Name: Squid

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
While I might possess some of the traits and attitudes typical of a Heartless Bitch, I'm male, and therefore probably not in a position to answer this question.

[If you read the site, you'd know the answer to this.]

I am interested in what you have to say though. I might become disinterested after I actually read it, but that's something I'll find out later, subject to approval.

[This isn't a department store, and there is no fitting room. Stow your ennui.]

Actually, It's rather difficult for a male to answer this question, I'm really only doing it now out of sheer bloody-mindedness.

[It's rather difficult for a bonehead to answer this question. Males and females who think sail right through.]

One Liner:
I've seen keys on keychains, and cars are usually attached to bumper stickers. Should I avoid using them?

[If you drive like you think, YES!]

Name: Squid

[One more time. I guess he thinks that approval is instananeous.]

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
While I might possess some of the traits and attitudes typical of a Heartless Bitch, I'm male, and therefore probably not in a position to answer this question. I am interested in what you have to say though. I might become disinterested after I actually read it, but that's something I'll find out later, pending approval.

[Blah, blah, blah.]

One Liner:
Shall I pursue this out of sheer bloody mindedness?

[No. Quit while you're ahead.]

Name: Alex

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
Sorry, I just came to talk
Sorry, I just came to talk
Sorry, I just came to talk
Sorry, I just came to talk

[When are you going to say something?]

One Liner:
.........mild?

[Couldn't be anything but bland.]

Name: Jezebelle

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
I'm simply irritated by those who get on this website expecting a gold fucking medal because they've been hurt by men before as if they are the only one, when really they're one of the only ones who aloud these disgusting excuses for human beings to so called ruin they're so called lives! CRY ME A FUCK'IN RIVER!!!!!!!!!!!

[If they actually "get on" this website, then they haven't done that.]

One Liner:
I was on my way to school (college) While the driver next to me appeared to be a fellow student (asshole) that I've told off many times due to his ignorance on picking up women (me)

[Oh, why don't you just say what you mean in the FIRST place.]

Anyhow he proceeded to look in my direction smileing sickly.I turned his direction with a unit on my face ,

[You had a dick on your face?]

He then says I know you want this dick . I laughed threw my head back and said If its not fourteen-charet

[Charet?]

gold and detachable I DON'T WANT IT!!!!

[Goldmember!]

Name: Jalyssa

[I thought you were Jezebelle. You sure sound a lot like her. That's the problem with arch-villans. They can have difficulty keeping their public identities straight.]

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
I'm simply irritated by those who get on this website expecting a gold fucking medal because they've been hurt by men before as if they are the only one, when really they're one of the only ones who aloud these disgusting excuses for human beings to so called ruin they're so called lives! CRY ME A FUCK'IN RIVER!!!!!!!!!!!

One Liner:
I was on my way to school (college) While the driver next to me appeared to be a fellow student (asshole) that I've told off many times due to his ignorance on picking up women (me) Anyhow he proceeded to look in my direction smileing sickly.I turned his direction with a unit on my face,

[You had a dick on your face? Where are you girls hanging out?]

He then says I know you want this dick . I laughed threw my head back and said If its not fourteen-charet gold and detachable I DON'T WANT IT!!!!

[A metal dildo has GOT to hurt.]

Name: bob

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
I am a man, and you are afraid

[Afraid of Bob? Bubba, yes. Bob, never.]

One Liner:
I am here

[Well, that's all relative. To me, you're THERE, and that's where your ass will stay.]

Name: Julia

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
Hello, my name is Julia and I am a bitch.

[Hi, Julia.]

I don't know why I'm a bitch; it could just be my nature (I'm generally unsympathetic towards others) or nurture (I don't think people adjust well to angry women). Mostly it's that I do not have a tolerance for laziness or incompetence, or people taking up too much of my time with nothing important to say. This is most people, in my opinion.

[Nothing worse than a Bitch without a Clue...maybe Adults still suffering Teen Angst.]

