I don't date because I have really, really bad taste in men. People who've known me for a while can confirm that I pick some real winners. Let's review a few of my past boyfriends, shall we?
There was the guy that I caught cheating on me. Twice. (I had to climb a tree to catch him that second time but it was totally worth it.)
There was the other guy who thought we should "breed" because he was tall and I was smart. (Smart enough to get the fuck outta there.)
Then there was the guy with the secret meth lab in his house. (No word of a lie, People.)
Oh, don't forget the guy that was writing bad checks at Foxwoods Casino. (He was hot. So, so very hot.)
I got mad skillz in the Man-Picking department.
It's safe to say that if a guy has any interest in me there is something inherently wrong with him. The trouble is that I don't know there's something horribly wrong with the guy until a year or two goes by so today I had a brilliant idea!
Date a felon!*
How's that for beating the Universe at its own game? See? I am smart.
In other news, I might have made a bad decision today...
* Don't worry, People. I'm not going to date a felon but odds of someone I date being convicted of a felony look to be about 50/50.
Somebody at work gave me Rabid Monkey Flu. Or Death. Maybe it's The Cancer. My skin hurts and I have a shooting pain in my left hip. It's hip cancer, I know it. No, I bet it's ass cancer and forever my family can talk about the relative that died of ass cancer in her hip. 'Cause that's how I roll. Ass cancer of the hip. Typical.
I almost made it a decade disease free and then this. This sickness. I'm not a good sick person, I cry a lot when I'm sick. I need love. And cuddles.
Who doesn't enjoy a good fever induced dream or two, right? Last night I dreamed that I found a bag of holiday flavor Dunkin' Donuts coffee inside an empty coffee bag like I'd hidden it just so I could surprise myself in some distant future and be like "Oh snap! Look at this awesome flavored Dunkin' Donuts coffee! It's from moi? Oh moi, I love you!"
Yes, please!
Then I had another dream in which my sister told me how good I look and it's amazing how I lost those last five pounds in just ten days. Thanks, Sis. You're looking good too.
Literally, in my dreams. Also, nice jeans.
Why can't real life be just like our dreams?
Ooooh, right. Because I also had a dream that every time I tried to breathe, my nostrils sealed shut and I was surrounded by a crowd of Southern women in their fifties wearing fluorescent '80s jogging suits saying things like... "Poor thing, look at her suffocating" and "Bless her heart, she's gasping" and "Look at her just floppin' around on the ground". Never once did it occur to me to breathe through my mouth.
Then there was that other dream where I was being chased around a creepy mansion by Sally Creatures and yelling for Beast Master to help me but he completely ignored me. Kinda realistic on that point.
Maybe it's okay that fever induced dreams stay dreams. I do want that coffee though.
Today rounds out my first full month of work... in an office. Every. Single. Day.
We're all having trouble adjusting.
This one has opted to start sleep-shitting instead of adjusting
I'm a consultant and my last gig was pretty sweet because I worked from home! In the consulting world it's rare to get a contract that allows you to work from home. I was spoiled. I got used to it. I forgot basic things about being in public. Like manners and pretending to care appropriate interaction with others so I made a list.
Things I have to remember now that I don't work from home...
Don't fart.
Don't crack my gum or blow bubbles. According to the lady in the cube in front of me, gum cracking makes people homicidal.
I'm very loud. I think these people are going to have to get used to it.
Other people don't eat five times a day. They only give me the stink eye because they're jealous.
Don't walk around the office barefoot because eiw.
Don't sit Indian style, especially when wearing a skirt.
Constantly getting up to stand at my desk or wander around the office appears to be something only weirdos do.
My coworkers will assume I'm doing lines in the bathroom because I drink about 60oz of water, coffee, and tea which means I will knock people down on my way to the bathroom every 30 minutes.
Seriously, don't fart.
And don't burp either.
Don't pick my nose or my ass.
People will roam the halls and streets with their heads up their asses phones and when they crash into me it will be my fault because I'm;
clumsy
lazy
an idiot
all of the above
Wear pants - all the time. No exceptions.
People will ask how my weekend was. Every day they will ask. They will ask on Monday, they will ask on Thursday. The only acceptable answer is "Good!" and then I must reciprocate by asking what they did this weekend and hiding how utterly painful this conversation is.
Beginning at 10am on Friday's people will want to know if I have BIG PLANS! this weekend. Acceptable answers are:
Nope, just relaxing.
Nothing much, just relaxing.
BASE JUMPING! yelled very loudly.
Unacceptable answers to the BIG PLANS! question are;
Stalker much?
Fuck off.
COW TIPPING! yelled very loudly
Stay tuned for stories of epic awkward and embarrassing moments. I've already been caught flexing in the bathroom mirror and face down, ass up under a conference table.
I'm so professional they're erecting a statue in my honor
I don't hate women. Women harbor a strong dislike for me, not the other way around.
I am a woman.
I find people of all genders to be annoying, not only women but most definitely people that squeal while jumping up and down.
