A Rant

Dear Boss

You are crap. And I would tell you why, I have a whole list of reason to declare, but I also have shit luck, and as such one of the 3 people who read this blog would probably recognize you, the facility, figure out who I am and I, subsequently, would loose my job. And then I'd be even more broke than I am now and would not be able to hire a lawyer to represent me in a wrongful termination suite. You are very very lucky.

But know this, as I mentioned above you are most definitely crap. The runny kind. And everybody feels the same way I do.

Sincerely,
Your faithful employee

I'm Retarded

I can admit it. I've been dicking around this site for the past 30 mins updating my information, and every so often checking my profile to see how many times it's been viewed and getting all excited because it's up to 31...yeah..that was me the whole time. I didnt realize that every time I looked at my own profile it was counting that.

So I'm stupid. And trust me...it hurts.

Kate..apperently I'm writing just for you. We might as well be txting.

Things

Well...it's been quite the week. There was a coup at work. Results are mixed. I did not succeed in replacing the a for mentioned girl at work nor in taking her position. However Things I did accomplish: a awkward and unproductive phone conversation with my boss involving the co worker, a come to Jesus talk (again) with the coworker and actually reaching an understanding this time, I hope (in all seriousness, I really like this person as an actual person, it's just very very hard working with her-I'm not saying anything here I've not said to her face btw- and I really hope that this time our understanding will stick..I'd hate to have to kill her.)

In other News:

I managed to consume almost a whole box of Pepto Bismal chewable tablets and have here by seem to be managing my heartburn.
I went to a hippy retreat/black panther meeting over the weekend...will be blogging on that just as soon as I have time.
Got a goldfish on Sat...bonded with Cornelius by the time I got home by telling it my whole life's story...by Sunday the he was sickly and as I write this he is now teetering between life an death. I would like to say for the record that if something unfortunate happens to this fish..and by unfortunate I mean it dies...I'm going to be devastated. *insert awkward silence here*
I still am not tan...it has become my personal mission in life to become tan. I'm merely less white.

Random Txt...

This is a txt I sent out while at the Hippy compound on Sat to let everyone know I was still alive

"Ok thus far we have eaten all vegan fair and now we are resting for an hour until the bell chimes taking the opportunity to journal and reconnect before the next wrk shop begins...um it's a compound type place, I opted not to drink the KoolAid, and thank god hippies don't get violent."
... so yeah...I don't think there's really anything left to say after that.

An uber secret, Heart Burn, and random txt's

I don't "blog" in the typical sense. I usually wait until something exciting happens (which doesn't take long) and then form a prolific essay type blog that gets posted to my myspace (and now this glorious site-that I hope has spell check and it does..yesss). Then I wait for the 7 people who follow my blog to read it and comment on it thusley validating myself while building my self esteem. However, I have decided that I'm going to try a different approach. I'm going to try giving high lites of my days because honestly they are pretty f'ing random and saving the the essay type blogs for the really big and crazy stuff that seems to happen on a pretty regular bases. So here we go

First...I have a HUGE OUTSTANDING secret, which unfortunately I can't tell you. But trust me, it is wondrous glorious news that is killing me, KILLING me to not be able to tell EVERYBODY. To the person that this secret is in relation to...you know who you are (we just confirmed id by the top secret virtual handshake) I love you, and I call first dibs.

Second...I don't know why this would be of any particular interest to anybody other than myself but I have heart burn. Concern. I don't get it very often. Observation- I think that one of the girls I work with is giving me an ulcer. Note to self, plan a office coup coordinated via the inter office mail system to remove her from her position and subsequently take it over.

Third...I don't know why but these are just two of the txt msg's i sent out today and in retrospect are note worthy.

"I failed to mention earlier this evening that while at work i accomplished a small miracle I made the perfect cup of ramen noodles using only a Styrofoam cup a microwave and my wits a feat that i hope i will be able to duplicate on a regular bases and until moments ago was unsurpassable, yes i say moments as i have discovered the perfect peanut butter to jelly ratio hereby creating the perfect Pb and j sandwich *insert look of humble assent* I know, i know. I am obviously outstanding"-from me to everybody in my phone book

"So..the Muslim courier is telling us about the time her husband paid a hooker in Manhattan 25 cents to stick his fingers in her front butt..and I've decided for my bday i want an Elvis impersonator/stripper"- sent to a select few people

I have quite the life.

Congratulations! You're a Woman!!!

　

At the age of 27 I can count on one hand the few times I’ve had my period. This is due to suffering from a very common affliction that a surprising number of women have, one out of three to be exact. Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome, or simply PCOS. A mostly unpleasant syndrome involving hormones, insulin and my uterus; there is nothing life threatening about PCOS, and other than for some unfortunate side effects it’s mostly just a minor inconvenience. One such “side effect” would be, that unless I’m taking birth control and my sugar pill, my body will not ovulate and will not shed the uterine wall lining. I’ll translate. No period. Ever.

