Don’t Make Me Cry

I don’t cry.

Okay, I lied.

What I mean is: I don’t cry at work. I just don’t. It shows weakness and I am tough. I will not show people my weakness.

Well, maybe on Twitter.  Twitter people accept you, don’t care if you rant and give you support when you need it or give a smack upside the head as appropriate. And they are willing to order you pitchers of margaritas…or raise a glass in support. God, I love my Tweeps!

Do you ever have those weeks when it just overwhelms you and you try to get work done but the sheer size of the mountain is so big that you just can’t do anything?

That was this week.

And Friday I nearly cried.

I was on the phone with someone discussing work shit and I was getting so frustrated that I choked up and couldn’t talk. Worst, he is one of my superiors. Not really my boss, but still in that upper echelon of bossdom.

“Sassy, are you there? Did I drop you? Are you reading emails again and not paying attention?”

“No. I’m here. Just sitting here.” Trying not to let the tears drop out of my eyes, my throat closing off  sobs; so glad that I am not in the office.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing. Go on. Finish what you need to say.” I know he can hear it in my voice. I just pray he doesn’t ask me again.

He continues. “Blah, blah, blah, blah…smile sometime today.”

Fuck you…Yeah okay.”

And even though the tears pooled and threaten, I did not let them fall. They slowly drained away only to leave me without the satisfaction only a good cry can give you. My eyes feel like they have cried and my body feels exhausted just from the effort to not LET THEM SEE ME CRY. Or in this case…hear me cry.

I am at a crossroads in my job.

I have two titles and two job descriptions that are at odds. It hasn’t been made official to the rest of the staff and I am encouraged to keep on foot steady on each end of the teeter-totter.

It’s getting harder to balance.

I am suffering from TMSOMFP syndrome (see tags)…and I just know that I am going to move my foot and go crashing down. Either I will fall hard on my ass to the point of breaking an ass bone or get flipped on the other end and go sailing through the air only to land on my face, breaking my expensive orthodontia perfected teeth in the process.

So I am going to smash that plate and scatter the shit until it gathers dust and doesn’t smell anymore.

I will delegate more.

I will go on radio silent and not feel the need to be there at all times, for everyone.

Because dammit! I need to!



Teachers and Unicorns and Cougars Oh My!

My son.

He has a knack for rendering me a little speechless sometimes.

Last night was no different. I had the news on in the background and Bill O’Reilly was doing a segment on a Russian immigrant who came to the U.S. legally and how she did it…blah, blah, blah. I have a feeling saying what I was watching will lose me some followers…whatevs.

So, not really paying too much attention, I was reading on my Kindle 3G, Free 3G + Wi-Fi, 3G Works Globally, 6″ Display with New E Ink Pearl Technology and MJ was on the laptop when I see him looking at the t.v. (Like my plug?)

“That’s the reason the term ‘Hot for Teacher’ was coined, Mom.”

Wait. What just came out of your mouth?

“Say again.”

“Yeah mom…guys wouldn’t get any learning done in her class.”

Apparently this person is a TEACHER! Well, not in the normal sense anymore. She WAS a teacher in Moscow but came to the US, became an “internet sensation” and also went through the process to become a US citizen. Which is awesome that she went through the proper channels. Don’t worry. My soapbox is in the closet and I will  away from political stuff…

If you are interested, her website is called “HotForWords” and if you are so inclined, you can see what it’s all about. Talk about a niche site!

It’s nice to know that I most likely will be made a proud Grandmother some day by my son. Makes me think that I really need to be hiding my Victorias Secret and Venus catalogs. Hmmmm. I wonder where my Fredericks of Hollywood catalog went….

Oh MJ….mama needs to talk to you!

On another topic…there must have been something in the water that I drank yesterday because I was dreaming some pretty crazy stuff…apparently my inner cougar was just itching to come out.

