It is time I did a post centered around the main theme of this blog. Talk about tangents, I've covered everything from mammograms to the ole yellow gloved finger up the ass and that was just my last post.
Men. No, REAL men. The kind of man that only seems to exist in my imagination.
Since I threatened to blow SCMs head off and leave the brain and blood splatter as a fond memory on my living room world, it is clear me that the relationship has again taken a wrong turn.
Currently I believe he is taking to the authorities about entering the witness protection program.
Since we've established that a REAL man doesn't watch American Idol, perhaps I need to make myself clear as to what a REAL man does do...
1. A REAL man can fix anything back to full working condition using only the shit that is in his garage.
2. A REAL man drives himself to the hospital when he accidentally sliced a chunk out of his leg with the chain saw he was using to build his woman a nice deck.
3. A REAL man knows that when a woman has her hair up and a pair of ratty sweats on, romance isn't in the cards but asking her to pick the DVD while he makes the popcorn is.
4. A REAL man can make a women feel safe even after taking a wrong turn into the worst part of town with only his presence as a weapon.
5. A REAL man has a hobby that is outdoorsy like golf or fishing or playing touch football with his buddies on the weekend. His hobby definitely doesn't involve titty bars, internet porn or hookers.
6. A REAL man can program a DVD to record, change the ring tones on a phone and can find and empty an temp internet folder.
7. A REAL man changes oil, washes his women's car and vacuums it out just because he loves her. He can also shrug off when she points out the water spots he missed.
8. A REAL man understands that his woman may make more than him and isn't emasculated by it but also doesn't spent his time sitting on his ass plotting how to spend it.
9, A REAL man loves Led Zepplin and The Who and not only doesn't know who Keith Urban is, he doesn't give a shit.
10. A REAL man smells like cut grass and soap and not cigarettes and yesterday's underwear.
11. A REAL man can still make his women feel like the most gorgeous women in the room even after she just tripped on her feet and fell on her ass.
12. A REAL man would never own a cat unless his women insisted and then he must pretend to hate it when others are around.
13. A REAL man understands that in a two person working family when he runs a vacuum or cooks dinner he didn't do anyone a favor.
14. A REAL man always fights for the check but will let you win sometimes.
15. A REAL man can tell a good joke and doesn't screw up the punchline.
16: A REAL man will sit on the floor playing a board game with his kids and lets the work emails and calls wait.
Okay, perhaps I am too picky. Maybe I could compromise if someone only had say ,,,fifteen of those traits.
See, I can be flexible.
So if you know a guy like this. Please send him my way. And if you have a guy like? I don't want to hear about it you lucky little shit.
To my lady readers..what do you want in a REAL man?
Today was the day I dread for the other 364 days, 8736 hours, 524160 minutes...well you get the point...
It was time for my yearly female examination.
There is nothing I enjoy more than laying spread eagle with my feet in stirrups having a virtual stranger shove a metal instrument up my vagjayjay and a gloved finger up my bum. Well, unless you count lighting my cigarette off the stove and setting my eye brows on fire. That was fun too but not quite as much.
What was even more disconcerting is my doctor is very chatty. I am sure your daughter is doing just wonderful at college, making loads of friends and enjoys the meal plan but could you hurry it along a bit? I've got a root canal at 5.
As I squish out bowlegged looking for a rest room to wipe the gobs of lubricant off my bottom, I get handed the dreaded mammogram prescription.
FUCK. Didn't I just have one two or seven years ago? That should be enough. I have to say that I am one of the fortunate women who is well endowed in that area. From what I understand the gals with the itty bitty titties have to get pulled and manipulated a tad more. Me, I just pick those babies up, plop them on the slab and let them go to town.
Hmmm, maybe that was too much information but seeing I already mentioned that a gloved finger was shoved up my ass, this seems benign compared to that.
Only 31 million seconds until my next appointment.
It was about that time that I needed to upgrade my cell phone. Even though I was perfectly happy with the one I had that was a foot long and required my passenger to stick an antenna out an open window, I was getting too many complaints.
So I did what ever conscientious consumer does. I researched reports, compared pricing and features and shopped plans.
