I got called a horse-faced cunt today. By someone called Jessiika who was unhappy about a post that I didn’t write. I’ve been called many things in my time, but never a horse-faced cunt. It made my day complete.
These days, I have minimal internet feelings left. Once you’ve been in this game for a while and waded through a shit storm or two, you learn to roll with the punches. Oh yeah, she also said she wished she could punch me in the face. Nice.
But that wasn’t the most exciting part of my day. Oh no. I sat through a one-hour show of Mister Maker live, where he made a cup-cupcake, some paper plate watermelon complete with pips and a plate of wool spaghetti with sponge and paint sauce on top. My kids were delirious with joy. I was only momentarily interested when he did “big box little box”.
After that, I took my kids to lunch on Southbank. They were tired. They were hungry. They were rude and demanding little
turds cherubs and we had a pretty average time until the food arrived and everything was amazing. For 5 minutes.
This week I have had both kids sick, a near miss with the emergency ward and an all-night ear-ache marathon where I googled how to get shares in Nurofen. So when #horsefacedcuntgate hit my screen I was into that like a box of Favourites. Anything to dull the pain of the week of not much sleep and school holiday blues.
It started out with a simple flounce. You know, when Felicia announces she is leaving the page and wants everyone to pay attention.
You see, there’s a type with these kinds of announcers. They seek validation or “likes” from others who share their opinion. But in this case……crickets.
But she wasn’t alone. There was another woman outraged by my post who told me she thought I was the “Live and let live, non-judgemental type”. Errrr….say what to the what now?
I judge EVERYTHING. And I told her that. So she deleted her post….no more fun for Kewie. Dang.
Here’s a Pro-Tip™ for anyone that decides they don’t want to hang with my crew anymore. FUCK OFF. And when you get there, fuck off some more. Don’t try and grab the mic and think that anyone will give a flying toss if you are still there or not. And if you are going to insult me, PLEASE, for the love of god, don’t fuck up the golden opportunity and write it like Trump in an itchy Twitter finger rage. Lift your game. Elevate your flounce with some innovative slurs and put some fucking effort into it.
And, Jessiika. This is for you.
Fuck you to all the flouncers and the illiterate trolls. And especially the ones that announce their departure like they want a fucking medal and a red carpet and a slow clap from every other motherfucker on this page. It isn’t going to happen. Just go. We won’t miss you.