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!



Little Things

Sometimes he surprises me.

Not with big things. He isn’t good with big things usually.

He always gets me with the little things.

Do you hear that guys? It’s not necessarily the big things you do, but the little ones that remind us why we are still allowing you to share our precious space with us.

After laying in bed for a couple of hours, tossing and turning until my stomach felt sick, I debated with myself on getting up. To add to it, Rambo was restless…picking up his leg and dropping it on the bed. No, really. He does that sometimes. It’s freaking weird. He also punches, kicks and talks in his sleep. I read it as “get the hell out of bed and let ME sleep”. He does have passive aggressive tendencies. So I grabbed my tablet and moved to the couch.

You might have caught my ramblings on Twitter during my little bout of insomnia Thursday night. Yes, I did mention something about not having any candy in the house and the possibility of inhaling sugar. Thanks to @count_pooterman for keeping me company and talking photography.

I decided about 2:30 am to try and sleep. It worked until I heard the shower at 4:30 am.

Yeah. Love the time.

Rambo gets up for work at that ungodly hour. So I trudge into the bedroom and shut the door. I really do not want to listen to him pour his cereal and crunch his way through the fiber. I would probably throat punch him at that moment to get him to stop.

I won’t bore you with the morning…let’s just say I put the warning out to everyone. “Stay the fuck out of my way” may or may not have come out of my mouth this morning. I’ll never tell….

About 9:00, Rambo calls.

“Was I snoring? Why didn’t you kick me? You had me worried when you weren’t in bed. I get worried when you aren’t there when I wake up.”

It’s the little things.

Just Don’t Say It

Running shoes, tenners, tennies, tennis shoes, sneakers…all names for athletic type shoes. What you call them is usually based on where you live. East, West, North or South.

I prefer tenners. It’s just easier to say then running shoes or tennis shoes. It’s what I grew up with. But I will never ever call them sneakers. That just sounds…well….downright sneaky!

Why call them sneakers? It makes you sound like you are going to spy on people. Not that I do that anyway…*looking up at the sky, rolling my eyes* Not me, never! I never put my phone into spy mode and take pictures for my blog.

Put your sneakers on and peer around corners seeing what you can see…by wearing sneakers, does it make you more invisible? Can you be more sneaky if you call them sneakers?

To me, that is one of those words that you just don’t say.

Admit it! You have words that just make you shudder when you hear them and you just want to throat punch the person who said it.

In fact, one day my awesome bitches at Bitches In the Burbs collected words on Twitter from their followers and it made for a hilarious day!

Other words that you just don’t say around me are:

MOIST…ugh. Combine it with panties and it just about makes me want to barf.

Slacks…especially when a guy says it. There is nothing manly about the word slacks.

Hosiery…really now? Did they have to? What is wrong with socks or stockings? Men’s hosiery is located on the second floor. Just because I saw that sign…I will walk out of the store. Really, watch me.

Supple…suuuuppppp-ulllllll. Now say it with a little bit of a lisp…thu-pull. *shudder*

Suckle…suckling at his mother’s breast. GIVE ME A BREAK! Call it nursing…I don’t care…anything but suckle!

So I am going to go put on my new slacks and hosiery along with my supple sneakers that are made of material that keeps my feet from getting moist while I run and go suckle on a popsicle.

Feel free to share words that you think belong on this list!