And if you believe that I have a very nice sturdy bridge in Brooklyn I am selling cheap.
What I actually did was ask opinions. Friends, coworkers, people on the street....
"Hey Dude! Can you do anything special with your cell phone?"
Which more often than not was followed by "Get the fuck away from me, you freak."
Finally an ex friend told me I might like a Blackberry. I say Ex because I hate his fucking guts and would like to slap him and his mother for giving birth to him.
Currently I am looking down at it while it vibrates and flashes and I don't know what the fuck it wants. Should I feed it? Does it want to go for a walk? Does it need to potty? I have no idea but it is damn persistent what ever it is. I tried to press some buttons but all it did was make some chime noises which I assume is its way of laughing at me.
I have two choices. I can google the instructions and learn how to use it OR I can put the fucker back in the box and send it back to hell AT&T.
I will let you all figure out which one I am going to choose.
Basically that there are four really stupid men in this world.
Two of them I married, one I considered marrying for about 2.3 seconds and the fourth I can't even remember his last name. (I feel a little guilty about that one).
As much as I hate to admit it the days of bewitching men seem to be over for me. I don't know many dudes that are seeking 40 something women with cottage cheese thighs and saggy boobs. Even if they are 36 double D.
36 Double D at 30 is hot. 36 Double D at 40 means picking those baby's up off my stomach to strategically maneuver them into a breast reduction bra so I can button my blouse.
For a while I refused to admit I was no longer the hottest ticket in town. SCM still thinks when I leave the house I have men following me around like the Pied Piper of Hamelin but the reality is, the only men that are following me are holding "Please give what you can. God Bless you" signs.
I guess it is time to trade my big girl panties for granny panties and admit to myself the future belongs to the hot young thangs with long hair, tramp stamps and low rise jeans.
Well, Monday came around damn fast, didn't it? One minute I am gleefully playing computer games on face book in the comfort of my own home and the next I am playing facebook computer games at work. As the main support of my family, this is indeed my cross to bear.
There seems to be lots of whispering around the ole office today regarding my special snowflake employee that supposedly quit last week. He is here today but I am not sure if he is working out his notice or is pretending it all never happened.
Either way I don't give a shit other than the effort it will take to replace him. I am certain there are many gossipy busy bodies that google property values of their coworkers and patrol the hallways so they don't miss anything beating the pavements looking for work.
Although I am not so sure there are many grown men that are willing to shout that they ARE QUITTING in front of a patient they recently performed surgery on.
When writing a book, it is all about the journey. Even a humor novel based on trailer trash, missing teeth and navigating dog shit in the yard has to take the reader some place.
Which is why I am blocked.
Where the hell am I taking these people other than the market to pick up Captain Crunch, Bosco and a carton of generic cigarettes? There has to be some sort of growth other than the one growing on the back of the antagonists ear due to bad hygiene and an inflamed pore. Each chapter need to bring the reader closer to a resolution besides the protagonist finally getting her stolen EBT card back from her ex boyfriend who lives in a Who Farted tee shirt and Pathmark pick a pair flip flops.
Well even though I am shelving yet another one, I did get a small blog entry out of it so it wasn’t entirely pointless.
Although I liked to consider myself a fair and decent boss, I was told in no uncertain terms yesterday how very wrong that idea was.
I guess it had something to do with calling a 50 year old man a big baby and applauding and whistling when he shouted that he was quitting.
I am not going to get into the issue but suffice it to say, I was totally right and he was totally wrong.
Unfortunately, he won't really quit. The Gods haven't been smiling down on me that much lately and that would be too good to be true. He'll simply spend the weekend fuming and come back Monday pretending the incident never took place.
Although I did put his job on Craigslist just to fuck with him. Hopefully he'll notice it when he is trying to talk himself into how much better off he'd be working elsewhere. Shit, there is only one job for my profession in town. Ut oh, it's mine.
That's gotta hurt.
So lets make our website of the week all about me, shall we? Check out some more really bad bosses and have a good weekend.
Today is Ash Wednesday. For my Jewish readers, that is Yom Kipper light. You do get to eat as long as it isn't charred animal flesh. Well, unless the deceased is post sea dwelling. Then chop off the head, serve it up with white wine sauce and bon appetite.
