Name: Tara

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
I live with my boyfriend, and I couldn't be happier about having such a kickass roommate.

[Didn't I already talk to you?]

However, the one negative aspect of our new arrangement is the abundance of nosy, prying people who ask us when we're getting engaged/married.

[Who's the person who introduces herself as Tara with the kickass live-in boyfriend? Wait. Maybe I'm reading this wrong. He's not kickass, he's KICKING your ASS. That explains it...I guess.]

It's tactless,

[I agree. I don't care who you are fucking, especially when he's not willing to make an honest woman out of you.]

and I hate the implication that a diamond would somehow validate our relationship.

[Ah, but it DOES. It means that he's willing to part with some hard-earned money as a down-payment for the exclusive rights to your pussy.]

If my "living in sin" offends your moral sensibilities, you're welcome to be outraged (just as I am welcome to mock you in turn).

[It's not my morality that is offended. I don't want to know about your affairs.]

I can't fucking stand those women who get lost in the fantasy of being a princess in a poufy white monstrosity on the happiest! day! of her life!, while completely ignoring the actual marriage that is to follow. In fact, the only thing I hate more is people I don't know very well trying to impose that lame fantasy on me.

[Wait. That IS you.]

One Liner:
If I think I can learn from you, I'll try. If not, I'll probably send a hearty dose of scorn in your direction, if I bother with you at all.

[That isn't scorn; it's sour grapes.]

Name: Shannon

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
I'm a bartender who has spent four years asking the rhetorical question "How are you doing today?" in order to establish a repoir with my customers.

[Aside from asking, "what'll it be," this is what bartenders DO.]

It's not a soul-searching question, it's small talk that requires a simple reply "I'm fine and I'll take a brewski."

[You can't be as naive as all that. The whole world knows that there are certain people you can cry on, and that would be your hair stylist, your pastor or priest, and the bartender.]

The same applies to anyone else I ask the question to in greeting. Say you're fine and we'll both move on. Don't give me your emotionall distressing life-story.

[You're the bartender. If you don't like it, get a job mopping jizz or something.]

I don't have time to listen to bullshit. I wasn't interested in the first place, I was asking simply out of good manners.

[You're getting paid to NOT REALLY LISTEN, you know. Listening to drunks has its perks, after all. It's pretty funny stuff, and you can charge twice. (Okay, I know you can't, but there IS such a thing as a "pain-in-the-ass surcharge.")]

I have my own shit going on, but I don't chew a person's ear off about it.

[What the fuck do you call this?]

I've been called countless derogatory names because I'll stop someone from giving me their life story.

[That's why you don't get good tips.]

So, I suppose my intolerance for emotional inadequacy makes me a heartless bitch.

[Your idiocy prevents this.]

One Liner:
"Nobody can bring you peace but yourself" -Ralph Waldo Emerson

[Quoting smart people is a start, but not a substitute.]

Name: Alice

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
dude give me the card now or i'll hurt you

[Dude. BRING it.]

One Liner:
no

[I'm not sure what you get out of this.]

Name: Melissa

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
I'm a heartless Bitch because I refuse to except the fact that my boyfriend of 2 years broke up with me due to his kids hating me

[It's reason enough for ME to leave. Hell, I'd dump you if my DOG didn't like you. If I didn't like you. Yeah, that goes without saying.]

and his ex-wife (whom works for attorneys) have threatened to take his children away from him if he continued to stay in a relationship with me.

[Probably because you're a psycho.]

I think that is a sad exsistance for a human being to go around ruining a relationship due to the fact she is a bitter bitch and can't seem to move on with her life.

[There are two ways to look at this. Either you are a clueless crazy, in which case getting out of this relationship is good for both of you, or THEY are hopelessly fucked up, in which case getting out of this relationshiop is good for both of you. It's a win-win situation.]

I was convinced it was all her, until I found him kissing on this black chic from his class.

[Not just black but CHIC. You must have felt outclassed.]

(that is sick)

[Why? (Old joke: Her mind is so narrow she could look through a keyhole with BOTH eyes.)]

Come to find out my whole relationship was a lie!

[Good riddance, then. Why are you telling me?]

He had been talking shit behind my back the whole time we were together.

[I can hear it now: "Dude, this chick keeps calling my house, begging me to call her, and I'm all like, 'Dude, I don't fucking KNOW you.' Can guys be protected by the stalking law?"]

