Angry? Mad as hell and you can't take it anymore? Get something off your chest and it could be published online and/or in print. Bitches are anonymous and may be edited for length, grammar, spelling and our lenient standards of propriety.
Monday, December 18, 2017
WE really should be thanking YOU. You know us (users of the scenic fifth floor reading room at the public library) and our repressed sexual proclivities (foot fetishes) even better than we know ourselves. You know that we are all just sitting there pretending to read, but deep down we are DYING to see your bare-ass feet up on the coffee table. We await the moment you regularly come in, take off your shoes and socks, and unleash your sweaty man-hooves up on and all over the communal furniture, with bonus titillation for those of us sexually aroused by foot fungus and general dude-foot gnarliness. Everyone who uses that reading room loves it, and what may seem like collective retching or an oppressive wave of utter disgust is actually all of us orgasming in unison. I’ve arranged for you to get the key to the city for your dedicated public service. —Repressed Foot Fetishist
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