Smart Bitches Trashy Books | All of the romance, none of the bullshit.

Update!

Tony’s wife (or somebody alleging to be Tony’s wife) has responded with another comment defending Tony’s words. Clicky-click here to read her pearls of wisdom. This is really reassuring to all the people reading this thread, I’m sure. Only the catty bitches need fear becoming All That Junk, All that Junk Inside that Trunk (of Tony’s). You non-catty bitches have nothing to worry about! That is, until you SET TONY OFF.

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Ladies, please, take a moment to read the comment below that’s allegedly from Tony Catanzaro, cover model and abmaster, and subject of a thread discussing his recent appearance on The Big Idea.

Posted by: Tony Catanzaro
Email:
URL:
Location:

This is Tony Catanzaro!

To you “ladies” and I use the term loosely, who have nothing better to do than to trash people they dont even know, probably all look like fat disgusting hairy looking men! You are desperate and pathetic bitches that NEVER get laid and need to hide behind their computer to trash others because they cannot hack it in the real world!

People that have nothing better to do with their lives than to live on the computer and talk shit about people who actually have a life are the biggest, pathetic, degenerate losers on the face of this earth!

Its a real shame when people are so miserable in their own lives, that they have no heart nor compassion for others. Beauty begins on the inside, and you bitches dont know the first thing about what life is all about!

I would love nothing more than to throw you bitches in the trunk of my caddy and dump you in the weeds somewhere off the Belt Pkwy! But instead, I will pray for you.

When you wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, you see a pile of shit which is yourself!

I can already smell your skin burning from the hell that awaits you!

The IP address logged for this comment originated in Kentucky, and was the same as that logged for comments allegedly written by “Tina” who identified herself as his wife.

Given the dulcet and peaceful tone of this comment, I’d advise members of the bitchery to make sure the batteries in the stun gun are brand spankin’ new, and to have a Swiffer in reach to distract him should he come looking for any of us after he prays over our hairy-looking selves.

Candy and I are very dismayed that our secret is out: our hairy balls should have been more securely tucked in, but they are so massive, and so hairy. And, as Candy says, “Man, my favorite part is definitely how he disguises his so-barely-veiled-it’s-not-even-dressed-in-a-peekaboo-negligee threat with Instead, I’ll pray for you, YOU DISGUSTING HAIRY DEEP FRIED MEN. Also, dig how we’re “hairy looking,” and not actually hairy. I don’t know about you, Sarah, but I spend hours and hours every morning meticulously drawing extra hair onto my armpits, legs, chest, ass and back.”

Yes, it’s true. I have to go to the store and buy a new fine-point Sharpie marker. My drawn-on moustache is really starting to fade.

So, as a public service announcement, should you see a Caddy in Brooklyn with a really pissed of pair of Smart Bitches in the trunk, call the police. Or the paparazzi. Candy also suggests that somebody should find the poor guy more work so he has something better to do than demonstrating his lack of a forebrain to the public-at-large yet again.

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