Is Heidi Cruz a Bitch?

Is Heidi Cruz a Bitch?  Babs has compiled some resources to help you to understand what's behind Heidi's resting bitch face.

 

"Ted Cruz's Wife Heidi has MAJOR Bitchface."

"Who is Heidi Cruz?"
 

"Is Heidi Cruz a little Strange? "

"Awkward Moments in American Journalism starring Dana Bash and Heidi Cruz"

Resting Bitchy Face is REAL

Resting Bitchy Face is Real

I'm here to tell you Mary Poppins is a BITCH

The REAL Mary Poppins as described by author P. L. Travers

The real Mary Poppins is a drunk, abusive, vain, bitch.  How do I know?  It takes one to know one, and, I just finished the book.  I was gobsmacked to discover Mary Poppins isn't the perky, pretty, sickly sweet,  "practically perfect" in every way savior to the unhappy Banks Family that Walt Disney spun into copyright and movie-making history.

Readers, she's a "See You Next Tuesday" know-it-all, gossiping, KVETCH. 

So before you go see "Saving Mr. Banks," please read the evidence below taken directly from the book to support my thesis.  Better yet, read the book yourself.

Drunk:  "Mary Poppins then poured out another dose and solemnly took it herself.  'Rum punch,' she said, smacking her lips and corking the bottle."  Note:  This is while she was on the job.  p. 13.

--Fondly, 
Babs

Happy New Year

Yup, that's my resolution for 2014. 

To follow Babs please visit: http://miamiibitch.blogspot.com/

Maybe we shouldn't have skipped the "getting to know you" part...

...then I would've known you didn't like girls.

Please join me in celebrating the 6th Anniversary of my Fang divorce by singing along with the jolly song below. 

All Hail Madge!!

It's been too long since I fell on my ass...

Babs is working it this morning channeling Sheena Easton strutting her stuff up to the Metro platform.

Inner dialogue goes something like this... "Clown paint?  check. Hair bumped? check. Rockin' behind the super dark Jackie O's? check. Lacy coffin gloves? check.  You know what skinny bitch?...this Miami gig just might work out cuz there ain't no place in the contiguous US that you could rock this ghetto-fab leopard print coat and nary raise an eyebrow. You could be sportin' a pith helmet, a boa, have purple hair, an 'I Dream of Jeanie' harem ensemble, and nobody would even do a double take...hey maybe this is where you belong?..."

Then... "ouch, kerplunk" I have once again very publicly fallen, while taking a short cut to the train, cuz... guess what? I'm running late... Meanwhile nary a Miamian offers to assist this damn damsel in distress, or enquire as to my well being as they continue to walk over or sidestep me enroute to the Metro. Dust myself off, assess the damage.

"Waaah I want my mother... oh right she's dead." Inner dialogue resumes.. "Where was I? Oh, indeed.. I think this is where I belong."

The Bosses!!