I won’t bore you with all the details but somehow I ended up in a minivan with one of the people I was working with and a friend of my daughters. This is not any normal friend…it’s one of her guy friends who happens to have told her at one time that she was lucky to have a MILF for a mom! I know!!! I should be horrified at being called that but secretly, I am so fucking flattered that I can hardly contain myself. It means that I still have IT…like I really ever had IT before but hey, it makes me feel good.

And did I mention that he is hot? Yeah…in a “holy shit, I wish I was 18 again” hotness scale. Is there a term for that? Like MILF but different?

Can’t be DILF cuz that’s for dads….

Maybe….HILF….hottie I’d like to…could work…It would be kind of like Gretchen Weiner’s “fetch” she tried so hard to get everyone to say. Okay, maybe not.

So, we are in this minivan and I am NOT 18 so that technically would make me a cougar with the thoughts I was thinking. Or acting upon. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t… Let’s just say his MILF dreams came true.

And if Rambo knew what was taking place in my dreams, he would have tapped me on the shoulder at about 3:00 this morning and the rest of the day would have been a GOOD DAY. It’s not a GOOD DAY. I wish it was, but wishing only gets me rainbows and unicorns.

So, I leave you with visions of that and I am hoping that some of you started out today as a GOOD DAY… *smiling and nodding* Damn, you are having a GOOD DAY and I am not. Sigh.

That’s it! I am Borrowing the Tighty-Whiteys

I have a raging case of envy.

It took me a long time to realize exactly what I was feeling. The jealousy, anger, resentment over little things. It is all envy.

Do I wish ill will on the people who make me feel this way. No. Not most of the time. So that’s only a little sinful. Right?

I am envious that I don’t have “Penis Privilege”.

What is Penis Privilege?

Penis privilege comes with having a spongy appendage swinging between your legs that allows you to get away with shit at home, the workplace, or just plain life in general. Look around ladies! You wonder why they say that men tend to think with their little heads? It’s because they can! And they get away with it!

The penis doesn’t even have to be big! It could be the tiniest little thing but if it swings, even a little? Penis Privilege.

Poor guy…he worked hard today. He deserves to put his feet up on the desk for the afternoon. HE HAS A PENIS!

Poor woman…she worked hard today. Her reward? Go home, cook dinner, do laundry, try to fit in 20 minutes of exercise and then collapse into bed. You DON’T HAVE A PENIS!

Poor guy…he has a lot on his plate. He can put his phone on do not disturb to get uninterrupted time to complete this project. HE HAS A PENIS!

Poor lady…her plate is overflowing. Let’s see how much more we can pile on. You can work on that project after the office closes when it gets quiet. You DON’T HAVE A PENIS!

Your guy turns his head when a pretty girl walks by…that’s okay.  It’s like a little string attached to his top head and it just pulls in the direction of that estrogen laced boob display. HE HAS A PENIS!

Your head turns when a hot guy walks by on the beach…”Wtf, woman! Why you looking at that? You can’t do that when I am here!” Why not you ask? Because…. you DON’T HAVE A PENIS!

They don’t even have to wield it like a sword! It can be laying there all relaxed and oblivious in its little cocoon and it doesn’t even realize the secret powers it holds. Those powers go so far beyond it’s little imagination it would be hard for them to imagine

So for today. I am envious. I want that Penis Privilege that you men enjoy. Even if it is for just one day.

I wonder if I went to and bought Doc Johnson Crystal Jellie (it comes in pink! duh!) if it would work the same? I could grab a pair of Rambo’s tighty-whiteys and tuck it in the front, not have to worry about panty lines and enjoy those special penis powers of privilege! I really don’t think I have a thong that it would fit in…

How great would that be?

Seriously though, those powers are awesome! Having a penis means that you just get to use stressed out as an excuse for being a crab-ass. Women, they MUST be PMS’ing this week. It is never due to the amount of stress in their life. It’s always the PMS. Stress makes it okay for men, PMS just makes you a bitch.

And no…for the record…I am not PMS’ing this week.

You just HAD to go there didn’t you? I know, you did. Just couldn’t help it could you? Uh-huh…nope.

Now, how can I tell my boss that I know the secret to the magical powers of penile privilege?