Something very poignant has occurred to me lately: I’m a bitch. Now, I've never been known as a particularly nice person. Not that I'm up there with Hitler or anything, but I'm not having tea and crumpets with Mother Theresa either. And not just cause the whore is dead! I'm wouldn’t say I’m overtly mean or anything, but pious, selfless, altruistic or even particularly pleasant probably aren't the first words that come to mind for one who REALLY knows me.
I have long been in awe of genuinely nice people. My sister, Charlene -- she’s nice. Biggest heart in the world, would do anything for ya, loves everyone. When I was younger, I was particularly ornery. See, my sister has always been a little bigger than me though she’s five years my junior. She’s by no means fat but of course that didn’t stop me from coming up with sweet little nicknames like “lardo” and “tubby.”
I actually had three sisters and a favorite pastime of the Millenette Quartet was to fight. Let me expand… not just fight; beat the living shit out of each other. The four of us would stand at the doorway whenever my parents were heading out for afternoon errands. We’d smile our biggest innocent smiles and wave them goodbye. They were anticipating that we’d do our chores while they were gone. We’d get to that. But first we’d close the door and immediately rip into each other’s hair. The living room would quickly turn into a WWF ring. DING DING DING… Let's get ready to rumble! After that, it was a barrage of bruises, bite marks and wads of hair. My personal favorite move was what I’d like to call “The Headbanger.” This was a perfect moniker since it basically involved taking a sister by the hair and banging her head into the wall. Clever.
While Charlene was always involved (kill or be killed), she never really had her heart in it. When people would bite her, she wouldn’t have the nerve to bite back… even when my parents proposed it. (Until the day she misunderstood and literally bit the neighbor kid’s BACK.) Throughout the years though, even with my big mouth and big moves, I always SECRETLY knew that if Charlene ever realized her own strength, she would pummel me within an inch of my life. There’d be nothing left of me but a bloody pulp laying on the otherwise freshly vacuumed carpet. Somewhere around my sophomore year in high school, Charlene did in fact learn of her power. It was right around then that the cage matches ended. I’m not a masochist!
A couple of other people I know of come to mind when I think of just genuinely good people. My high school best friend’s mother (SHE would be invited to crumpets with Jesus) and Intrepid Media’s own Tracey Kelley. The fact that her title is “Fairy Godmother” is no coincidence, folks. She’s sweet and thoughtful and the first person you ever want to talk to when the world’s feeling all topsy turvy. Not to mention that I do believe she has her very own jar of sunshine.
But I have no jar of sunshine. I’ve got a lot of glitter, but no sunshine. I often find myself in a good mood, but I can’t say that’s very selfless. It’s a real pain in the ass for me to be immersed in an unhappy demeanor. And on occasion, I can even attest to the fact that my happiness may be based on someone else's misfortune. My ex-boyfriend got his stripper girlfriend pregnant? HA! HIGH FIVES FOR EVERYONE! That bastard company I used to work for is involved in a PR scandal and is about to go under? WEll, ZIPPITY DO DAH DAY!
But heel clicks aside, you may never outwardly notice what a real bitch I can be. I mean, I say “Thank you” to the bus driver, I wish the cashier clerk a good day and I brake for cripples stuck in the crosswalk. But SOME days, I really hate the world. I want to shred through the phone book beginning with Aaron Anderson and going all the way to Zoe Zaxby… carefully concocting personally pinpointed insults to each and every one of you and scream them through the receiver. I want to play on your insecurities and insult your upbringing.
These are the days that I’m the person behind you in traffic, with a scowl so firmly planted on my face that you confuse it for my normal expression. I’m cursing with abandon and calling you names that even I am offended by when I hear them uttered by other people. These are the days where I think the single most joyous thing to do would be to walk into the local Target, strut determinedly toward the “housewares” aisle and proceed to throw each and every last piece of dinnerware into the wall while jumping up and down repeatedly screaming, “MOTHERFUCKER!!!”
To be fair, it's been months since I grabbed someone by the hair and threw their head into the nearest wall. And while these days don't come often, when they do, they're fierce. And maybe swearing at innocent bystanders and shattering dinner plates isn't exactly constructive, it certainly makes me feel good.
And on those days, my personal enjoyment is all that really counts.
Heather has a penchant for drama, both personally and professionally. She secretly wishes people spoke in song and wholeheartedly believes that everyone deserves a standing ovation now and again. She finds it appalling that people reserve champagne only for special occasions, when champagne is clearly best on a Tuesday, while riding the subway, accompanying a slice of kick-ass pizza.