I came across the video below on Upworthy today. I don't understand the women in this video at all. I cannot empathize with them and I spend a lot of time every day trying to empathize with people so I can practice not being a complete asshole. Point is, I've got this empathy thing down. It's not me, it's them.
Watch this:
What's the message here? Are college graduates ready to take on the world? No. They never are - because the world hits you in the face like a fucking sledge hammer. It doesn't matter if you're a man or a woman. Reality will cut a bitch.
Wait, maybe this is about being afraid? Afraid of what? Men have the same fears that these women are talking about. Men are afraid of failure too. Men are afraid of not fitting in too. I know men that are afraid of the weird man in their closet. See, it's not just me.
Why is that woman afraid to be a musician (aside from the broke, homeless, struggling artist thing)? Why is the other woman afraid to admit to being an Emmy award winning writer? Or a ballerina? When will I learn how to spell ballArina (thank you spell check for correcting my accent)?
Maybe it's because I'm not sweet or maybe it's because I'm not nice or maybe it's because I'm not beautiful that I have been told, all my life, that my biggest asset is my brain.
For as long as I can remember people have told me that I'm smart.
I'm intelligent.
I have a good head on my shoulders.
I have common sense.
And street smarts. (Is that the same as common sense?)
I'm a fucking genius.
My parents, my teachers, my siblings, my friends - they've always told me that I'm a natural born leader. And you know what? When I graduated college I never would have thought of myself as a leader. Because I was a kid and kids just graduating college don't know anything about themselves or what they want to be when they grow up. Because they are babies and have yet to experience the game of Life and all its joys.
Maybe the fact that I've always been told I'm smart and can be anything I want to be and everybody I know will still love me is why I don't understand why the women in that video are afraid of - what? What are they afraid of? I totally don't understand this video. Women are so fucking difficult.
Ladies, you are holding yourselves back! Get out there and go get what you want. It's 2013 for Christ's sake!
Women. Rule. The. Fucking. World.
Nothing would ever happen if we weren't getting shit done so stop letting The Man get you down. We're already doing everything you say you're afraid of. Come join us. We've been running the show since the dawn of time.
Grow a vagina and fucking fill it with Girl Power.
“Goodnight, Monkeys. We’re sleeping until 7 tomorrow.”
What They Hear
Boppo: “Lie on the stairs, guard the house, bark randomly, scare the shit out of everyone.”
Crazy: “Wake me up at 6:49 by whining. Do that barely audible, breathy whine that you do because it lets me know you care and I like it a lot”
Sidekick: “We’re sleeping until 8 but you should bitch slap me at precisely 12:37 with a paw so I know you’re in full REM sleep.”
Doodle: “We’re getting up at 2:14 to crap. I’ll need you to wake me up by scratching the walls and side of the bed while frantically running back and forth into the hallway. Then we’ll do it all again at 4:14.”
I have a horrible memory. Awful. I live in a bubble that is exactly this moment in time only. I dated a guy for seven years and I have no idea what color his eyes are. I’ll forget your name two seconds after you tell it to me even though I repeated it three times. If Beast Master disappeared and I had to describe him to the police all I’d come up with is “He has a very round head”.
When you have a memory like mine every day is full of suprises! Like when I order six items from Amazon and they’re all shipped separately and from different vendors. Last week I went to Amazon, pressed ‘Place Order’ and immediately forgot about it.
Two days later a packaged arrived and I thought that someone had sent me a gift. It was cereal. Close enough to a gift, I really like this cereal. The next day another box arrived and I thought that maybe my sister or mom loves had sent me a gift. They hadn’t and I honestly can’t remember what was in the box. Odds are on more cereal. That same day my Lucky Vitamin order arrived and even with their happy green logo printed on every side of the box I couldn’t remember why I’d placed an order with them or what was in it but I was hoping it wasn’t vitamins. It wasn’t, it was stuff for the dogs.
This week a teensy little box arrived from KV Vet Supply and I absolutely could not imagine what was in it or why someone would send me a gift from there. Nobody did. It was Boppo’s arthritis supplement.
Also arriving this week were two other packages. I don’t remember what was in them or where they came from but it's a little insane sad that no matter how many times this happens my first thought is "Yay! A present! For me!" Do you see how Amazon fucks with my head?
Every single time a box arrives Beast Master and I have this conversation;
Beast: Whadya get?
Me: I don’t know! Do you think someone sent me something?
Beast: Didn’t you just order stuff?
Me: I don’t know! Did I? What did I order? Wasn’t that, like, last month?
Beast: ... No, it was Monday. Open it.
Me: Squeee! You open it, I’m too excited!
Beast: I’m not opening it. You ordered it, you open it.
Me: Weeeee!I’mtooexcited!Maybeit’sagift!Maybesomebodylovesme! OPEN IT!
Beast: Sigh.
Every. Time.
Why he asked me to remind him about something is beyond me.
I spent a good bit of time quietly saying "Save whatever you IS working on" before deciding that Spell Check is just trying get me fired for stupidity.
