If I have to listen to one more friend over analyze why the guy she flirted with Saturday night didn't call, I am going to burn my fucking ears off.

I thought at 40, I would be over this shit but no. Seems so many of us are out there looking for permanent relationship number two that we have reverted back to asking if we think Joey from 4th period pulled our pigtails because he likes us.

I am beginning to think many women can talk themselves into anything. To me, if you meet a gentleman, you have a nice time, he asks for your number, you give it and he doesn't call,it means he simply didn't want to get together.

Simple right???


Apparently I am wrong and needed to be corrected. Mr Right didn't call because of one of the following reasons....

He is too scared of being hurt in another relationship.

He is insecure and doesn't want to make the first move.

He really wants to call but he is intimidated by strong powerful women in general.

He's been burned before and wants to take it very slow.

oh and the dreaded..

He must have lost my phone number.

The worst part of this is sitting around while women commiserate with one another and agree that one or all of these is probably the reason for the rejection.

I've been out in the dating world and one thing I know for sure....if a guy is into you, you'll know it and won't have to make excuses for him.

If you're waiting by the phone for days, it is time to toss out that rancid pork chop and find yourself a new one.

We can say "his loss" but why the fuck can't we BELIEVE it?

Come show me how ye bury yer treasure, lad!

Bad Blogger! Bad Bad Bad Blogger!

I think I have pulled down my business hat so tightly over my ears that I have no time to lament about how much life sucks.

I guess that could actually be a good thing. Although I suspect it will all come crashing down any minute now and drowned me in internal fears, insecurities and my own bowel waste.

After giving my old assistant the boot, I've been scrambling to make up for the shit she was supposed to be doing and was not, as well as correcting the shit she was working on but fucking up. If nothing else, each day I feel less bad about firing her useless ass. As a matter of fact, firing was much too good for her. I should have publically humiliated her by tying her inefficient ass to the conference table and have her coworkers lob rotten bananas and horse manure at her.

At least all is dyfunctionally normal on the home front.

In the past three day, SCM has bashed his head against inanimate objects exactly twice. He is walking around with two huge bruises on his noggin and a dazed and confused look on his face. Even more than usual.

Does the fact that this cracks me up make me a bad person? In my defense, I did check on him in the middle of the night after the first injury to make sure he wasn’t dead of a brain hemorrhage. Oh, and I was barely even disappointed when I acknowledged the fact that he was still breathing.

Number one son is getting the fuck out of my house a couple of weeks to make his way in the world. Of course he made sure he was still able to come for meals and to drop off his laundry. Being independent is one thing but there is no reason to be extreme!

He was a bit insulted when I started taping paint chips to his bedroom wall in anticipation of redecorating the room that will become my new home office.

“But wait, what if I need to come back?”

Love ya kiddo, not an option.

Did you ever feel like you could do no wrong and everything you touch will just turn to gold?

Yeah, me neither.

Have a good one kids.

I have always been a little ashamed of my dreams. While others spoke of dreams about flying, battling monsters or even walking through the office stark naked, I would dream about frantically searching for a bathroom at a U2 concert. Typically prefaced by too many Dr Peppers prior to crawling between the sheets.

I do have one interesting dream. I dream that I am driving down a busy freeway and I can’t open my eyes. I swerve to the left, swerve to the right and keep trying to open my eyes. Oh, and sometimes I also need to go to the bathroom. You don’t have to be the big S.F. to figure out what that shit means. My psyche is convinced that my life is out of control and my bladder is telling me to lay off the late night Dr Peppers.

Is anyone really in control of their lives? "Normal" people make plans and goals and do their best to make them happen. Whether your goal is to become a brain surgeon or simply screw Angelia Jolie, a goal is a goal. You can attempt to get on a path where those things may happen but even in the most organized life, circumstances will fuck with you every time.

You can't control what your kids do when you're not around and you can't control whether your boss wants to take out his bad fucking night on you. You can't control who falls in love with you and who pretends to in order to get some ponany. Hell, if you are female, you can't even control the day you're going to be bleeding from the crotch. It is all a crap shoot. Some winners, some losers but we are all trying to avoid being punched in the head by life while trying to scrap the dog shit off of our new Marc Jacobs pumps concurrently.

In the meantime, I am going to try to have a more interesting life in order to spice up my dreams, stop thinking about heavy shit before I fall asleep and lay off the Dr. Peppers.

At least there are itsy bitsy things in my part of the universe I can control.

I almost had time to do a blog entry and then my new fucking assistant reminded me I had a meeting.

Had to slap her ass down yesterday when she came in to gossip about things that are going around the business community regarding her predecessor.

I looked her straight in the eye and told her that I do not listen to gossip. I don't care who or what it has to do with, I don't want to hear it. She is NEVER to share this shit with me again if she wants to keep her job.

She looked crestfallen. Probably thought we were going to have a bonding experience and polish each others nails.

Yeah....I don't bond. Now get the fuck out and type something.

A Parting Of Ways

I found it necessary to fire an employee that has been with me for ten years. I was her mentor and she was my protege for a very long time.

The necessity to part ways was her fault and although I did everything I could to make it easy on her...

a big severance package, no controverting of unemployment claim, health insurance coverage for six months, etc etc etc...

I still feel like shit.

There is only so much you can do for a person that doesn't want to help themselves. I offered to keep her insurance active thinking she might want to take advantage of seeing someone...

And by someone I meant a fucking shrink because she has lost a freakin' mind.

She informed me that she is just fine.

Personally, I don't define fine as coming into work an hour late each day, leaving an hour early and passing all your responsibilities onto someone else.

Wait...that is not only fine..it is smart. Well, until about the time she lost her job..but until then, brilliant.

I let this go on a year because she had a life changing event. After ten years of service, I am more than willing for an employee to have an emotional breakdown. As a matter of fact, if you work in my place for ten years, I encourage it.

However, she began to take advantage of my leniency and patience, which started other employees to talk of preferential treatment, which caused morale to go down the fucking toilet.

Fun fun fun.

As a friend said to me...It had to be done.

Yeah..it did. But that doesn't mean I can't feel like shit about it.

Well, Butter My Butt and Call Me a Biscuit

I actually managed to go an entire day without yelling, screaming or throwing any and all handy objects at my son.

I am so proud.

It was touch and go for a minute when he inquired as to when I planned to go grocery shopping whilst complaining of the lack of his preferred nourishment in the cupboards.

I did manage to force a smile and congratulated him on his love of Ramen Noodles. Simply because he is going to be eating them a good long time.

SCM is dealing with the son's sabbatical from life a lot worse than I. Although both of them hang around the house all day so they are bound to get on each other nerves.

At minimum, the snoring from the many naps required to survive all that late night gaming must be annoying.

In any case, I think I am just about ready for sainthood.

Unless one has to be dead...in which case...please put off submitting my name for a few years.