Attention Whore Of The Month

Chateau Heartiste introduced Beta of the Month, Alpha of the Month, and Hamster of the Month. Now we premiere a new contest called Attention Whore of the Month (AWOTM), where you, the readers, get to vote for the most repugnant woman who lives for that dopaminergic rush of ego-assuaging attention from an audience of admirers or, if admirers are hard to come by, of haters who will at least make her feel like the queen of turd world.

Our first AWOTM candidate is Lacey Spears, a “mommy blogger” who is being investigated for poisoning her five-year-old son for sympathy feels from fat, bored housewives.

my eyes are portals to hell

Mommy bloggers are a blight on the internet. The half that aren’t crazy are so crippled by looking at life through a platitude lens that they may as well be a metaphorical mind poison that subversively distances women from their children and husbands.

Of course, a mommy blogger with Munchhausen syndrome by proxy is an especially potent form of attention whore, similar to how a paper clip counting and open borders cheerleading autistic is a severe manifestation of an anti-social personality. Some would wonder whether it’s fair to include such a diseased monster in the AWOTM running, but I would counter that all attention whores of whatever degree of expression reside along a spectrum of ego-gluttonous femaleness that concludes at the far right tail with those under the influence of a pathological agent that amplifies their natural predilection for attention. It’s basically impossible to find a woman who doesn’t indulge in the occasional attention whoring; the trick is to screen out the chronic hamsterbators who have trouble making it through a day without creating a Drudge-worthy spectacle of themselves.

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AWOTM candidate #2 is an actress *snort* named Emily Letts (let’s just talk about MEMEME, mmkay?) who had her abortion filmed and uploaded to YouTube for god only knows how many views it would have taken to make her feel like her life was more meaningful than serving as an HPV chamber for a parade of pump and dumps. She summoned a tremendous hamster circus reservoir of strength and courage to leave the following message:

This is my story. This is ONLY my story. I do not pretend that it is anything more or anything less. I do not speak for everyone on this sensitive subject and I respect everyone’s opinions as long as they do not force them onto others.

Psycholicious feminist attention whores have a habit of contradicting themselves within the span of two sentences.

My dearest hope is that someone somewhere will see this and it will provide some guidance, strength, support, or whatever else they need in that moment. I want to tell that person that you are not alone. Having an abortion does not make you a bad person, a bad woman, a bad mother. Having an abortion does not make you guilty. It is simply one step in your reproductive story. You are not along. I am here for you. We are all here for you.

Translation: I feel really weird and unfabulous and frighteningly alone about this abortion, so if I just put up a coyly unpornographic video of it along with feels appeals and self-exonerating pabulum repeated ad nauseam, I can return to imagining myself the brave and beautiful and empowered ass-kicking PocaMulaLisbeth heroine I was born to be.

But why such a tease, m’lady? Pan down and whore out the gory details! What’s stopping you?

PLEASE PLEASE SHARE THIS VIDEO. Please help me spread it to all corners of the internet. 1 in 3 women will have or have had an abortion in their reproductive life. This video is for all of us.

If by “all of us” she means her galactically vast yet curiously barren ego that must swallow planets whole to survive.

I found out I was pregnant in November. I had been working at the clinic for about a year. It was my first pregnancy, and, full disclosure, I hadn’t been using any kind of birth control, which is crazy, I know. I’m a sex educator, and I love talking about birth control.

An intoxicatingly aloof alpha made her an offer she couldn’t resist.

Before this experience, hormonal birth control scared me because of complications I’d heard about from friends — gaining weight, depression, etc.

She had to stay slender for the boys she likes. Attention whores may live by the platitude, but their actions betray an intimate understanding of the unforgiving mechanics of the sexual market.

So I tracked my ovulation cycle, and I didn’t have any long-term partners.

Cock goes up, poon goes down
urban slut, got to go round
talkin’ ’bout your troubles, it’s an ego win
ride a raw dog cocka
let the carousel spin
[brass interlude]

I thought I was OK. But, you know, things happen.

“Mistakes were made.”
– the amazing disappearing female agency

Once I caught my breath, I knew immediately I was going to have an abortion. I knew I wasn’t ready to take care of a child.

The guy wasn’t involved in my decision.

He bolted. *swoon*

I called my supervisor and said, “Excuse me, I am going to need to schedule one abortion, please.” It was very early in the pregnancy, only two to three weeks.

Patients at the clinic always ask me if I can relate to them — have I had an abortion? Do I have kids? I was so used to saying, “I’ve never had an abortion but…” While I was pregnant and waiting for my procedure, I thought, “Wait a minute, I have to use this.”

Of course she had to use it. Where would the world be without her story, her tribulation, her endless infantile need for external validation?

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AWOTM candidate #3 is an exceptionally tacky contributor to a website that documented the phenomenon of “mommy selfies“. (Where the hell are the husbands in these families? Did they abdicate their duty as primary authority entirely?)

thanks for teaching me how to pimp, mom

The internet has allowed the upper classes to see the lower classes in all their ignominy. Kind of a nation-scale “Scared Straight” program.

For tits and wiggles, here are a couple more of these class acts:

for some reason, i will be shocked when you grow up to become a paint-huffing whore

Middle finger? Check. Mulatto womb effluvium? Check. “Ow, my balls!” TV show in background? Not yet, but soon.

hold on dear, your vulva is showing. lemme fix that.

Nothing says fat, headcase mom like vicarious whoring through your daughter.

The selection of these three attention whore candidates is a very fitting pastiche of the state of Western Civ. Two vile lifeeaters sacrificing their children’s lives — one post-born, the other pre-born — at the altar of their grotesquely misshapen desire to be loved and fawned over. One desperately needy mom sacrificing her child’s psychological health for eyeballs and erections. All sacrifices apparently well worth the banal sludge of an adoring crowd filling their empty soulholes.

Cast your vote like you were casting these attention whores to the frozen wastelands to die alone, a punishment suited to the crime.

We’ve moved well past the annoying bar slut dancing on a table phase of Attention Whore America to depths of female ego gratification that would make the devil blush. Mass whoring technology has apparently brought out the worst in American women.

*Since this is a game blog, I figured I’d slip you a quickie on how to game these three succubi.

1. “I don’t normally date single moms, but you seem like your kid isn’t your whole world.”
2. “Guess I won’t need a condom.”
3. “That’s cool that you hired your kid as a dating coach.”