Saw this story in my Twitter feed and didn’t realize it was an Onion article because, well, it’s either going to be my autobiography title or my epitaph!
Report: Women Increasingly Choosing Dead-End Careers Over Dead-End Relationships
“Every year, millions of educated females discover that they can be just as underappreciated and ignored in the workplace as they can while doting on loutish and inattentive boyfriends.”
Full story online here.
Oh I swear to God, for a “day off,” I’m freaking exhausted!
It started at 8 a.m. with people who know better than to ask me for stuff at that hour, well, asked me for stuff. It was fine. Really.
9 a.m. arrived and I started on a new project. Chaos only partially ensued. Life was good.
9:45 arrived and of course the 8 a.m. project was augmented with a, “Hey, you decide how to do it.” And well, that wasn’t a decision I should have made. So I made the decision in which everyone wins.
10:30 a.m. arrived with a “Why didn’t you make the decision I wanted you to make?” I had my reasons and stated them. All was well. Once again, everyone won.
2 p.m. arrived. Lunch! Outdoors! At Cosi! Nom nom nom, viva la salade nicoise. Seriously. Good stuff. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a lunch hour? (Hint, I’ve had one a year for three years.)
2:30 p.m. Hmm, there’s a movie playing at the cinema down the street. …
2:35 p.m. Bought the only ticket to the 2:35 showing of “Made of Honor.” I laughed, I cried, I arched my eyebrow at the formulaic-ness of it all and cried some more because, oh Hannah, I feel ya.
4 p.m. Wandered up the street for hot tea and dessert plus a one-on-one session with the laptop. Here’s the deal — my e-mail address was disconnected last night. AND THERE WAS STUFF IN THAT FUCKING ACCOUNT THAT I FORGOT TO READ/FORWARD that I would need for today, as today is a transition day and all.
*headslam*
So I was able to call up the one document that was most urgent on my iPhone. Now, as it was a Word doc, I couldn’t save it or send it to a different e-mail account. But I could prop the phone up against my laptop screen and type the four-page tome verbatim, hyperlinks and all.
OK, it’s 6 p.m. and I’m calling shenanigans. I’m actually sitting catty-corner from the condo where one of my ill-fated attempts at romance lives, and I’d like to get the hell out of here before he decides he needs to walk or drive by. I was looking all right until I cried off all my makeup, so it’s time to vamoose with what little sanity I still have left intact. *poof!*
Editor’s note: Wow, I’ve never had occasion to quote a Prince song before. And certainly not that one!
I don’t think it’s much of a secret that I hate being a pet owner, mostly because of the regular poop grenades that get lobbed around my carpeted areas. But really, I do love my girls, particularly my 12-year-old Calico, Maddie, who’s been my best friend since I was 22.
I took the cats to the vet on Saturday for shots and the vet asked if I’d be game for a geriatric workup on Miss Molly (one of my 40 other names for her). I said sure — what’s another $100 when you’ve already got me on my knees, bent over and accepting a half-shaft already?
What I didn’t expect was the call on Monday to tell me all the medicines I’d now be ordering and the conditions we’d be treating. And then the visit yesterday for chest X-rays and blah blah blah surgery this radioactive iodine that hey come back in three weeks for a follow-up mmkay two thousand dollars *eekeekeek*.
*headslam*
So I write all of this as a setup to yesterday’s visit. I dropped Maddie off at the vet and when they took her from me, she started crying. This isn’t a vocal cat. She purrs a lot but Kadie’s the whiny one. So when Maddie is protesting, well, it breaks my little heart.
I mentioned to one of my friends yesterday that, “If I were handing over a human …” and oh God, I am SUCH a girl. *swallowing past throat lump* However will I take a kid to daycare?
Anyway, I left work at a reasonable hour to go pick up my frightened little kitty. And in the waiting room was this bellowing pig of a woman who was, well, bellowing. Incidentally, we’d gone to see the circus on Sunday and it was called — ha ha — “Bellobration.” Bellow-licious!
So this woman was just SCREAMING. And why? Because she was in the wrong. Because she brought in a cat and had LIED about it having its shots. Because they can’t treat/board animals that are not up-to-date on their vaccinations.