I decided, why I’m don’t really know, to get healthy and improve my over all quality of life. Thusly I quit smoking, joined a gym, started watching my diet and am getting divorced. Since I was making obvious and drastic changes and reductions to my life for some reason or another I decided to start taking my medication. And exactly 28 days later started what I’m here after referring to as hell week.

It started very slowly. First was the initial onset of PMS, or premenstrual syndrome. From my research and experience with the girls at work, this varies. Some women start pms’ing a week or so before, others during the week of. Some (lucky bitches…yeah I went there) not at all. Mine started about 6 days prior to my white pills. I watched my hormones take over my body with an almost morbid fascination. First I was irritable and cranky. Everything was an annoyance sent by the devil to torment me. Then there was a bout of melodramatic over reaction and exaggeration to small occurrences. Then came the feeling’s. All of a sudden I had feelings on just about everything and those seemed to be sadness, despondency and a overall feeling of general morose. My body decided that the only way to deal with said feelings was to cry about it. All the time. Over everything….everything.

Then came the eating. Primarily chocolate. I didn’t understand. Under normal circumstances I’m not a fan of it unless it’s covering peanut butter or something salty. But anything sweet, chocolaty or just generally fattening went into my mouth. Then, then came this other…feeling. I got horny. A lot. All the time. In almost a constant state of arousal, I went through a hole pack of batteries, discovered 2 new free porn sites online, and probably scared the bejesus out of my gym bitch….mostly regarding his brother. Obviously, after 27 years of virtually never going through this, it was a traumatic and emotionally scaring week….for me as well as everybody else.

I decided that when the period actually started, I would be ready. I went online and looked at graphs and pictures so that I would know exactly what was happening to my body each step of the way. I polled my friends, bought a box of tampons and pads. Had designated 7 sets of panties specifically for my time of the month. And then I waited. I wasn‘t disappointed. Two days into my white pills I started cramping and bloating. The cramps, oh my god the cramps. There are not words to describe the constant pain of having an organ squeeze itself. Like my uterus was giving itself a hug, constantly. Then my back. Back and forth. My stomach and my back. A constant dull ache that rolls over you. (Ironically the only thing that really helped was Midol and masturbation. Life is funny that way sometimes) Still I waited. Day 3 into my white pills. Nothing. Day 4, nothing. Thinking I might have possibly dodged a bullet, I went to bed. However, I woke up the afternoon of day 5 in silent horror wondering where the horse head was. It. Was. Everywhere. Hell yes I panicked. And of course, since my body the week prior had already decided how we were handling anything that happened to me, I cried.

I spent most of day 5 in disgusted horror at what my body was discharging. And after one awkward phone call from my best friend explaining to me the logistical application of the tampon and coming to terms with my gross immaturity, I decided I wanted nothing more to do with any of this. Ever. I still feel that way, even now, on the afternoon of day six. I have come to several conclusions. First, there is nothing natural about bleeding for 7 days; second, of all the places that this could be excreted from, why it has to come from my front butt is beyond me. Thirdly, I don’t feel more of a woman for having suffered through it. And fourthly, I can say, that there is absolutely nothing that makes going through this worth it. Save for confirming I’m not pregnant. But unless it’s an immaculate conception, I’m not even given that small respite.

However, it is over. Well not over, but it will be soon. And hopefully my life and my body will gradually return to normal. I feel better prepared next month for what will happen. I will make some small changes in my coping plan, be a little better prepared and at the very least, the instructional video for tampon insertion wont be necessary. Thanks any way Allison.

On the Subject of Soulmates...

Soul Mates

I am not a romantic. Not in the sense that most people think of when they describe someone as such. I do not want a trail of rose petals strewn across the floor, leading the way to a candle lit bedroom. Somebody has to clean all that crap up. Romance to me is the practical things that show that my significant other is expressing an interest in my life, essentially that they are paying attention. Do a chore I hate, put brake pads on my car, rub my feet, and most importantly, it’s not how much you spent on the card, its what you took the time to write inside of it. My weakness, however, is flowers. Those I absolutely adore, other than that things of a practical nature appeal to me. However, there is one romantic notion that I cling to, with an almost reverent desperation, and that would be the idea of soul mates. Something I just so happened to have a conversation about this evening, at the gym of all places, (sigh…please see former blog).
The idea of soul mates is nothing new. Of all the descriptions and ideas though of what a soul mate actually is, I’ve always found something in Plato’s description that appealed to me the most. He describes in his Symposium how, originally men had four arms, legs and a head consisting of two faces. Zeus, fearing the men split them, and condemned them to wander the earth forever searching for their other half. Poignant no? I find it ironic that, even now, it is mostly fear that will divide two people, fear of making the wrong decision, of making the right one, of the unknown. And thus we search, for our other half, knowing that when our search is complete will have nothing to fear. But I digress.
My concept of soul mates, I’m sure, is unoriginal and most likely trite and clichéd. But, it gives me hope; personaly I don’t think that God has condemned us to life with the possibility of one chance. One chance of finding “true love”, one chance of being the world to someone, and vice versa. Nor do I think they are gender specific and limited to relationships of a romantic nature. In fact, I have 2 actively in my life right now…Allison and Kate. A friendship that as corny and hokey as it sounds transcends Mr. Webster’s definition. I can not imagine them not in my life, and I am a better person for knowing them. They enhance me, they bring out all the best qualities in me, put up with the worst and for that there is never a time that I hope that I can not share the best and worst aspects of my life with them. For the sake of this blog, I will mention I’m sure that once, a very long time ago I had in my life a soul mate in the truer sense of the word; though, it is not my wish to dwell to deeply on the memories, but let is suffice to say that the years I had him in my life where some of the best, and never, thus far, has anyone made me as happy, gotten me more completely or hurt me as deeply as he did. But, as is the nature of these things, he too was lost. And now I am alone. And waiting, for when the time is right with much hope and a careful eagerness of what the future will bring.
At the risk of sound narcissistic, I know that I am to outstanding of a woman and have to much to offer the right person to spend the rest of my life alone, because I’m lucky enough to have realized a while ago something that I wish more people would. That although I am convinced that there is a soul mate some where out there made just for me, someone that I am searching for, be it actively or no, I am someone’s soul mate too, that there is someone out there, searching for me…..and what a lucky bastard he will be.