ABOUT HEATHER M. MILLEN
more about heather m. millen
IF YOU LIKED THIS COLUMN...
3.28.05 @ 8:03a
strut determinedly toward the “housewares” aisle and proceed to throw each and every last piece of dinnerware into the wall while jumping up and down repeatedly screaming, “MOTHERFUCKER!!!”
Whoooboy, that's funny!
I certainly appreciate the love and affection, darling, but you know, you don't have to live with me. I'm sure Matt would have a completely different opinion.
In fact, unfortunately, I think Meredith Brooks nailed it. There are many different sides to everyone - no doubt about it. So while I do like to think I'm sweet and thoughtful, I'll be the first to admit that as soon as I find out someone is taking advantage of those characteristics, I will delicately strip the flesh of his or her bones while humming Mary Had a Little Lamb.
The old theater is involved in a PR scandal? Nooooo....
3.28.05 @ 10:22a
You get 'em, tough girl! I say go with what you got, even if it's chronic PMS.
Alright, I'll brighten your day with a little gender-based quid pro quo: Your column explains why many men are obsessed and seemingly gravitate toward younger women: Menopause. It's the World Series of bitchiness, The Grand Pooh-bah! We generally fear it.
Now, your end of the deal, Clarisse: What do all you bitches say in the restroom together?
3.28.05 @ 11:22a
Well, it wouldn't be any fun if there weren't those dimensions too, Tracey.
And for the record, no, the theatre is A-OK. As far as I know!
3.28.05 @ 12:02p
3.28.05 @ 12:43p
Ah, the old cold-shoulder. Classic bitch technique, well done.
3.28.05 @ 12:45p
Are you calling me "Clarisse?"
3.28.05 @ 12:48p
Are you calling me "Clarisse?"
Correct. I can't resist the whole Starling/Lecter analog to you and Mike. Sorry.
3.28.05 @ 1:04p
I know bitches, Heather what you’ve described is “pissy”.
3.28.05 @ 1:12p
Hmm... Calling a self-described bitch "pissy." That's smart.
3.28.05 @ 1:14p
I live 3,000 miles away.
3.28.05 @ 1:40p
Heather, Dathan apparently lives near me. Let me know if you want me to bitch-slap him for you. Or break all his dinnerware or something.
3.28.05 @ 1:41p
Calling a self-described bitch "pissy." That's smart.
Smart? Genius. Man I envy Dathan.
He has a great bio too. Gold, even.
As for Pissy Miss Millen, I think she may have buggered off.
3.28.05 @ 2:03p
Yeah, what’s up with the discussion being so lame these days? Fix it Joe.
3.28.05 @ 2:22p
I was off bludgeoning passersby for sport. You rang?
3.28.05 @ 2:28p
Yeah, hit us with your best shot, Golden Shower Goddess!
3.28.05 @ 2:58p
What's broke? You fellows are having no problem flirting with Heather.
3.28.05 @ 3:10p
CUT THE SHIT.
3.28.05 @ 5:01p
I think Dan’s flirting (though I hope to god that’s not how he flirts) I was just sayin'.
This may be the longest thread so far this year.
3.29.05 @ 9:39a
Nah, you should see the discussion on Russ' "Lolitavision."
As for this topic, everybody's got their days. I think it takes more than the occasional bad mood to be a real bitch. Just because you want to swear at innocent bystanders doesn't make you a bitch. Swearing at your boyfriend when he draws your bath and doesn't sprinkle quite enough rose petals in it... then there could be an issue.
3.29.05 @ 9:53a
Right. Being a bitch as part of your personality is different than occassionally being in a bitchy mood.
3.29.05 @ 12:06p
That's what I was saying!
3.29.05 @ 1:46p
All flirting aside, I will probably end up in the Albertson's express line with Heather behind me for saying this, but...although the topic is a definate plus (we all love a nice bitch - adds spice to any gathering) there are a couple of things youse-guys don't seem concerned about:
Did anyone notice in the third paragraph that Heather "had" three sisters? Are condolences in order? Did one or all of them finally lose out in the WWF ring?
How about that paragraph with so many "its" that I wasn't sure what she was talking about by the time it (the paragraph, silly) ended?
And the icing for comments? In the first paragraph she is definately a bitch, but by the last few paragraphs even she isn't sure of her bitch-dom ["...you may never outwardly notice..."] If a bitch is walking alone in the woods with no people around to hear her bitch, then is she (or he) really a bitch?