She had brought in a cat because his fur was all matted … as she was screaming, “It’s matted around his PENIS and he PEES through his FUR.”
Oh gawd. I was so sick just listening to her holler — I was hoping the kennel where they housed my sweet, loving, quiet, ‘fraidy cat was soundproof, as I was ready to climb the curtains myself.
To make matters worse, she had a little boy, probably about 2, who was tearing up the waiting room. I mean, taking plastic brochure holders and throwing them up in the air, creating a majestic airborne display of advertisements for pet insurance. He was screaming because his mom was screaming, so she was screaming at HIM to stop screaming. (Oh, my aching head.)
My vet, to his credit, never raised his voice, although he looked absolutely exhausted. He took me into the next room to look at Maddie’s X-rays while the loudmouth complained about having to pay $25 a night to have her cat boarded and that she has a husband in bed with a herniated disc and she gets off work at 3:30 and doesn’t want to have to pay for two days blah blah blah *stabstabstab*.
There are signs in the lobby to please restrain pets at all times. I volunteered to the vet to write “and small children” on the sign. He joked that, well, the sign DOES say to keep small animals in cages. 😉
I like him already!
I think Maddie’s going to be fine. I mean, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us but I feel like I’m in good hands. I also think the vet enjoyed me, because I asked questions and hung around and talked stocks with him — anything I can do to ensure Maddie gets good treatment, well, count me in.
But, and I say this all the time — after hearing that this bellowing mess of a woman has a husband at home in bed, well, I gotta say it. How did SHE get a man?!?!
This is the only possible way I can spin this clusterfuck of a day.
Gemini horoscope:
You might feel as if you are juggling ten plates at once, dawn. Hopefully, you have everything under control because about five more are going to be tossed your way. To make it even more fun, you’ll be asked to stand on just one foot. Challenges present themselves when you are ready to handle them. Be flattered when someone offers to toss you yet another plate. This shows that people are confident in your abilities.
Failing that? Film at 11. …
At some point today, I declared I was going to be sprung out of my little hole during daylight hours. The cheers that erupted from various Twitterfriends was encouraging. And then, at 10 p.m., I came home. *sigh*
The worst part of it is not that I didn’t finish my work (and what I did finish, well, sucked), but that a certain Calico cat took a big, steaming, bloody dump in the middle of my eggshell-colored duvet cover. I just washed that thing this past weekend, too.
I noticed that my bedroom had an eau de barnyard scent about it right away — thank God I figured it out before I absentmindedly tossed my purse on the bed, as is my habit. And the poo pile, of course, permeated the duvet itself. Mmm, yummy.
I always tell my mom that she’s getting custody of my tuxedo cat (those two are best friends — good for them). Today, I declared she’s getting both of ’em.
In other news, a friend texted me that he was rushed to the emergency room with chest pains but needed to know who got booted off of “Idol.” Ha. I’m assuming the condition isn’t THAT serious, because knowing the outcome of the show (which I missed — I turned it off at 9:58) wouldn’t exactly be on my bucket list. *prayers for my friend*
All right, so someone had a worse evening than me. I can stop complaining now. 😉
Spent the morning in traffic court for a $140 ticket thanks to a suspended registration. Yippee.
I was dressed up and looking calm — it was interesting to see how many people wore their laundry-day best and looked annoyed to be there. C’mon — we were ALL annoyed to be there. No one was special in that regard.
There was an article in Slate recently in which they compared the uber-cool Bugs Bunny to the temperamental Daffy Duck in a political context. And while I think I’d rather have a president who is emotive because you can actually see that they care about the country, I’ll save that argument for April 22 (the Pennsylvania primary) if need be.
Oh, where was I? Yeah. I was trying to go the classy, cool and grateful route.
And it worked.
I was doing fine until my cop showed up. Yeesh. I was hoping she wouldn’t, not that she wasn’t a lovely person and all but because I didn’t want to pay my fine. (It was for not getting emissions done, which I did three days after I got the ticket for a splendid $400 fine.)