Only by mistake did I find out from some of his newly found classmate/friends what he had been saying about me. So since he put my shit out on the street, I felt I owed him the same curtisy

[You're not one for the moral high road, not you.]

and told his friends everything he said about them...plus a few extra tid-bits like he fucks himself up the ass with a vaccum cleaner.

[And they believed this? Let's recap. He is breaking up with you because his kids (rightfully) hate you, but you saw him with another BLACK (gasp) woman, and he talked shit about you, so you did the same, and I'm supposed to believe that this is all coming from the same person?]

It was a bitchy low-down thing to do,

[You're not only an idiot, but you're a bad liar, too.]

but turning the other cheek at that point in time was not happening!

[I can't imagine a point in time in which it WAS happening for you.]

Sometimes we women do what we have to do to survive it that means we are bitches then so be it..I refuse to be walked on anymore by pathetic, minipulating, control freaks!

[Oh, no. Don't lump me in with you.]

One Liner:
Underneath the Cover Girl make lies a bitch not to be messed with!

[She'll make up ridiculous lies that she thinks will harm you. She's told classic whoppers like, "He fucks curling irons...when they're still plugged in." Who could forget, "I saw him roll his own shit up and smoke it"? All these dumb-ass lies brought to you by the people who brought you "Melissa Melanoma--Crazed Stalker."]

Name: Shine

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
I applied about a year ago and was denied membership. My room-mate theorized that it was a technicality, because she had already used my qualifying email for her app.

[That's not a bad assumption.]

So I had almost forgotten all about this web-site until recently, when I received your holiday merchandise email addressed to her. I got interested again.

[Forget it. You're still sharing email. I'm not fooled.]

I have decided to apply again not only because I now have another qualifying email, but also because since I last applied I have truly been put to the test to practice what I preach.

[Don't you DARE tell me a story.]

My last application, while citing some actual examples, leaned more on personal manifesto and quotes from bad-ass female poets. I noted that the Bitch Bouncer hates stories, but just being a subscriber is not enough. One must also be a doer.

[Be a do-NOT-er. Don't tell me a story, especially after admitting that you KNOW BETTER than this.]

Per my last application, and per many of the sentiments I have read expressed here by other members, I will now simply say, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" and "But of course" for the philosophic and ethical side. Thus, I submit my qualifications based on actual recent events, hopefully while not rambling on too much and resembling a story.

[This IS a story. I was going to dig out your old application, but why bother. You're still sharing email. You're still telling me irrelevant stories. Your application is run-on drivel. There's nothing to recommend you.]

CAREER: I held out for the 'Right' job.

[AAAAAHHH. A bunch of stories.]

Ok, no big deal there. But I had decided that I would not work for some Patriarchal-Corporate-American, profit-driven entity. I worked cleaning the houses of the shareholder's of such until I found my place.

[You didn't want to work for some Patriarchy, so you elected to be a maid?]

I got hired on the basis of my education and merit from answering a newspaper ad. I was hired as a part-time Office Manager and 'book-keeper' to be under the guidance of a contract CPA. With-in a month I was promoted to full-time status with the title of Accounting and Office Manager, and the lettered (and expensive) CPA was on her way out the door because I had successfully exposed and proved her inadequacy and her lack of accountability to the E.D. and the Finance Committee. She probably still has her job with the P-C-A CPA firm, anyway. But, I strive to continue to be asset to this public service organization, and I am succeeding.

[Jesus, what the fuck does this have to do with anything?]

MANIPULATIVE MALE ENCOUNTER:

[NOT a pre-requisite.]

I surmise that the reason I have not had much experience in this area is because it does not take a suitor long to figure out that I am not a Pretty Princess that can BE manipulated. However, there are really some persistent shits out there and I had to work to evade this one's clutches. The scary thing was that I was not in a romantic relationship with this person! So... I went out with This Guy a few times and no sparks, no go, (and no harm, no foul, I thought). He found ways to insinuate a continued connection with my life

[Because you kept LETTING HIM IN. Reason 38 to kick you to the curb. Your email is the LEAST of your problems.]

and when he found out that both my room-mates were moving (a few mo.'s later) he "proposed" to be a housemate. Firstly, I laid down that I had my own life, etc. and that he should not consider this if he still had any romantic allusions. He lied. Secondly, I refused his offer to pay a two-thirds share and would only allow a 50/50 split I then narrowly missed a bullet by his not being able to get his name on the lease with mine. But I did make the mistake of taking him on as a sub-lessor.

