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Bitchizmo for Today

August 21, 2008

In a work environment, do not – I repeat – DO NOT – more emphasis – DO NOT shout out the answer to a question that was not asked of you, but asked directly to another coworker who just happens to be in your earshot.

Let me lay the ground rules if you still don’t understand:

1. If you work in an open environment and someone approaches a coworker with a question, DO NOT shout out the answer because you want to appear to be a know-it-all. You end up, in fact, looking like an asshole.

2. Even if you do know the answer, and the asked coworker does not, DO NOT answer until you are asked. If you are asked. Most likely you will not be asked because most likely you are an irritating shithead.

The only exception to this rule is if you are the department head. The boss. The Supervisor. The Superior One. It is rude to belittle your equals by shouting out their answers in an attempt to make them appear incompetent. So be smart and STFU.

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Is this Butt Fascination Just a Phase?

August 20, 2008

I don’t know what it is about 5 and 6 year olds, but my kids are absolutely fascinated—no, awestruck—with butts. Booties. Behinds. It didn’t start until around age 4, but I’ve noticed they are getting progressively more obsessed with talking about, drawing pictures of, and looking at their own butts and everyone else’s butt. I don’t recall ever spending too much time on Buttology with my kids when they were younger than 4 so I will not accept fault for their strange affliction. But it exists nonetheless, and although funny, sometimes I find myself wondering if this butt love will ever end.

Just last night while walking toward the bathroom to brush their teeth, my daughter steps behind me and pulls my pants down far enough to show the top 3 inches or so of goods and then screams at the top of her 6-year-old lungs “EWWWWW! MOMMY’S BUTT! EWWWWWWWW! I SAW IT!”

And I’m like “OH MY GOD, YOU SAW MY BUTT! GROSS! YOU HAVE MY BUTT GERMS ON YOUR HAND! EWWWW! EVERYONE RUN FROM HER! SHE HAS BUTT GERMS!”.

The entire room exploded with girly giggles and screams. I have them wrapped around my finger, I tell you.

The level of humor they appreciate is so very simple: Just mention the words BUTT, UNDERPANTS, BOOTY, POOP, TOILET, TOILET PAPER, PEE PEE, FART, TOOTS, and/or BOOBS, and you have an instant audience and relentless laughter. I mean, how much more fun can you possibly have with other humans? You can’t say those things at work and get that sort of reaction and you certainly can’t say those things to your other relatives. So I figured I’d embrace the potty humor for as long as I can because the giggling sure does beat whining and fighting.

In a crunch? If you really want to make your kids laugh, add the word FACE to the end of any of the above words.

Since their first day of kindergarten, I’ve always placed a little handwritten note in each of their lunch boxes. The note usually says something like Mommy Loves You, or Have a Smiley Day or something equally as cheesy. But last week, the kids wanted to write each other’s lunch box note. And who am I to say no? I figured my time spent writing these little love letters was paying off and now my kids are understanding how good it feels to tell each other that they LOVE each other. With words. On paper. A far cry from the usual hitting, biting, kicking, scratching, spitting, screaming that they normally engage in.

So one of my daughters asks for the pen and paper and begins to create her sister’s lunch box note. It’s a sweet little drawing of a stick figure holding hands with another stick figure with some hearts and the words I Love You Sister. Enough to make a grown man go “Awwww”.

And then it’s the other kid’s turn to make a lunch box note. But it’s not so sweet and sentimental. She draws about 8 pairs of side-by-side circles, laughing the whole time.

I say: “What is that?”

She screams with giddy delight:  ”BUTTS!”

And we both giggle.

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Umm… Merry Christmas?

August 19, 2008

I was reading a blog today about finding Christmas bows at Costco in August. And I casually remarked, “How ’bout that. Christmas in August.” And then today at work, another coworker comes waltzing into our department with Christmas gifts for everyone! Is that pure coincidence or is this a foreshadowing of the upcoming holiday season? More likey, it’s that this lady is certifiably nuts. It’s one thing to do your holiday shopping in August, but it’s another thing to actually give the freaking gifts on August 19th!

Maybe this chick’s on to something. Maybe she’s actually doing the smart thing by getting every drop of holiday bullshit out of the way as early as possible so that when the holidays actually arrive, she can fly off to Bermuda and laugh at the stupid Americans who are scurrying like roaches amidst the holiday madness.