So, the judge called my cop’s name and brought 17 of us to the front of the room. And NO ONE before me got their fees waived. This judge wasn’t taking any crap from anybody.
Then it was my turn. I bid the judge good morning and stated my name (as these sessions get recorded). The judge asked the cop what she had to say about me. And she knocked off my bobby socks when she told the judge that she had nothing to say about me and that my charge should be dismissed.
!
!!
!!!
Holy shit!
I had all my paperwork ready to go, but nobody wanted to see it. I’m thinking she must have accessed my record and saw that I took care of everything in a hurry, because I was out that door in a hurry. Whee!
I remember her name because it’s a “Melrose Place” character name, too. Is it inappropriate to send a cop a thank-you note for not fricasseeing your ass when you probably really deserved it?
I had to stick around for a moment to get some paperwork from the clerk, and while I waited, I heard the next case. The guy was pulled over for the EXACT reason I was, and he didn’t fare so well.
The cop seemed surprised that he’d gotten his emissions done, and she asked him when he did it. She looked at his paper and said, “Yesterday? You waited until YESTERDAY?”
Needless to say, he had to pay his fine as I FROLICKED out the door.
To reward myself, I drove my ass straight over to Bed Bath & Beyond to get a duvet set that I’ve been coveting. I had seen it at the new Columbia Heights location last week and didn’t want to pay the full $150 for a lousy cover and two pillowcases. But today, I had a 20%-off coupon in my bag and spent the money earmarked to pay for my ticket on the start of my new bed ensemble. (I can’t justify parting with $50 for each sham and pillow right now.)
So, even though I consumed some meat today (seriously, the Fractured Prune is da bomb! And I took a Reese’s cup donut to go. Nom nom nom), it’s a Good Friday indeed!
The government stole half of my bonus and most of my raise;
The rental office is getting the rest and this was supposed to be one of my happier days.
Well, at least I now HAVE money in my account, so there is that. 😉
Maybe it’s a sign to not go buying electronics and furniture … at least, not till I file my taxes!
“I close my eyes and wish you fine
(I’m always closing my eyes
And wishing I’m fine)
Even though I know you’re not this time
(Even though I’m not this time).”— Indigo Girls, “Love Will Come to You“
Well, my work peeps were my valentines. We had a nice catered lunch and everyone got a heart full of candy.
I, of course, left my little heart on my hot little laptop during a meeting, and it resulted in one big gooey melted fiesta of fillings. It seemed an appropriate metaphor for the holiday.
And today, our heroine returns to being as fine as she can be.
Next year will be better. And, all told, this one wasn’t too bad, either. But it would be nice to not feel like the day has to be salvaged somehow.
I guess we’re all wondering whether we’ll turn out OK. It’s hard to believe in it if there’s seemingly no hope in sight. But maybe we just have to look harder sometimes. Or, as the song says:
“… Learn to pretend there’s more than love that matters.”
The title of my last post says it all today: Maybe things DON’T happen for a reason.
I’m currently throwing stuff at the TV over the Virginia and D.C. election results. The Maryland polls close in 20 minutes, and I’m going to keep aerodynamic objects handy for what seems to be the inevitable.
I’ve felt this pressure to defend my voting for Hillary. I could give a hoot — it didn’t change my vote. But it seems like there was some sort of stigma associated with voting for the woman candidate. Like, I always made sure to say I was voting for her based on both her record and her potential.
But yeah, I think it’s time for a woman to be the leader of the free world. We all tell our daughters and nieces and younger women in our lives that they can grow up to be anything they want — they can be president. All right, then. Let’s SHOW THEM that they can!
If she were a lesser politician, I’d be the first to say no, vote for the other guy. But in a world where women still earn less money, where they are treated as second-class citizens (and their fathers and brothers and husbands think it’s OK to de-humanize them based on culture or just plain stupidity), and where our voices may be as loud as our male counterparts but yet they’re heard less, I truly feel it’s time to show the boys that it’s time to stop being the strong woman behind the man.
I just feel like the coverage was not balanced well. Articles surfaced in the last week with tones like, “If Obama wins, what will it mean for Clinton?” and not the reverse. Everyone is asking stupid questions about whether Bill can keep it in his pants if they get to move back into the White House.