I would like to vent my frustrations to other bitches around the world, because I'm sick of the whiny crap I get from friends and coworkers who always tell me "let's just be friends and not

[Nothing doing. We're sick of you aimless irritated masses who want to bore us to death with your ravings.]

fight," and "you should really watch your temper" and "Julia is an arrogant, difficult, snot and she is too demanding and I don't want to work with her anymore" (I can show you a copy of the anonymous note left on my chair at work if you don't believe me).

[No, I have no problem at all believing that people don't want to work with you.]

One Liner:
Heart? What heart?

[Point?]

Name: Maire

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
Although there have been good strong women in my life, teachers, mentors and friends, there are just a few who I look up too (all 4ft 11 3/4 inches of me) as stalwarts to the calling and purpose of 'heartless bitches'. I was born under the star-sign Taurus and am full cow and not at all bull.

[Relevance factor = null.]

As a frustrated, passionate, feisty 12 year-old it was a man disguised as my father,

[It's Dad-man. He lurks in families and assumes the identities of the father on a temporary basis. What a lame-ass villian.]

who forced the family to face the truth. After losing to me in the usual Friday niter debate (it was the 13th and a full-moon), the father cursed me as the witch of the bitches of our beautiful family. I recognised that name-&-calling instantly as my destiny and without prejudice stepped up to the mark.

[Brat factor = FULL ON.]

All those years of HBing passed down by my mother and grandmother settled in its proper place. I admit I was young and it was tough at first, but the inevitable light of the dawn shone in that instant.

[Dawn comes to us all, try for awareness.]

In my late twenties I was essentially a clueless, hardworking heartless bitch who made it to the

[I thought something DAWNED on you.]

top in my field. This was due mostly to my no-nonsense heartless bitch of a mother who refused to allow my heart and brilliance to be contaminated by a no-thrills, dehumanising western patriarchal education system, which totally confused the princess-graduates at work who with their all too revealing qualifications and life-experience, gawped that you might not give a fuck about rising early to exfoliate, shave your legs, or moisturise the crows feet off your face every day.

[Banality = ON]

It also panicked the hell out of the "I yoga five hours a day" prize-princess, who spilling out of the ruffled, pin tucked breast-shirt, and tip-toeing in the pin-striped ten inches too short suit-skirt, recognises the true path to promotion is by coffee. Delivering it tray and all to the boardroom and striking up meaningful conversation with the old boys by blinking twice for trim-milk and bending low for sugar.

[Where do you talk about yourself in all this mess?]

There was a 'brief' (thank the mother) moment in my mid-thirties where all seemed right in the world - the first fortnight with my adopted child. (It was a totally righteous action bonding with my cousins FAS baby). And with the life-rhythm ticking I was willing to forget my disgust as a 6 year old for popping one out and raising it. The beautiful child - my latest teacher, is my brilliant obsession and I suggest most gracefully, that pain in birthing, pain in parenting - all the same.

[Waste someone ELSE'S time. Good on you, and all that, mate, but this isn't a place where you should ramble needlessly about the enlightenment of your soul.]

Seven months later when I realised the office decor didn't match the pram or the cot I quit working in my (so-called) field and sent Child to pre-school.

[Queen Irrelevant: if she went to school, what does matching the decor matter? WHAT DOES MATCHING THE DECOR MATTER ANYWAY?]

I set with full heart and stomach to network those other HB's. Okay I was already living with one (for 12 years and the first look told me so) and sure enough I only had to look as far as the bunch of disgruntled, crying over spilt milk males in the tribal corporate to locate the Queen HB close by.

[No, we are never, ever, EVER near anything like that. Maybe you found the Queen of Crybabies, or something.]

Predictably the prize-pricks set upon the Queen by sending in a dummy queen who 'twuely twuely' believed in world peace and had a fake MBA to prove it. The DQ was handed a silver tray readied with coffee that looked like cold-puke and DQ promptly delivered it to the boardroom. With their oh so tiny guns in pockets, limping to the 5th floor in their viagra-powered elevator the whiner-pricks knew their plan had backfired and Queen HB had not died but instead sacheted over to join other like-minded HBeings.

[I wonder if you got this rambling from your mother, too.]

Glad to say I'm now 40 and I crave the company of more like-minded bitches who despise the global rave about world peace and who righteously rant that the true focus is more likely which international consulting firm disguised as a multi-million dollar third world development organisation is hot pick for the next World Bank grant.