As tempting as it is, I will not be attending mass and getting dirt smeared on my forehead this year. I refuse to waste the 100 bucks I spend on a facial last weekend to clog my pores with ash and oil. Religion is one thing but a big red zit on the center of one's forehead can be quite traumatic. I think God is with me on this.
When I was a teenager, Ash Wednesday was a time to go hang out with friends for a few hours on a school night getting stoned and shooting the shit. We just had to remember to smear our heads with pot ash before we came home. I think God was with me on that too. I have no doubt after seeing a platypus that the big guy parties.
Today is the beginning of Lent. A time for penitence, prayer and sacrifice (Don't you just love Wikipedia?) I've read some blogs by people that are publicly proclaiming what they plan to give up. I will give up what I have given up for the past 25 years.
Sorry but I simply can't get on board with the thought that God expects me to give up my Starbucks Carmel Frappucino for 40 days. He can't be that cruel.
Many of you know that I send my kids to Catholic school and I force them to participate in the senseless rituals. Does that make me a hypocrite?
Fuck yeah, but if I had to do it, they have to do it. Life is unfair and the sooner they get used to it the sooner they will realize that life sucks and then you die a meaningless death all alone as your soul is snuffed out and everything about you is forgotten forever.
The good news is that 40 days gives me just enough time to shop for a great new pair of shoes for Easter.
I admire the folks that can update their blog each day. I am not nearly that creative or interesting.
And I am sure you kids don't want to read an entry like this:
Woke up, pooped, ate Cherios that aren't my favs but that were on sale buy one get one free at Publix, had to poop again (the fiber I think) took a shower, applied makeup, dried hair and proceeded to work. Gave the asshole that was doing 50 in the fast lane the finger as I roared around his piece of shit hybrid and made it to work late as usual anyway.
Got my coffee, listened to three people tell me about their weekends and how incredible their kids are, tuned them out while playing the Rocky theme song in my head, did a little work, ate an apple, felt a little gassy (more fiber) and went to a meeting. Tuned THAT out, (Go Rockeeeey), and came back to my office. Did a little more work, checked Failblog and Failbooking and my Face Book Mafia Wars game until it was time for lunch. Opened two packages of instant oatmeal, added the water and put it in the microwave for three minutes. Walked away, came back to oatmeal paste. Chastised myself for not remembering it is supposed to be TWO minutes. Added water to make it watery paste, said fuck it and ate it anyway. Felt like I had to poop again. (Read the Oatmeal box. Oatmeal has fiber G-d Damn It!)
Mediated a dispute between two employees also known as prevented a freakin' cat fight, told them to close the door on their way out and read some email. Spam, spam, porn, porn, make your dick bigger, make your dick wider, spam, spam, important message, last chance, huge savings, spam, porn, spam, make your dick AND tongue longer (that one I read).
Downloaded an new audiobook from Audible called Helping Others Be Efficient Like You and did this blog entry.
I am laying in bed with my squishy pillow and blankie all comfy and snuggled in when the phone rings.
It is one of those freakin' telemarketer recordings...
"Please hold while we connect you to the next....."
One day I decide to sleep in before a doctor's appointment and some damn recording dials my number and puts ME on hold.
I have to wonder, who are the people that actually hold for the next available...
I mean a good percentage must or these annoying solicitations wouldn't continue to use this method. They are nothing if not clever to find ways to get your ear.
I must confess, I am not on the do not call list. Since I have an unlisted number, I don't get called that often and have never bothered to register. Perhaps today is the day. I really desperately needed that extra hour of beauty sleep.
It has taken years of careful research and trial and error but I finally have figured out the kind of gentleman that is perfect for me.
He enjoys eating the heel of the bread.
Maybe you think this is a little thing but I have mentally calculated how much bread I have disposed of in my lifetime and the numbers are huge. I am talking enough to feed a small village in Africa for a week.
Although with my luck, they won't like the end of the bread either.
White, wheat, honey wheat, whole grain, rye and on very special occasions I have been known to buy a loaf of pumpernickel..each and everyone one has two pieces that end up in the trash.
