Burning Ring of Fire?

                Welcome to The Study of the Common Bitch: A Journey into the Realm of Females at AACC.  I will preface this post with a disclaimer of sorts. I came up with this blog after I woke up one morning with a very much, “fuck it” attitude. Due to the events, one of which will be covered in this particular entry, I lost my damn mind and decided that I had to keep record of the ridiculous things I have seen or heard while attending AACC. This is in no means an attack on any person, place, or thing mentioned in this blog. I will never name names, call people out or put in descriptors that will single a person out. IF you came across this and recognize the story as one you were part of…well I am sorry for you.

                This will have a huge air of satire to it, but let me be honest when I say, this shit happened. It happens every day and I am here to enlighten your life. I will pick on men as well in this blog, but I will “attack” women a bit more as I myself, am female and have a more personal first-hand account into some of the things here. With that being said and my disclaimer waived in your face, let us begin.

                Hello, I am Volatile Aeon and today on The Study of the Common Bitch, we will take a look into the world of the AACC women’s bathrooms. As anyone has heard, seen or been around a women’s bathroom many have heard horror stories about how disgusting women are. Today, we affirm this thought process with a quick glimpse at both early morning ritual and evening ritual of a female student. Our first prey is that of a tall, thin build female with a very annoying giggle. It’s 7:30 A.M, Main Campus, Careers building. We’re going to take a look into the first floor women’s bathroom, the one at the far back, by service Elevator 3. Taking a look inside it appears to be empty, good, now is the time to sit in here and dick around ignoring the fact I should be in math class not sitting here playing with my Necomimi ears.

                Suddenly, a wild woman appears, she must be in distress as she is running into the stall next to me feverishly. I grow tense, silent. I do not know if I make it known I am here, what kind of attack I will suffer. However, it is quickly apparent, that even alone the attack is already underway. After a few moments of noises I cannot even fathom coming from a human being, I hear the familiar sound of talking on a cell phone. The conversation is short, quick, and horrifying. I hold my breath as she gives description to where her location is before uttering the words, “I now understand that song, “Burning Ring of Fire.” I stifle my snort as she herself begins laughing uncontrollably. I do not know if her sphincter fire is the cause or the laughter but whatever it was, it was shaking my stall. I am horrified as I hear a flush. The main door opens and as I lean to peer out of the crack in the stall, I see the person from the phone has entered. No hands are being washed as they continue talking about trivial things.

                How their teacher is a bitch, how they are ditching class and about the song reference, it is now a photo shoot. I still don’t understand the reasoning behind taking pictures in a mirror in the bathroom (or better yet how I've yet to die, the smell is quite ripe) but as they leave and I emerge, I quickly wash my hands (and face as I took forever to get out of bed this morning, myself running late) and decide I want to understand and take a photo of myself as well. This is ridiculous. I leave and go back to class, forty five minutes later.

                 The rest of my trek through the campus this day has yet to yield anything worthwhile. A young brunette slipped on her heals, a young woman ran into a door because her male counterpart slammed it on her, another screamed when my ears moved. Rather uneventful, that was until it was brought to my attention that far away from the main campus, that the Arundel Mills Campus was under siege as well.  It apparently is the time for ‘rings of fire’, in the women’s bathrooms as a friend posted the following pictures. I warn you, they are gross, but typical. Apparently, some female miles away decided her sphincter needed to be on fire as well. Though, unlike the female I saw today, this one completely missed everything except apparently the floor…all of the floor. Apparently there was a trail of blood and then this:

The carnage was so bad they had to do this:

 It's hard to tell just what the fuck happened up in there, it could have been explosive bowels, it could have been a raging period, my personal assumption is this is the start of a dumpster baby gone wrong. The body has yet to be found.

Bitches, I tell ya. Gross ass trifling bitches. 

That is all for today's Study of the Common Bitch. Tune in next time, I am certain it will be retarded.