[In other words, you were in a spot, and you weren't above using him. You got what you deserved.]

Things were only mildly weird until I started to have one of those whirlwind romances with someone, the kind where we stay together 3-4 nights of the week.

[I just call those weekend stands.]

Well, the Manipulator pulled all kinds of nasty, manipulative, and deliberately harmful tactics, which ended in a battle over the rental house. I won without the need, or desire, to stoop to his level of warfare. I simply used my right as the lease-holder to demand his vacation of the property, talked the land-owner back into reason after the Man. did his best to slander me, and held my own stance on the more subtle battlefield of the Wills.

[And you call HIM a manipulator. He probably had rules that you're skimming over here. Rules like, "No letting your fuck of the week use my toothbrush," or "Fuck on your OWN bed."]

SPIRITUALITY: I don't think the mere act of labeling myself Witch qualifies me, rather

[Gaaaaaaaaaah. Gurk. I think I may openly weep.]

the way I conduct myself as a witch. I realize that this particular niche in the study of misogyny and it's relevance to modern feminine empowerment is only one of many, but I am sure I do not need to explain to this audience the historic connection of the judgment Witch with a powerful woman, i.e. an HB, as one of the forms of discrimination that ruled during the witch-hunts.

[Oh, blah, blah, blah. You and every other little witchie-poo out there. You're cliché city. You're your very own drinking game.]

I have chosen to practice with a coven that holds a huge public, free ritual every Samhain

[Because it's all about the drama, for you.]

in a tradition started by their very selves in the face of all the usual good-ol-boyism (bible-belt location). And might I add that this is no pansy, watered down, new-agey ritual for those that are shocked to find that Hecate is NOT a beautiful virginal goddess?

[Who in the fuck would simultaneously RECOGNIZE Hecate AND think her a virgin goddess?]

I have chosen not to enmesh myself in the undercurrent of cattiness between regional high-priestesses (etc.) in the struggle to prove to others for ego validation who is the more "enlightened and powerful".

[But you want to share the pain with me, as if I haven't seen this about a hundred dozen times. Oh no, you want to show how "enlightened and powerful" you are by stating how you are above all of this.]

It has actually been quite a lesson to me lately to learn about this shortcoming in communities/groups perceived to be working for a greater good: the non-profits, the activists, as well as the pagan contingent whose goal is supposed to be to forge acceptance of cultural diversity. It's not just a minor handicap. How on earth can we expect to do this when we (or rather they) cannot bridge the gaps of suspicion and jealously amongst themselves?

[The problem with most non-profit groups is that they really can't afford to be selective about membership.]

And speaking of overt egotism, I reject the idea of a group-mind-cult coven built up around a fan-club base. The advantages of working the Craft with a group is the same as it is for many art forms; the advantages of having a teacher(s) the same. My teachers do not blandly advance a student simply for learning, memorizing, and fulfilling certain requirements. There has to be something more, that shows that a student is spiritually and emotionally stable and has a sense of integrity. In fact, a potential student will not even be taken on if they, say, treat the rituals like a singles nite or group therapy. I am sure current HBI members know that there are those that can become addicted to that blunt and pragmatic assessment that an HB can make of situations and the resulting advice, even if they never act on it. The act of being fawned over actually repulses me and I do not enjoy being consulted over every personal move just because I have more common sense.

[I'm back to openly weeping again.]

Well, three is the magic number... These instances are not something I have had to scrape together and embellish upon. I have carefully chosen some benchmarks that I believe best exemplify the way I strive to live my life.

[Thankfully this ended. I was about to put out mine own eyes for offending me.]

Thank you for your time and consideration.

[Fuck you.]

One Liner:
If the arrogant, vindictive, jealous, petty, manipulative and malicious people about you unjustifiably hate you, then you are on the right path.

[On the other hand, if those people only exist in your own mind, seek help.]

Name: Casey

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
I hate couples who are so in love they feel the need to tell the world by swapping tonsils in front of me.

[I smell jealousy.]

I hate it when my friends, who all know that I am unhappily single,

[I knew it.]

because I REFUSE to settle for the lame ass so-called men that inhabit the earth with me,

[Give it a week, you'll lower your standards.]

decide to flaunt their "romantic" and "Sweet" stories of their boyfriends in front of me.

