’s so painfully obvious that everything you’ve ever done is a desperate attempt to gain fame. Your babies “disgust” you and your older kids are “animals?” Pretty ballsy of you to bank on the illiteracy of Child Protective Services. But hey, I’m sure you’ll do real well on that dating reality show you just signed on to. Any dude would be lucky to enjoy romantic evening of dinner, wine, and a custody hearing.
Uncomfortably Awkward Bitch of the Week: Countess Luann
In what seems to be the new “thing to do,” this Real Ho-bag of New York City has recorded a horrible song and released an equally horrible music video. I’m talking physically painful. It, of course, showcases her and her awesome costars going out in awesome limos, drinking awesome shooters and soaking up each others’ awesomeness. Newsflash Count Awkula: you already have a mind-numbing television series on which to showboat the money you got from your divorce. We really don’t need a home video of what you and your geriatric “friends” do at 8 PM on a Saturday night after your Tupperware parties.
Bitch Who Didn’t Think Things Through of the Week: Angelic Williams
This Palo Alto woman went rogue on Tuesday after seeing two repo women drive off with her Toyota Corolla. While my Buick Regal and I respect your hoopty-loyalty, I feel as though hopping behind the wheel of another car and ramming it into yours probably isn’t the best way to show how much you value your possession. I’m honestly just curious to know what your endgame was. Was this just a familiar feminine outburst of misguided and illogical anger? Or were you trying to do enough damage to the thing by launching soda cans at it that it would be deemed worthless and therefore returned to your broke ass? Either way I vote that your sentence include a government-mandated name change. You’re about as angelic as a frat boy with a roofalin.
In-Law Bitch of the Week: Carolyn Bourne
It isn’t news to anyone that mother-in-laws are the effing worst, but this bitch might just top the all-time list. If you haven’t seen it yet, this woman sent her son’s fiancée a preachy-ass email about manners (more specifically her lack thereof) that went viral across the UK. The thing reads like the syllabus of a 1920s finishing school: “You do not remark that you do not have enough food,” “You do not take additional helpings without being invited by your host”… Uh, yes I do. Clearly you’re not on the up-and-up with manners yourself, Carolyn, or else you’d be feeding me more than a celery stick with some bullshit caviar on it.
It doesn’t take a genius to do a little reading between the lines here and deduce that the future daughter-in-law is probably clocking in around 20 stone. From the excessive comments on her eating habits to berating her for having diabetes (sorry?), mama bear is clearly just looking our for baby bear. Because once they’re married it won’t matter if the porridge is too hot or too cold, Fatty McClassless will complain about the portion size and help her unrefined ass to some more.
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