We do have a duck pond in our neighborhood but the request to go feed the two leftover pieces to the ducks no longer bring excitement to the Princess but eye rolls.
Maybe she knows the ducks are sick of the end pieces too.
So if I could just find a guy who not only doesn't mind the heel of the bread but actually LIKES it and looks forward to it, my world would be a perfect place.
Well, provided he finishes the last 1/4 of the soda bottle as well. That always ends up flat and poured down the sink.
Oh cranky patients, you are the bane of my existence.
There are three types of nasty ass patients that make me want to rip the script for percocet out of their hands and consume the entire bottle myself;
1. The "I am in pain and you all can fuck yourself" patient. This type of asshole is much easier to deal with than type 2 or 3. After all, if a patient has a legitimate medical condition that makes them a bit testy, I've got to at least sympathize. Even as they are informing me that I am the most inept person on the planet and should be rolled in dog shit and consumed by flies.
2. The "There is nothing physically wrong with me but I will pretend in order to get attention, disability or a big fat lawsuit settlement." Often all three. This is the patient that has quit their job stating a bad injury and gambled their family's financial stability on the outcome of a couple of medical opinions. These contemptible folks think that if they scream really loud and stomp their feet the staff will come up with a disabling diagnoses that will put them on the dole for the rest of their lives. You have to mentally picture a person that thinks they have hit the jackpot by receiving $900 bucks per month for them and a couple of hundred each for their snot nosed brats from social security.
Close your eyes. Got the mental image? Good. Moving on...
3. The "I am a paying customer and I want it done yesterday" patient. These are the people I would gladly throw off the balcony and experience great joy at the resulting splatter. Since they pay their insurance premiums and a copay, they think that everything should stop because they walk in the door. They need a form filled out and are informed that it will take a couple of days to get to? Patient 3 uses their favorite term:
THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE.
Term is also used when they can't get an appointment at 2:30 on a Saturday because they are only available at that time. Or their surgeon of choice was called over to the hospital due to a bad motorcycle accident and would they mind seeing another clinician for their post op check? Or could they get off their cell phone so the nurse can take their vital signs? Unacceptable, Unacceptable, Unacceptable.
Is it normal to be sitting besides your life partner and daydreaming about plunging an ice pick into his heart for no reason other than he happens to be close enough to do so?
Didn't think so.
Well, could it be normal to be disappointed when you find out that the internet friend he talks to half the night; the person you had hoped was an emotional affair in the making, turns out to be a 50 year old man with the same star trek game addiction?
Okay, one more try. Is it customary, when your significant other inquires as to what he can do to make you care for him to respond, "You can stop breathing and I promise to remember you fondly?"
Fuck. This reconciliation thing isn't going as well as we both had hoped.
I used to work with a woman who said she was tired of her coworker constantly hanging around her trying to be her friend and even asking her out once. He was harassing her, he just liked to be around her. But, she found him really annoying. I told her he was just a little needy and lonely because his wife had recently died, expecting her to be understanding.
Instead she turned to me and said "Well I don't blame her." haha ;-)
I had to fire two employees for cause this past week. Although they really left me no choice, it is difficult to let go of long time employees even if they fucked up.
The first one got caught manipulating her time card for extra hours. Before you ask, yes, it is entirely possible she had been getting away with it for six years she has been with me before it was noticed by a busy body fellow employee.
The second was pissed off at me for not giving her the promotion she wanted several months ago and proceeded to tell my new hire how much the company sucks, how "clicky" the staff it and how she can't wait to find a new job and get out of there.
I simply helped her along on her quest.
I let them both go the same day. Dealing with one teary eyed worker is enough, two was a bit too much even for the likes of me.
Friday is our staff meeting and I can tell you this right now; there is a lot of tossing and turning going on this night with the less than stellar employees. If nothing else I think I succeeded in letting them know that, while I try to treat people well and fairly, if you do not show me respect, I won't be keeping you on.
No matter how long you've gotten away with it been with the company.
In keeping with my being a bitch boss, my web site of the week are some bad boss stories. When I read these, I feel a little better about these two women trying to figure out how they are going to pay their rent next month.