Something Different

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Last night, I started to make a list.

Yes, it is sort of mean.

At the very least it is certainly not politically correct.

I name this list…Names of Stereotypical Bimbos.

These names, when you hear them, can often be associated with women wearing pink lipstick and very small tops, which barely cover enormous…enhancements. Enhancements which compensate for what is in these women’s heads.

Alright, now shut up! Yes, this is definitely not a nice thing to write, but I’m not really a nice person, now am I? And think of all the bimbos you see on TV. Or even people you may know in real life.

Fine…mainly TV.

The point is, there’s so many names which, like it or not, we automatically link with these people on television, who are often the unsuspecting prey to the serial womaniser. Yes, I’m looking at you Barney Stinson.

Now as a beforehand, yes, you non-existent readers may have these names. And you may be geniuses with IQ’s double my own. Like I said, this list is far from being politically correct. So please, if you don’t like this sort of thing, DO NOT READ IT. It’s only for a bit of a laugh, for horrible people like me. And if you do decide to read this, despite being against stereotypes, it is not my fault if you are offended by this list.

Do we understand, imaginary readers, who are nice and lovely and pure?

…Or at least readers who are offended by stereotypes of pretty bimbos?

Alright, now stop reading.

For the rest of you…

Now, here’s an example of how mean I can be.

Behold…The Names of Stereotypical Bimbos List.

Or by it’s alternate title, What Not To Call Your Daughter. And no, I cannot be more creative than that.

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Candy. Or Kandy. Or worse, Kandi. Or even worse, the dreaded double i…. Kandii. *shudder*

Crystal. Or Krystal. Seriously, who thought it would be a good idea to put in a K instead of a C in Crystal? It makes it even more tacky.

Amber. Personally, I don’t know what’s wrong with Amber, but my mother apparently skipped the name when naming me, because it sounded like a stripper’s name.

Barbie. I always hated Barbie as a kid. She always seemed too goody goody to be an actual human being. So whenever I hear the name on another person, I end up associating them with the stupid doll. I’m a horrible person…but seriously, why would you name your daughter after the iconic doll? You’re putting them through years of PAIN!!

Bambi. Or Bambii, (ewwwwwwww). The name belongs to an adorable little deer, who is incredibly innocent. Of course, this name is suitable when your baby is an adorable little girl, with big innocent eyes. But it’s pretty tacky on a grown woman.

Skipper. Wasn’t that Barbie’s little sister or something? Whatever. I always felt that Skipper sounded like the daughter that lived in her sisters shadow, and would probably go into the sex, drugs and alcohol scene as she strove to make her own image. Nuff said.

Monique.

Or anything that ends with the sound “eek”.

Kelly. Or Kelli. Double i doesn’t look like it would work here, so I’ll just stick with Kelli. But for some reason, I cannot take the name Kelly/Kelli seriously. It sounds like the name of a little girl, not really one for a grown woman.

Honey. Yes, How I Met Your Mother may have influenced this a bit, but when you think about it, yeah, it does sort of fit.

Tiffany. Or, its evil twins, Tiffani and Tiffanii.

Brittany, Brittani and Brittanii.

Cindy, Cindi and Cindii. Again, names which belong to a little girl, and not a grown woman.

Hayley or Haylee.

Paris. And for the record, this name would’ve never been on the list if it hadn’t been for the infamous Hilton. A name that once suggested culture and sophistication now implies sex tape and spoilt rich girlness.

Lexi. Rhymes with sexy. And that’s the first thing that comes to mind when one hears that name. Doesn’t matter if you’re a physicist or an engineer; Lexi will always be associated with sexy.

Diamond. Or worse, Diamond spelt incorrectly. Aka. Diammond, Dyamond, etc.

Sky or Skye.

Nicky, Nicki, Nikki (ulgh….)

Karma.

Dolly.

Chloe, or worse, Khloe.

Parmie.

Stacey, or Stacee.

Baby. Although, I cannot imagine anyone naming their child Baby. Nickname, maybe. Actual name, no. Unless they happened to be on crack when writing down the name of the birth certificate.

Casey, or Kasey.

Kelsy, Kelsie, Kelsi.

Sally, Sallie or Salli.

Sandy. Though fortunately, it can be lengthened to Sandra, so they don’t have to face the embarrassment in the workplace.

Charity. Slutty girl who’s only thoughts involve makeup and hair, and her name is Charity. Walking contradiction!

Hope. Ditto.

Faith. Again, ditto.

Just about any adjective which is used as a name!
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So that concludes my Bimbo Name List.

Yes, I know. I am a horrible person. My mother tells me this daily, so don’t bother reminding me. I warned you, non existent reader.

One thing I’ve noticed about these names is that the majority of them are incredibly cutesy. They’re more often nicknames for a little girl, rather than actual names. Parents might give these names to their little baby girls, and because they are babies and they’re adorable, it’s acceptable.

But the thing is, these babies get older. And they grow into independent women, who will come to despise the name Bambi or Sally or whatever name you gave them when they start working in industries where little girl names are unquestionably laughable. It may even start earlier. Or they’ll choose to stay a little girl. Mentally anyway. I mean, the alternative is to get picked on in the workplace, so why go into one then? Why not just remain a pretty little girl?

