We ask a sexy babe what pisses her off. Today’s Ballbreaker: Kimbyr Leigha
I notice that a lot of people Tweet vague ramblings about their personal relationships with no context at all. These are the grief-stricken sad sacks, serial bad-relationship junkies, and attention whores write these 140 character ramblings like: “The lies, I cry, without you I’d die…” Blah, blah, blah — get over it already! Who wants to hear that bullshit? Do you really think I want my timeline full of pathetic, vague tweets that make me wanna gouge my eyeballs out? No — Tweet me about the exciting things that you’re doing, and maybe throw in some smoking hot pics. This is not some group therapy session. If you have nothing interesting to say, pretend that you do! Isn’t that what Twitter is for?
Please do not pick me up. I mean that literally — do not grab me and lift me off the ground. I am petite — ok, short. Five feet tall on a good day. That doesn’t mean I want to be lifted three feet off the ground without notice and tossed around like a rag doll, face smooshed up against your heavily cologned chest, boobs being suffocated with my shirt sliding up my back and my shoes slowly sliding off my feet. If I wanted to get dizzy and half-naked experiencing zero gravity, I’d take a trip to the local fair and ride the gravitron! Please give us tiny girls a little respect.
I get e-mails from random guys without any professional websites or professional photography experience asking me if I would be interested in “expanding my portfolio.” If they have any samples of their work it is strangely consistent — horrible lighting, bad positioning, ridiculous themes that might have been a good idea if the pictures weren’t so obviously shot in the guy’s dingy garage. The sad thing is, lots of models fall for it. Hey, I went out and bought myself some nice boobs but that doesn’t make me a plastic surgeon. Girls, you can take better pictures of yourself with a cell phone and a mirror — these guys are just trying to sleep with you!
I think video games are pretty cool, but if you think I want to come to your house to watch you twiddling your thumbs on a plastic controller, you’re deluded. Hello — Kimbyr is here! Look at me! Look what I’m wearing! This is some hot stuff over here! Put the controller down and back away from the TV. All this playing Call of Duty on XBox Live, pretending you’re an army man with other guys you’ve never met — it’s almost like cheating on me. With random guys. Kinda gay.
Why do men bark at my dogs while I am taking them for a walk? This has got to be one of the dumbest, most annoying things I experience on a daily basis. I have three small dogs, and inevitably men make fun of them by barking and saying stupid things like “Wow I bet you call him Killer.” I guess if I didn’t have my dogs you’d be saying the stupid things to me — “Baby can I get fries with that shake?” or whatever you think is funny or charming. Leave my dogs out of it; they are quietly minding their own business trying to relieve themselves and the last thing they need is to be antagonized while they’re popping a squat. Next time you’re having private time on the toilet I hope someone bursts in and calls you Killer. A final thought — you’re barking at my dogs like an idiot while I am holding a bag of poo, and I throw pretty good for a girl…
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