If you’re not KOBE, you can sit this one out.

HELLLOOOO/salaaaam/bonjOUR to our lovely joooons,

I’m in a particularly good mood as you can see today. It’s rare, usually there’s something that sets me off – gets my ‘bitch mode activated‘. Anyway, there’s a new CONTACT US page, if you’re too lazy/scared/annoyedthatweevenask to email (sexandfessenjoon@gmail.com)! so gogogo and leave us some feedback. Farrah and I are all ears!

just for fun, my french boy crush: Adrien Gallo.

Now I have a concern for my own kind– the middle eastern woman. Since when were we such snooty bitches? and since when was THAT mistaken for confidence? EXCUSE ME— cocky is not confident, cocky is a projection of all your INSECURITIES & DADDY ISSUES.

Cocky doesn’t translate into ‘I’m the hottest bitch in the room’, ‘I’m a lionness here me roar’…Cocky translates over to : “I woke up this morning delusional, thinking I was Beyonce”

Now I know I said its coool to speak your mind, and I encouraged it (see here). & that’s not what I’m talking about– I’m writing about those girls that walk around the streets, the clubs, the malls as if they’ve just been dropped from the nose of an elephant (az damagh-e-feel – farsi proverb of the day). Girls with noses in the air, clutching their handbags, marching in their stilettos, and doling out DIRTY LOOKS. — now tell me that ain’t INSECURR?

As guys say, girls that think their sh!t don’t stink.

toddlers and tiaras. #smh

I have bad news, it does. & you thinking you’re better than other people only shows how inferior you really must feel.

I witnessed the following the other day:

As I stood in line for take-out, there were a couple Irooni girls a few people in front of me (just enough distance for saaghi the anthropologist – or creeper- to observe them). They were laughing, talking, gossiping whatever- until a guy sitting nearby decided to chat them up. It was unclear whether he was hitting on them or just killing time by being a social person.

a) I wanted to give him a MASS AMOUNT of credit for approaching girls while theyre in ‘wolf packs’ (that ain’t easy we know)

b) He was respectful, I know girls complain about all those sleazy creepers but he was not one.

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Poor guy didn’t realize what he got himself into. The girls ripped him apart like wolves, to the point that I just felt bad. Even after he had stopped talking to them, they were still laughing, mocking, and just being plain disrespectful. Sure, you can call it mean girls– but it was more than that, these girls thought they had a right to just brush this guy off in any way they so chose.

I was so angry, I wanted to- all at the same time- comfort the poor dude, bitchslap the girls, take them off their stilettos & bring them back down to earth. 

Then I was relieved by this thought:

LIFE will do that.

Somewhere, between losing your virginity, falling in love, moving out, and getting a job- you will learn that there is nothing that makes you better than anyone else. No amount of money, looks, health, or family.

There are no ‘leagues’, ‘cliques’, and ‘ranks’ in the greater scheme of things. There’s only the reality of how you’ve treated the people around you.Like when you say ‘ugh he’s so out of my league’ or ‘I’m an 8, he’s a 4′– you only make yourself look stupid. When you look down on people is when you’re basically asking for life to humble you and smack the air of superiority out of your effing soul.

this is not real life.

As Iranians, or even Middle Easterners, we tend to inherit large egos and even bigger amounts of PRIDE– and I think that can be harnessed for good– towards your motivations, goals, aspirations, etc.  But when you keep it at a superficial level, you’re just going to stand still and look like a fool.

Now if I’ve gotten too philosophical and deep on you joonies, I apologize, let’s lighten this up by showing you how Life humbled a young Saaghi. I’ve realized my existence has been filled with way too many embarassing moments, and I haven’t shared enough of them with you. So here we go

My parents, as all persian parents do, signed me up for a few sports when I was young (some starting at five years old): Soccer, Swimming, Basketball, and Tennis. I definitely did not inherit some of the athletic talent my siblings have, and I was no super star but I was pretty good at Soccer (surprise). And this was because I was AGGRESSIVE (surprise again) and I had no problem elbowing, knocking down, kneeing, headbutting, injuring anyone. My soccer coach sent me into the field because I was the human bulldozer. (Wow, I’m making myself sound very attractive to you joonies aren’t I?) & he sent me in, for every game.

When it came to BASKETBALL, it was a very different story. I don’t know what it is about the sport– i am just NOT GOOD. Actually, I suck. I mean, I can play some one-on-one and survive, but a game with teams– my ADD kicks in and I have no idea what side of the court I should be on. Hands in the air at the same time for defense? Yeah, that just means I look like a confused weirdo doing jumping jacks at the half court line.

LECHOKE.

ANYWAY, my parents would come to the games, and I realllyyyy  wanted to show off for them. Especially my dad who was still yelling “HUST-ELE” from the sidelines (click here for the full story). Of course, my coach knew I sucked– my teammates knew I sucked– but I, big egoed bulldozer saaghi, still felt like there had to be someone who sucked more than me. & of course I decided it was the girl who hadn’t shed her baby fat yet. (WHY AM I SUCH A BITCH!?) I insisted Coach put me in the games, insisting I had more KOBE in me than her. Turns out, that wasn’t true– one game, as I awkwardly let the other team consistently score while trampling over me, my coach took me out and said:

“Saaghi,You can sit this one out.”

and then I sat every game out, as baby fat KOBE played, scored, and got some glory. My basketball skills became the running joke of my family (still is).

It may seem like a mild story, but guess what– I ate shit on the court a few times, which made me EAT MY WORDS, and kill my ego. Baby fat Kobe was gonna play and I was gonna STOP FRONTIN’ THAT I WAS KOBE/JORDAN/ALLEN/SHAQ– and SIT IT OUT.