[All the while they see you eating your heart out. Those bad, evil wenches!]

Listen up, honey...I don't brag about how skinny I am and how I can eat whatever I want

[Heart is a LOW CARB dish! (It's just bitter, bitter.)]

when you can't lose weight. And I wouldn't eat a steak in front of you if you were starving, so don't flaunt your romance in front of me, 'cause I don't give a damn!

[Yes, you dooooo!]

I refuse to date for convenience.

[(today!) Aw, you'll call in a guy for pipe maintenance soon enough.]

If you really want to screw something SOO BAD, guess what...you've got two working hands, buddy. I get my pleasure from my battery-operated friend. Why? Because he doesn't talk back, and once I'm satisfied, I can roll over and go to sleep. That's what I call happiness.

[You masturbate and cry, don't you?]

One Liner:
I know I'm a bitch. I come from a long line of them and I worked hard for my title. I don't put up with shit, and I don't take guilt trips.

[Stand in front of your mirror and say, "I don't need a man to be complete."]

Name: Erin

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
I once put VIcks vaporub on my ex-husbands hemorroids...to soothe the pain..then went out for a night with the girls. Bastard couldn't wipe it off, shower or bathe to remove it.

[Why not? It's water-soluble.]

I had a great time and brought the girls home after the bar. Reason for the vapo sensation? Because torturing someone was on my TO DO list.

[I wonder how many of your girls are on HIS "to do" list. Probably a "done did" list by now.]

I also fed him cheese and nachos knowing full well he was lactose intolerant.

[What a rebel. That's joke's on you. I can imagine the smell in your room that night.]

Never have a woman answer your phone in the hotel room.

[Ah, I knew it was something like that. I bet you didn't even leave HIM. I'll bet he left you. How do you know that you didn't misdial?]

One Liner:
The Bigger the cowboy hat, the smaller the penis.
Is there something wrong with your head? Because it seems your hair is running away from it

[Grass doesn't grow on a busy street.]

Name: Lucinda

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
I just am. And don't have to tell you nosey cunts why. Just give me the godamned card

[It's in the mail. You keep checking for it.]

One Liner:
I don't give a tuppeny fuck about your problems you worthless shitlicking whore

[Some folks come in knowing that they will be rejected.]

Name: Lauren

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
First of all, my webpage most definitely expresses Heartlessly Bitchy qualities and sentiments; however, the url is rather lengthy and did not fit in the box above,

[Consider it a sign that you should not have shared it.]

so I shall post it here: http://www.angelfire.com/creep/blahblahblahlblahblah/index.html (i recommend the "delightful revision of an essay I wrote last year" and "the idiot's guide to..." as heartlessly bitchy reads). I know in my heart (or a lack thereof by this site's standards) I am really and truly am a heartless bitch. I can't define the "reasons," but I'll try my best to provide examples.

[I know this means a STORY.]

Everytime I watch a romantic commedy (read: get forced into viewing them) I feel that a

[I hope that by "forced" you mean "gun to your head." I hope that if there IS a gun to your head, then one day you will rise up and refuse, and I hope that they shoot you.]

small part of me dies. It takes every single ounce of my being not to stand up in the middle of the theatre and scream, "YOU LYING SACK OF SHIT! [yeah, I tend to yell at inanimate objects] YOU SCREENWRITER IS UNORIGINAL, YOUR DIRECTOR CARES MORE ABOUT PROFIT THAN THE OVERALL QUALITY OF THIS PIECE OF SHIT, AND YOUR PRODUCER IS A WHORE! YOU ALL ARE NOTHING BUT SHEEP FOR WATCHING THIS MOVIE! SHEEP I TELL YOU!"

[Didn't I hear part of this in a different movie?]

I get pissed at people who think that feminist are all psycho raging-lesbians. Granted, I do not have a problem with psychos, or raging-lesbians, psycho raging-lesbians, or even raging-lesbian psychos. But just because I am a liberal feminst (definition: I want all rights and privileges that men have, granted to women as well- equal work for equal pay and such), doesn't mean that I view marriage as a horrible form of slavery becauses it forces women into housework and sex (can't remember the author's name, but I did have to read some feminist literary work that was that extreme in a composition class).

[This part wasn't bad, but it's the eye of the storm.]