So. Two options then; the eternal hate of your daughter, or at the very least, the fact that your daughter will never hit her full potential.

Oh, and lets not forget about the dreaded ‘double i’s’. Or even just names with an i instead of a y at the end. And let’s not forget names that are horribly misspelt. That’s right Krystal/Kristal. And you two aren’t the only culprits. It’s like people seem to think that changing the letters of a word makes it a creative name. Kristal is not a creative name.

…I sound like that notepad on Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared.

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Then again, I am being incredibly bigoted at the moment. Everything I have mentioned thus far are stereotypes. It’s not just girls called Candy who become bimbos, and at the same time, people who are called Candy can achieve great things. Though to be fair, these stereotypes have to come from somewhere…

Oh dear…

So for those non existent readers who don’t hate my guts at the moment, here’s Question of the Day.

Actual, two Questions of the Day.

For those kind souls out there, here’s this one: What names do you hate? I think all of you non existent readers have met at least one person who’s name you can’t stand. Or maybe you hate a name because of a certain person. Tell me about it!

For those people who are horrible, like me, here’s your Question of the Day. Actually, it’s more of a challenge. Add more names to my Bimbo list! If I can do it, you can do it. C’mon guys, let’s get creative!!!

Wait, nononononononono….

Anyway, being horrible is tiring, so I shall go now.

Also, Part Three of Cat Runs Away is coming out tomorrow, so stay tuned, for the adventures of a horrible person.

Mad Cat.

Good?

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Imaginary reader, tell me this.

Are you a good person?

Think about it for a bit. Imagine that Jesus or God or whatever you believe in was looking at everything you’ve done in your life, and imagine what their reaction would be. What would they think?

I know how they’d react looking at my record. Two words: Lost Cause.

It’s not that I don’t try to be a good person, because I do try. It’s a good feeling, when you do something that makes others smile. Especially when you’re sad all the time, like me. It gives you some feeling of purpose to your otherwise empty life.

The only thing is, with me, everything I do comes back and hits me in the face. You ever hear that expression, No good deed goes unpunished? Yeah, well, some ass has probably been doing a whole lotta good deeds and put me as the return address. And thanks to my brain, that is an actual possibility for me.

I think too much.

But yes, I try to be a good person, but sometimes it’s just too hard. Because some people expect too much. And some people use yelling and screaming as their method to demand too much.
Take this scenario for example; I am cleaning my room, listening to music as I work, (GOOD music, FYI, with actual talent involved) when all of a sudden, my mother charges in. And I get to hear her screech about all the things I have not yet done.

Here’s the list of complaints, sans the screechy mother-from-hell voice.

-I have not vacuumed my room; as the vacuum is still being used by my brother to do god knows what.
-I have not picked up a pillow on the floor, which renders her completely unable to walk in this ‘hellhole’.
-My dressing gown is on my box, instead of my already loaded coat hanger.
-There are things under my bed. Things that NEED to go under there so I can walk through my room.
-My desk is too cluttered.
-I read too much. I must stop reading. The less I read, the more time I’ll have to place that pillow on my bed; which is not needed.

And finally….

-I have too much crap in my room. Which is becoming more of a storage space for all the crap my mother buys-often without asking. It is entirely my fault a place cannot be found for said crap, and I am the spawn of Satan for being unable to organise it in a matter that satisfies my mother.

It’s not the complaining that bothers me, it’s the screaming. Every time I have to put up with her yelling, I end up with a headache. Which makes me go to my room. Which makes me black out and fall into Delirium, where there is, you guessed it Imaginary Reader!, more yelling and screaming.

As opposed to Reality though, Delirium has people yelling and screaming about things that matter. What these matters are, I’ll save for a time where I’m feeling even more upset and vulnerable, and I have an uncontrollable urge to spill my secrets. It’s almost funny, how Delirium is the world which makes more sense to me; for all it’s secrets and mysteries behind it, the ones there are far easier to understand than the world where people screech about cleaning and other things that barely matter.

I have gotten off track. My point is that I am a horrible person. I’m working on it, but I’m not getting very far. And I have no idea how people stand me. My friends are wonderful people, and I find myself wondering why they allow me to hang out with them; for all my faults, for every time that I’ve gone all Delusional on them, they still care about me.

And that’s what inspires me to be a better person. If they can stand a psychotic, delusional bitch like me, I can at least try to be the best person I can be.

Though I probably will never remember to put that stupid pillow on my bed.

To sum it up; yes, there are good and bad people in this world. But no one is purely good or bad; people can do bad things with good intentions, just like good people can have selfish motivations for doing something seemingly unselfish.

Also, what even is a good person? Because there are so many ways a person can be flawed, so there’s no way someone can be perfect. But what makes someone a good person? How many flaws are they allowed to have? Answer below, nonexistent reader, in the comments.

Back to my role as the spawn of Satan.
Also, my grandparents will be here soon. Eeeeeek! O_O
Yours truly,

Cat Madigan