Hotwheels

Many of you will find this laughable. For the record, I am not ready to laugh about it.




I have a brother. During my childhood, a lot of my easy bake oven time was imposed with hot wheel races and make believe wars. Considering my diversity, I dabbled. Not only did I play with my little kitchenette, plastic food, baby dolls, strollers, and vacuum cleaners, I also took time for “war”, hot wheels, plastic lawn mowers, pellet guns, and GI Joes.


I will not lie. As an adult, I now get pissed every time I walk down a toy aisle. I strongly believe that society is fucked up and shoveling stereotypes down little kid’s mouths.




“Here you go little girl, here’s a baby, a stroller, an oven, and fake cleaning supplies. You are destined for great things.”




Assholes.




I think this continues to piss me off because of days like today. Today is the seventh time some fuck face guy has broken my vacuum cleaner. They call themselves. “dumping the bag,” or “cleaning the filter.” It never fails, upon the return of the vacuum cleaner to my room, the fucking thing is broken. Seventh male. Seventh vacuum cleaner.


Tell me why I find this machine to be the simplest piece of equipment to ever exist. I’m a female and therefore I am stereotyped about complicating things. (Yeah, thank you for that one, whoever you are.) Yet somehow I can make that damn vacuum cleaner work, fix it... if it breaks, and at this point I could probably build a new one out of all the old cell phones I’ve collected.




Diversity. Is this concept lost?


Not only can I cook your fucking dinner, take care of a kid, wash dishes, vacuum, scrub a toilet, and remember to take a bath without a fucking reminder…. I can ALSO cut grass, check my oil, climb fucking trees, build a porch, shoot somebody(if necessary), and get on ladders to clean gutters.




I’m so good I can probably have ALL of this done before the chicken comes out of the oven.


It will take a male all damn day to break my vacuum cleaner…




Guys, here’s the thing, when I played with your hot wheels I was only rolling the bitches around. Therefore I only get in my car and roll around in the bitch. When some shit gets broken, I take it to a hot wheel specialist. Luckily I’m bright enough to know how to “clean” my own damn hot wheels without fucking something up...


If you never pushed a plastic vacuum and pretended to clean, please stay the fuck away from a real one and “fixing” it. Don’t use it as some pathetic excuse to never have to vacuum either. If I’m not allowed to have flat tires and drive around in my car and say, “I didn’t know,” then you are not allowed to be disgusting and say, “I didn’t know.” It’s the same fucking thing. HIRE somebody.




If you got a wife, fuck what you heard, she is not hired help. If you really think your cock is payment, please go play in traffic.


Diversify yourself and stop being a waste of space. You are a calculation in global warming; the least you could do is be useful.


If this is some conspiracy males pull to get out of cleanliness then it’s time for the male species to disafuckingpear. Or how about a simple reality check... not that they listen...( so, disappearing seems more feasible.)


I’m pretty sure butch Barbie can fix my fucking hot wheels, therefore you aren’t needed.




If there is ever another guy to ask me, “How’d you crank up the lawn mower?” I will drop kick him.


If another one of you douche bags break my vacuum cleaner because you were “cleaning it”... I am relatively sure I am going to prison. I hope my female fan base writes me letters and brings me cookies at visitation. (Oatmeal and raisins, soft batch please)




As it turns out, their plastic hot wheels are as of much use as they are.




Roar.


(I can smile now. I smile only at the thought of strangling you over my vacuum cleaner.)