I have helped my friends out of terrible situations. My best example is my friend, M-. She had been dating the same loser for a pretty good while and since he was away at school, most of us hadn't seen how shitty he had been to her. The one day, I was at her house. We had planned to go to a concert a few weeks in advance and said loser boyfriend decided that the two of them were doing something alone (read: booty call).

[Stop RIGHT there. A booty call doesn't happen between boyfriend and girlfriend. A booty call is when you are sitting at home, you have no steady partner, and you want sex anyway, so you open your book to see if there is anyone that you haven't pissed off, or pissed off in a while, or basically anyone that would be as desperate as you for a piece of ass. THAT'S a booty call. Back AWAY from the terminology before it hurts you.]

So he throws a temper tantrum over the phone. She goes ballistic and starts sobbing (understandably). I can actually hear this asshole yelling at her, "You are not allowed to see me. Don't ever call this number again." And I knew this loser would get mad and say things he never actually meant, for the mere enjoyment of upsetting her.

[And that's YOUR job.]

So I instanteously get pissed off. Knowing perfectly well that this dipshit can here me, I start screaming, "WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS!? GIVE ME THE GODDAMNED PHONE M-!" She wouldn't (pity, it would have been fun ripping him a new one),

[Great, now your dishrag friend has TWO people deciding for her.]

but I did get her to hang up on him. So off we went to the concert, where I set her up with the guitarist she had the hots for. He came over and started chatting with us, and I informed (read: made up on the spot) of our plans for after the concert, inviting him along, of course. He came, and they left together. Not even four hours after her asshole boyfriend of a couple years went ape shit, I get her to fool around with a new guy she'd be crushing on for a while. She's a hero in my eyes. ::sigh::

[You're just the mastermind behind it all. You didn't help her, you know. She took an ass-whipping behind that one.]

I have no problem standing up for myself, or anything else I believe in. A prime example

[Why do you fucks think that any of this has any meaning for anyone that isn't YOU?]

of this would have been how I dealt with my high school. The alma mater was quite the fascist regime.

[It's a fucking HIGH SCHOOL. They are a fascist regime by their very nature.]

It was an oligarchy as well, run a few socially-accepted folks who felt the need to insult and ridicule those they deemed "beneath them." I was one of those "beneath" folks, I feel

[You and all the other little pariahs. Here's a question. There's about a dozen "Golden" people, and about a couple hundred, if not a thousand, of you brooding outcasts per school. How do THEY rule? Yeah, NOW sit in your pity pot and cry.]

because I did what I want and said what I felt; furthermore, I didn't (and still don't) care too much about what people think of me. And I feel this was intimidating to said socially-accepted fascists. I had befriended a majority of these people, before I realized they were belittling and backstabbing me. So off Lauren went on a little Lauren tangent. These people were confronted and told never to speak to me again. This led to constant criticism of yours truly whenever a group of them were together, in classes. Faculty would have to stop teaching so the little brats could discuss me: what was wrong with me, what makes me tick, etc. Finally, I had enough. One of my friends had written down a few quotations said during the discussion. I wrote a nice little letter, refuting every quote I had recieved. Copies of the letter swarmed around the halls, but I just laughed. Looking back, it's almost flattering how much time, attention, and money (making the copies) they spent on me.

[Jesus, this is EXACTLY the kind of crap that makes me say, "Yes indeedy, THIS is a Heartless Bitch right here. I WANT to go down her thorny memory lane and relive her high school drama.]

Lastly, I would like to say I never classified myself as "heartless" or "bitchy." It almost makes it seem like being content without having some guy to "complete" you is a bad thing. However, after reading this site, I realized that in doctorine, I am indeed a "heartless bitch," whether or not I get to be the few and proud who are indeed card-carrying members. Either way you decide, thank you for your time.

[If my fellow members didn't kill me for accepting you, I'd have no choice but to kill myself. I couldn't even seriously consider this application if I smoked all the crack in New York City.]

One Liner:
"Remember, even Prince Charming was a jerk. He pimped out Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and Cinderella." -LG (me)

[What the fuck are you TALKING about? Prince Charming never did much of ANYTHING, and pimping is definitely an ACTION. Prince Charming is a shoe salesman, and possibly the kind of guy who would sneak into your room and sniff your panties.]

"Men are merely puppets controlled by intelligent beings called 'testicles'" -MB (my friend's sister... I'm literally jealous I didn't think of it first.)

[Oh, yeah, now THERE'S the quote of the day.]