Relationship Urban Legend #32

Relationship Urban Legend # 32

Prince Charming will rescue the damsel in distress…As long as her credit score is over 700.

Once upon a time, it was 3 am and a very tired, young, strikingly beautiful woman was waiting tables in a half empty truck stop. As she was refilling Mr. Charming’s coffee cup (Mr. C is incredibly good looking, tall, no children, never been married, obviously financially stable, emotionally available, educated, disease free, has a sense of humor and is endowed with a large penis. His limo blew a tire and he was waiting for it to be patched before moving on to the airport where his private jet was waiting to take him to Aspen) Mr. C was taking in her exceptional beauty and wondered to himself what she was doing working in a place like this. She looked over her shoulder with concern towards the kitchen where the cook was teaching her three young children how to read and wondered if he will leave enough of a tip so she can buy the kids’ breakfast, especially little Jonny, who although crippled with MS and is slightly autistic, never complains. As she fills his coffee cup, they make small talk and soon realize that although they come from two different worlds, they have everything in common and fall madly in love with each other. As his limo driver walks through the door to tell him they are ready to go, Mr. C decides then and there that he has to marry this women and spend the rest of his life making her happy. He whisks her and the 3 small children up in his arms (his driver gets Jonny’s wheelchair) and they are off to his plane to Aspen to get married. They live happily ever after. The End.

There are two things that one might deduce from this scenario. First, it is the basic plot foundation to every Lifetime movie…ever, and second, it’s complete and utter horse cockery, mostly because the man in the story doesn’t exist (obviously a work of fiction, what man has a large penis and is emotionally available?)But basically it’s because men don’t want to date/marry women who don’t have their shit together. And honestly, can you blame them?

I’ve noticed that most women have standards but they are usually regarding the living situation, the car the man drives, or his employment history, not necessarily how she expects to be treated in a relationship. Yet I notice a distinctive trend in the over reaction if the man in the relationship has certain financial or educational expectations as well. It is apparently too much for them to ask that we be able to balance a check book, pay our bills, and read above a fifth grade level. How dare they? Essentially this belief that there is a knight in a shiny 401k that is coming to scoop us up, whisk us away to his townhouse in a suburb of D.C., and live happily ever after is the result of a false sense of entitlement and accountability issues. Not to mention the myth that Prince Charming is somewhere out there is perpetuated along because we all know somebody who knew somebody that this happened to. And for the most part, it probably did. However for most people, they will never be able to see past the man that saved the woman, and wonder why or how. All they will ever be able to see is the saving.

I have only ever known one person that lived this particular urban myth. She was the twin sister of a friend of my mothers. She had a child with disabilities, worked 2 jobs, struggled to make ends meet for a very long time, and then one day met the man of her dreams. He took care of her, and unfortunately when he died, he left her in a financial position so that she would never have to worry about work again. But like I said, most women never see anything past the man of her dreams sentence. We tend to forget that life requires us to pay certain dues. This particular woman struggled for a very long time before she got what she deserved. And essentially, I think that is what this relationship urban legend is all about - that people get what they deserve.

The common theme seems to be that men, nowadays, want an activity partner who has a job, a vehicle and some small amount of education. Basically, they want a women who has her shit together. Because the woman who does is a strong independent super hottie (kind of like the person reading this), who in the very act of knowing she can take care of herself financially (she’s not scared to work two jobs, tighten the belt straps or live off ramen noodles when times get hard) oozes a type of self- confidences that is more potent than Spanish fly. It tells the man in her life that she doesn’t need to be taken care of and thusly will make the man much more likely to want to do it. And that desire to want to be there for each other, whether it’s emotionally or financially, is a core in the foundation to any good relationship.