The sign of a mature Bitch is the ability to own her bitchiness without talking like one. In order to attain this state of inner-bitchdom, one needs to work on her Bitch Edit Function. Like all art forms, a Bitch-in-training must practice with the conversations and thoughts she has in her head. (Have I used the word "bitch" enough?...didn't think so, either...).

"I just think your behavior reeks of asshole."

Remove words after "reeked.

"I just think you should save your bullshit for a low self-esteem (insert stereotyped group...sorority, etc. ) girl."

Remove everything in parentheses, possibly remove the word "bullshit." (hmmm, leave "bullshit" in).

"I'm just not into the whole free love thing."

This passes the bitch clearance test. However, substitute "free love" with "booty call."

"I'm a more 'take me out to dinner' kind of booty call."

Save that line for after he runs into you with date.

"You should really see a doctor to see if you can do something about your spine."

Too sarcastic.

"Have you heard of cash for clunkers?"

Too jacked up.

"Can I help you?"

Just for today, I can practice my Bitch Edit Function.

I want to wear this shirt every day.

Just for today, I have Bitch Power.

My friend/neighbor and I like to walk her dog on the beach after 10:00 pm. Except for the stray drunk person puking it's kind of peaceful and starry, and helps me forget that I live in a city with eight million cars and people who think eating a vegan diet is more important than making eye contact. Her dog likes to find stray balls and other things to put in her mouth. Last night she was running around with what looked like a leaf in her mouth.

"Awww, how cute, she likes her leaf," I said.

Twenty minutes later we realized that it was a dead bird.

"I swore it was a leaf..."

It's hard to see reality clearly. Who wants to?

My future step-mother is four years younger than myself. And I'll stop right here....I try to inappropriately over-share only about myself in this blog. (And, I have to say, I do a damn good job). But a comedienne friend, Jackie Kashian has a joke about how she's officially to old for her father to molest. And it would be funnier if it were only about her. It's sort of like the dead bird. You really hope it's a leaf.

But it's not.

Just for today, I am trying to see clearly.