The Truth Hurts Tuesday ~ Bitchless Gone Bad

Am I getting soft? Am I losing my edge? Seriously, I MUST be, because it's the only reason I can possibly think of for some crazy, bitch bride to write such a scathing email about fucking typos. No really, TYPOS... The ones I occasionally have on BB. I know, right? WHAT the fuck? Totally makes me think that perhaps I've been too nice these days if somebody thinks that it's okay to be such a petty little bitch. Well, my niceness is about to go away... 

Because you haven't seen me be mean yet, brideys. You've seen me be blunt, straightforward and honest, but mean for the sake of being mean? Yeah, that's just not the way I roll. You see, I actually have respect for what you are going through, brideys... I GET what you're going through. If wedding planning were easy, then I wouldn't have a job. And my goal? Well, my goal is to see all of you brideys do it better, do it nicer and do it without being a bitch. That's WHY I started Bitchless Bride. Personally, I like to see BB as proactive constructive criticism. And you know what? I wouldn't dish it if I couldn't take it. And, I can take constructive criticism. I can take tough advice. I can take the truth. But, what I can't take? Is nit picky bullshit.

Seriously, I am open to improvement, to receiving emails telling me that one of my links is dead or that I have a typo here and there, but this bitch? She had the audacity to connect a few typos on Bitchless Bride to my competency as a wedding planner. Really, bridey? C'mon, that's just fucking weak. I love Bitchless Bride, but this blog has never been and will never be a place where literaries come to discuss Dickens or Kafka, or to mark the pages with red pen because I ended a sentence with a fucking preposition. It's a place where hopefully brides and vendors alike come to laugh and learn, and leave with a smile and an education. That's all. No need to get deeper than that. No need play dirty or pull my hair. So you know what? Fuck you, bridey. Did I spell that right?

And the next time I have a typo, or my grammar isn't correct, please send me an email that has my back instead of stabbing me in it. Got it? I mean... Damn girl, I feel bad (or is it badly?) for your fiancé.

Photo Cred: SodaHead