So she’s not a media darling. Jesus Christ, so what? Like in every other realm of a female’s life, the woman deserves all the credit in the world for overcoming the obstacles that ANY candidate would endure, PLUS the extra heaping doses of scrutiny and criticism that don’t have thing one to do with the race, IMHO.
If Hillary weren’t running, I’d back Barack Obama. Really. And if he ends up with the Democratic nomination, I retract my statement that I’ll vote for Jon McCain. But knowing that McCain is likely to get the Republican nomination, I am not overly sure that Obama could win over him. But I think Hillary would be a more-formidable opponent in the general election.
I’m not certain why I’m taking this election so personally. I’m not a sore loser — God, I’ve lost more battles in my life than I can count. I’m sitting here with my heart in a thousand pieces, trying to figure out where to start re-assembling the jigsaw puzzle or whether to just keep carrying around this jumbled bag of glass because I no sooner start to heal than fall apart again.
I guess I’m sick of picking wrong, if that’s in fact what I do. Because I’m no dummy — I do nothing in vain. And maybe if my candidate wins or my choice works out, I’ll get my faith back in everything else.
I’m certain that even if Hills doesn’t win — and I really hope she DOES get every last delegate on her side — she will still go on to greater things. And, by proxy, so will I. But like these presidential hopefuls, do you keep the faith in your dream or do you find others to take their place? And how do you move on when all you’ve ever wanted slips through your hands like sand through a sieve?
I wrote this epic post from work today, where several of us escaped to get some peace of mind even though it is a holiday. It wasn’t always a company holiday, though — I started on MLK day three years ago.
I was such a scared little rabbit back then, having been unemployed for five months and having a whole $35 in my pocket from selling books on Amazon.com. It’s funny — years later, I am pretty much over all that fear and frustration and exhaustion, and yet I still somehow will always wonder what would have happened to me had I not been hired when/where I was. I’d rather not think about it.
I remember seeing some dollar bills on my boss’ desk. I think it was three or four bucks — change from buying lunch. I remember not being envious that he had food (which I had done without for a long time — too bad I didn’t lose any weight from not eating); I was just thinking how far I could make those few dollars stretch if I had them. A gallon of gas. Thirty packs of ramen noodles. Three items from the McDollar menu. All of those were such a dream and a treat back then.
Pathetic, eh?
Today I had a wee bit of a panic attack at work. And since I’ve been having a handful of those lately, I was starting to think maybe they were work-related. But alas, the pattern has emerged that I flip out only when my mother contacts me, no matter where I am. So even though I’m under a lot of pressure at the office, it’s still pressure that I can manage. It’s everything else, however, that’s pushing me over the edge.
I mean, to the point where my colleagues are not necessarily encouraging me to try Adult Friend Finder, but that if I were already contemplating it, then maybe it isn’t THAT bad of an idea, I get the message loud and clear that I do just need to get laid already.
It’s just too bad most of the “good” ones are married, gay or are serial-killers-in-training! And the others, hell if I know how to read them. *sigh*
But anyway, I thought I did a good job of hiding my downright insanity in the early days of my job. I kept to myself and kept my problems to myself. And these days, I feel like I can’t hide anything. I mean, I was $35 away from being homeless back then! I found my faith during that period, since some of you have been asking. I kind of said, “All right, God. If you want me to make it, this is my last opportunity.”
I wonder if I can say that the next time I’m dating someone. Not that I care much about attracting the opposite sex anymore, at this point. I was out with one of my guy friends recently and he was feeling sorry for me because I can’t bring anyone home anymore. Lord. I think my cherry has grown back. And it’s vacuum-sealed!
In any event, I’m aware that my mindset will determine my direction. I guess I’m just scared to dream right now, because that’s all that’s holding me together at this point. And I couldn’t bear to learn that any of these dreams can’t come true, because the visions are crumbling under the weight of reality and I’ve got nothing to replace them with right now.
I’ll be OK. It’s definitely not the “No Bullshit ’08” year I envisioned. But I am looking very much forward to getting to Christmas, looking back and wondering why I was so tweaked out with stress in the first place.