It’s International Women’s Day!
Break out the dick shaped cake, the tampon string sparklers, and throw an X in womxn so that you can celebrate yourselves for a whole 24 hours! Which ultimately means that tomorrow….your asses will be right back in the motherfuckin’ kitchen where you belong. Cause you know what tomorrow is?
It’s International Men’s Day!
You’re probably saying, “no it’s not.”
Well, let me clear up any confusion you may have.
Every day is International Men’s Day, you vapid, second rate, giant version of a woman.
So, like I said. Tomorrow, you and the rest of woMAN kind can find themselves right back where they fuckin’ started…in the motherfuckin’ kitchen.
“But, Steve. We’re more than that! Women’s rights are human rights! Take us seriously!”
But what’s to take seriously? The fact that no matter how many freedoms you’re given, you still manage to bitch and moan about every single fuckin’ thing? Voting rights weren’t enough; you still have to claim that you’re oppressed.
“But we don’t get paid the same amount as men! Equal pay!”
Jesus, it never ends. Where’s the proof of that? You and I make the same amount of money, LT. So silence your menstrual minions, and get your crew together to discuss a new angle of oppression that you can hold us evil men accountable for. And even if we do give you the same amount of respect, credit and pay…you women will still find a way to regress. I mean, look at yourself LT. You’re the fuckin’ mom of HOW. A classic stereotypical position when you’re the only girl in the room. The worst part of it all is that you probably gave yourself the mom-moniker and not only is that the lamest thing I’ve ever fucking hear, it also diminishes what little legacy you have left. And I can’t really seem to understand why – after the Dad-Solider is realized – that you would try to hop on the parent train anyway. I know my mustache is sexy as fuck; but try to utilize a little self-control LT. It’s like you’re obsessed with becoming the Roseanne to my Dan, or the Kitty to my Red.
NO, I WILL NOT MAKEOUT WITH YOU!
Go on with the chlorophyll.
Alright, believe me when I say that this Mom vs. Dad shit has run its course. I’m over it already, and this is the first mention I’ve made of it. I don’t know who in the world decided that you were the be all end all when it came to Mom’s in wrestling. Do you even have children? Do you know what it’s like to look your kid in the eyes after they just watched you get beat from bell to ring post, all the while wearing a mask of dark red – I refuse to use the word crimson, cause fuck all of you that do – blood? I’ll bet you have no idea what that shit feels like, so for fuck’s sake LT….drop the Mom gimmick already. It’s truly run its course, especially when the number-one Dad is in the building. I know that you’re trying to be the overbearing soccer mom that you never could be to these young cats like Zeb Martin and Johnny “FUCKIN’ BRO!” Dorn, but let it fuckin’ go LT. You’re just the fantasy that these young pricks are looking for. In a world full or wrestling nerds, you’re the spank material they need to get through the day. So while you feel like this nurturing mother figure, they’re marking the fuck out while trying to look up your skirt when you enter the ring through the middle rope. And don’t act like any of that shit is a mistake, LT. You’re the same as any other cougar posted up in the corner of the club with her strawberry daiquiri, but instead of a drink you’ve got a wrestling ring.
The queen schtick, however, is quite impressive. It lasted what? All ninety-fucking years of your wrestling career? Your bio says your forty-one, but that shit can’t be accurate. Your birth certificate was carved into fucking stone and delivered to Moses with the Ten Commandments. I’m not trying to be mean, LT…but you’re definitely past your child bearing years, and the crows feet on your eyes definitely don’t sell the fact that you’re under sixty years old these days. You’ve been wrestling longer than that old bitch in England has had the crown. Don’t kid yourself, Lindz…your first paycheck was delivered by Wells Fargo with a horse and carriage. Eric Dane looks at you and feels young. You’re so old, your uterus has a Bachelors in social justice and a Masters in women’s studies. You’re so fucking old, you’ve gone through menopause twice. Of all the things they don’t rename with a ‘wo’ prefix, it’s fuckin’ menopause. Cause that issue is probably man’s fault too…am I right?
This is one fight I’m really lookin’ forward to. It’s just too bad it has to happen in the ring instead of the cage. I’d love to grate your face into the bare-steel of a caged octagon, but that’s just not how the cards were dealt. Instead, I get to destroy you at the hands of your own fuckin fans. The bullshit that I’ve had to put up with from you for the last six or so weeks is all going to come to a head..take it easy, I know what you’re thinking you fuckin’ goblin. It’s all going to come to a head at March to Glory, and finally I will get to stand over over and hold my arms high in the air while you bleed to fuckin’ death at the hands of a weapon from one of your dickless fans.
You’re a giant fuckin’ goblin of a woman, we get it. You’re six-foot-fuckin-seven, two-hundo; you’re a huge bitch. You’re like Scottywood with tits. But being a huge woman and a Hardcore Con-Artist doesn’t put a check in the win column. It never will, because face it…not only am I a man, LT. I’m the fuckin’ Alpha in this bitch. So, get with it and realize the that It’s fuckin’ science, Lindz. sCIeNCe IZ REaL! Men are stronger than women, it doesn’t matter how you shake it. This is why women aren’t champions anymore, just ask Dawn McGill. That cunt got what she had coming to her, and so will you. The only time you’ve had championship DNA inside of you is when Mike Best…you know what, that’s too fuckin’ easy. But I urge you to turn to the science and back out of this upcoming bloodbath now, before it’s too late and I’m forced to massacre you in front of the entire world.
Happy International Women’s Day!