Karma's a Wonderbitch

This blog was originally posted on Happier Endings on April 12, 2013.

I don't believe in karma. I used to, but then I watched evil people shit on good people and go about their lives untouched. Karma is supposed to hit you threefold, right? If that were the case, a lot of my enemies would come up with untimely baldness, tragic injuries, or dead. Instead they got promotions, extravagant gifts, nice apartments, devoted (and undeserved) lovers, and life is looking pretty good for them. So I decided, if needed, I'll just have to take karma into my own hands. If that involves a few misdemeanors, morally questionable behavior (temporarily, of course) or the occasional brawl, so be it.

Things that would normally go unsaid because I grit my teeth and thought, "Karma will take care of them," are now spoken. If a girl sleeps with my boyfriend, it has not been beneath me to find her boyfriend and sleep with him (if he's hot, of course). That one is doubly effective because it pisses her and my ex off at the same time. I never pass up an opportunity to be more efficient! I haven't slashed any tires as of yet, but that is not out of the realm of revenge possibilities. I've written many notes in lipstick and grease pens on windshields, however. Those are my usual go-to because I get to use my words and that shit is a royal pain in the ass to get off. I can be positively lethal with a keyboard and an internet connection. My creativity has no bounds.

My favorite sort of homemade karma is the kind that goes completely untraced. The kind that is perfectly executed and leaves the target reeling and thinking, "Why is this happening to me?!" I'll tell you why! It's because you fucked with the wrong broad. Or that broad's friends or family. (That usually renders a harsher punishment, actually.) I have a knack for plotting the perfect plan with the most ironic impact. Every once in awhile the universe helps out a little and I'm left laughing and thinking, "That couldn't have gone better if I'd planned it myself!" Which makes me think that what I'm doing isn't totally unwarranted after all.

I had a friend that was the target of a psycho ex-girlfriend. The psycho threw a bucket of paint all over her new car. I was instantly outraged and asked for her address. But she said she didn't want the bad karma, and refused. Shit, I'll handle her and not tell you about it if that's what it takes! Why would you protect your aggressor when you've got crazy friends in your back pocket? I am her bad karma. Let me do what I do best. My name is Karma.

And Karma is a wonderbitch!