[40? It took you FORTY years to get your head out of your ass? Better late than never, I suppose.]

About a month ago I was searching the net for flagrant but fragrant network marketing exploits poised to commercially capitalize on the resources and plights (sorry) rights of indigenous peoples when I come across HBL.

[Who the fuck is HBL? I'd love to see that search string.]

Here I am…this is heartless bitch indigenous of Aotearoa. Otherwise known as New Zealand, named so by the Dutch, invaded by the Spanish, kulcha-ed by the French and colonised into the missionary position by the British.

[This reads much more like Doggy-style to me.]

One Liner:
Too much already - i've just finished my first novel.

[You should hire an editor.]

[The screaming Yahoo (et al) masses write in:]

Name: Elle

Email : youdonottakecertainthingsin2consideration@crybaby.com

UserID : fuckers

URL : www.no.com

[Ooh, she is mad at us.]

Reasons for being a Heartless Bitch:
Fuckers, I actually DO use yahoo mail!

[You and a few million other people.]

How rediculous of you to reject me because of that!

[How are you connecting to the internet? The library? Find a real ISP already. Many youngsters are resourceful enough to figure out an acceptable solution to this problem. If you can't, you wouldn't last long here, anyway.]

Oh well, I can know in my thoughts that I'm a heartless bitch without a website to prove me.

[Good for you. Now, shoo.]

One Liner:
You need to update your settings.

[We like them just fine.]

[And a few thought that taking it to the TOP would help them. Bwa ha ha.]

From: "ALST"

Subject: Register an email address?

Look, I m not gonna register my work mail address, you don t accept hotmail and I m not gonna buy another one.

[Another? Did you buy the work address? This is very simple. Give us an address for an ISP that actually does something about SPAMMERS, TROLLS, and other FREAKS, and we won't automatically kick you for your free-mail.

Yes, I KNOW that these services will pull your account if they get a complaint, but how hard it is to get another one from the SAME PROVIDER?]

That s my problem right?

[You got it, toots.]

True. But you say you want smart people no one smart would agree to giving out details of an email account they have to pay for or use in their work. Get back to me, I m interested to here what these bitches have to say?

[Smart people have faced this challenge and solved their own problem without whining about it.]

From: "Abby"

You mean to tell me that I can't apply to be a Heartless Bitch just because I have a Hotmail e-mail account? What kind of bullshit is that? I

[You connect to the internet SOMEHOW, don't you?]

don't know a lot about computers, but I'm pretty sure that Hotmail and the like are the most widely used kinds of e-mail out there.

[Well, we just don't accept EVERYONE who applies. This is why the bouncing is done manually.]

It says: "You have to use a REAL service-provider or company-based email address. If you don't have the virtual cojones to enter a REAL email address, you ain't Heartless Bitch material."

[I'll give you credit for actually reading that. So many don't.]

This IS my REAL e-mail address, and it is a completely acceptable and viable one at that.

[It's not acceptable to us. You provide an email address that holds you accountable for your actions (which means that you don't sign RIGHT BACK ON AND GET ANOTHER), and we'll consider your application.]

If you want me to PAY to get a different address, you can just kiss my ass. I work part time in a dead end job in a town with a completely stagnant job market and I can't afford my own damn rent, let alone a "real" e-mail address.

[Yet you have a computer. Whine, whine, whine. We have teens who can't get a job yet who have been able to comply with this. You've got more excuses than a hooker going to jail.]

And I'm sure I'm not alone in this, either. I think your site should

[No, there are hundreds of idiots like you.]

seriously reconsider being so stuck up about your e-mail allowances because you're going to get a large amount of snobby bitches instead of nice down to earth heartless ones.

[We screen out the crybabies who want something for nothing, and get applications from resourceful Bitches instead.]

Abby, one very unsatisfied HBI reader and potential applicant

[What am I, customer service? I care that you're disgruntled? You SHOULD be, only you're mad for the wrong reasons. Get a REAL job. Get two, if you need them. Stop wasting so much time on the internet if you can't afford your rent. Hock your computer until you start showing the ability to think. Now THAT's a public service announcement for your ass.]