I’ll leave you with this joons, and it’s not jesus’ golden rule (although that’d apply here)>>

True Swagged out bitches know they’re just as flawed as the rest of the world. & they don’t front.SO kick off the pedestal you put yourself on, and take a new look around you.

Sh!t looks different from ground level, huh?

FACEBOOK US

sexandfessenjoon@gmail.com

The Persian Bulldozer,

saaghi  ساقی

Why am I Such a Bitch?

Hello world, Hello 2012.

Our first post in the new year: the year the world will end before Obama can get re-elected. Got any good resolutions? or NYE stories? shareshareshare with us!

sexandfessenjoon@gmail.com

Now without further ado, onto tonight’s topic!

Growing up, I always saw myself as the underdog- I was never the pretty girl (puberty held me back), I wasn’t the smartest (sorry dad) and I was never MVP of any athletic sport I participated in. I pictured myself as such an innocent bystander, because most of the time, I was.

In middle school, I volunteered at my public library and tutored kids with learning disabilities. In high school, I logged more than 250 hours of community service and made honor roll.

Then, later in my college years, I realized, hey, I’m actually not such a nice person. 

Actually, I’m kind of a bitch.

I remember the first time someone called me the b word– in that nice joking way people try to be honest–“omg, hahaha you’re such a bitch!” and I was so offended, It went against everything I believed in for myself.  I’m a nice girl- I thought, “but I haven’t done anything, other than say what’s on my mind.”

Then it all made sense- being a bitch was a good thing. It means I have the balls to say what’s real. What’s true.

Maybe in my 20′s, I’m more vocal than I was in my teenage years but overall, I’ve always had a pretty bad bitch mentality. I’m sorry I see things as they are.

If you don’t own a mirror and walk out of your house, I SEE THAT BECAUSE I HAVE EYES and I AM SORRY ABOUT IT. If you make stupid decisions, I WILL CALL YOU OUT ON IT because I HAVE HALF A BRAIN. And finally, if you call me a bitch, it means you just couldn’t handle THE TRUTH.

Now, I’m not saying HONESTY is always the best policy, but I really believe that as humans, our first instinct is to tell the truth. Our second is to lie. I know most of the time, it is to prevent people’s feelings from getting hurt but have you ever thought you’re doing more harm then good?

Exhibit A.

I know when I wear a dress after ALLL that holiday feasting, I’m not going to look my best. Yet my friends (MY METH remember?) insist I look GREAT- AMAZING- BEAUTIFUL.  And I buy into it, because I want to believe eating a lot of food will not change anything.

See when you LIE to me, friends, it makes it easier for me to stay fat. SO STOP.

Exhibit B.

When your friend asks you if a guy is interested in her, when clearly he’s not– you usually give into your second instinct and lie. Now your friend is the desperate loser, investing her time and emotions, waiting on a call/text/message, and you’re the person who PUT HER THERE.

So stop.

I think I’ve proven my point a little bit- that being a bitch is actually about being nicer to the people you care about. And I’m sure we’ve all heard of the book- WHY MEN LOVE BITCHES- and its true. I can sum it up for you right now so you can save $24.95 and time:

Men like women who prioritize themselves, aren’t afraid of losing them, and don’t put up with their bullshit.

Basically, men like women who PMS 24/7

because that means there’ll always be a chase.

So are you sold yet? Are you gonna start speaking your mind?

Don’t decide just yet.

It’s a thin line between Bitch and BULLY. And you don’t want to cross it. Because I have– and it is not so pleasant on the other side.

People respect bitches, People hate bullies.

My freshman year, I had an AWFUL living situation. I roomed with two other girls, who I had nothing in common with– one was from some farmtown, the other had parents who had matching mullets (I am such a bitch, arent I?)

i wish i was kidding.

Anyway, it was a long year, one of the girls turned out to be one of those clingy roomies that wanted to be BEST FRIENDS FOREVER.  Unfortunately, it just wasn’t going to happen- she needed to be on meds and I needed to get out of there. When she realized I was not trying to be anything more than roommates with her– she went BATSHITCRAZY>>

She would play the soundtrack to Alvin & the Chipmunks while I’d be studying in the room on full blast.

She claimed she was allergic to my perfume (WHO THE FUCK IS ALLERGIC TO DOLCE&GABBANA?) — so I had to go outside to spray myself, even though for 6 months she had been fine.

She would NEVER LEAVE THE ROOM.

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So, sh!t hit the fan and I moved out. And when I did, everyone who knew the situation was on my side. They thought she was absolutely insane. And this got to my head a little. Instead of moving on, I decided I’d make her life hell. Why? Because I could. It started out pretty mild, my friends and I’d just laugh or say something insulting when she’d walk by — then I went a little crazy, and accidentally spilled milk on her one morning, in the dining hall. I started laughing as I walked away, expecting her to storm over and scream at me or something. But she didn’t.

She just cried.

And that’s when I became the bully, and she became the victim. That’s when no one took my side.

Sometime’s being a bitch can give you a power complex, and that’s when its NOT about honesty anymore, it’s just about hurting.

Just because you have the balls to do & say things other usually can’t, does not give you the right to overpower them.

So I’ll end off on this joonies…

I am a bitch because I value honesty over false compliments and flattery. NOT because I take pride in hurting others. Let your inner bitch out because the witch needs to breath, but keep a leash on her!

I really need some of these cards.

Any Bitch/Bully Stories to share?

FACEBOOK US

sexandfessenjoon@gmail.com

your favorite bitch,

saaghi  ساقی
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