I personally prefer shopping online. There’s nothing that says Passive Agressive Person like getting a gift from Amazon.com. Free gift wrapping? HELLZ YEAH. Free gift message? BRING IT ON. Just who are these dingbats that enjoy and embrace holiday shopping at 5AM? I’m far too bitchy and impatient to wait shoulder to shoulder with a few hundred crazed women who are passing time waiting in line at 4:51AM talking about their Tickle Me Elmo memories.

Here’s a photo taken today of the Christmas gift left on my coworker’s desk. On August 19th.

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Bitchizmo For Today

August 19, 2008

To the asshole at Cafe Express with the white Suburban:

You piece of shit. No really. You are a disgusting piece of human excrement. Just who, pray tell, are you trying to impress by parking your Suburban in front of the restaurant door and leaving your car overpriced, resource-depleting vehicle RUNNING with the air conditioning BLOWING while you sit inside on your fat ass, stuffing your pie hole?  

Oh, and by the way, it’s a SUBURBAN. NOT AN URBAN.

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First we cringe, then we laugh

August 18, 2008

We were all having dinner out the other night at a somewhat upscale downtown restaurant. The kids were unusually naughty. And when I say unusually, it’s pretty bad. Normally, my children are those children that can’t sit still and are crawling under the table or throwing crayons at each other.

But this night was exceptionally bad and I didn’t mind because of the company we were with. I never thought I’d wish for my kids to unleash their worst upon someone, but this night was a prayer answered. Put it this way: If you had a spouse that left you to go party like a rockstar and left you to raise your twins alone and then suddenly showed up in your hometown to remind you he has an inkling of remorse, you would probably wish that those twins showed him just how difficult the last 6 years have been. Well our kids showed him that and then some. I took such secret joy in watching him try to enjoy his expensive meal with twin 6 year olds climbing on his shoulders and smacking him with menus. Touché says I. 

So come dessert time, the waiter (who had been wonderfully patient with our table this night) approached the table with the dessert menu, opened to the first page and began his rehearsed dessert speech. But my daughter would have nothing of it. As soon as he pointed to the first item on the page, she grabbed the menu from his hands and said very boisterously, “Thanks!”

First we cringed, then we laughed. 

Then just today, the family was walking through the mall on our way back to Macy’s where the car was parked. We had to pass by the annoying Disney World Time Share salesman who barely speaks English. We must’ve looked like a good target — what, with our screaming, jumping twin 6 year old girls chanting “Disney World! Disney World! Look! Disney World! Can we go to Disney World?” 

As soon as I looked up from my very obvious and sudden fascination with the tiles on the mall floor as we walked past him, the salesman started his speech to my husband. “See a 90 minute presentation and I’ll give you this free iPod!”  Hubby mumbled something about being busy and in a hurry to get home, and so he predictably turned to me. Apparently the wife is better prey since we are the more naive of the pair, huh? “See this 90 minute presentation and I’ll give you this free iPod!” I thanked him with a smile and said that we are really in a hurry. 

My daughter, however, caught just the “free iPod” part and decided to act on it. She probably figured that since mommy and daddy denied her of an iPod at her birthday party the week before, this is as good a time as any to accept an iPod. Especially a free one. So as hubby and I walked away from Mr. Salesman, my daughter grabbed the iPod (which was a fake, by the way) from the salesman and enthusiastically yelled “Thanks!” as she skipped toward us. “Check it out! Free iPod!”  ”NO!” I yelled, “Give that back to the man. You can’t have that!”  Boy was she ever bummed. 

‘Course now that I think about it, it would have been great fun to have the twins try to sit through a 90 minute presentation. I wonder how long it would take before the presenter said “Fuck this shit. They don’t pay me enough to do this.”  

Easy free fake iPod. Maybe my kid was on to something.

—–

I saved the best story for last. 

Tonight we were all watching TV when a commercial for Gerber comes on. It’s the one for the life insurance they sell with a really endearing looking actress who is so obviously not the mother of the cute baby she’s sitting next to. Being the bitch I am, I casually snarked, “That woman has a side pony tail.” (You know, the kind you wore in 1983), and as soon as I said it, my daughter exclaimed, “That woman sucks!” 

First we cringed, then we laughed. 

My husband’s reaction was much less positive than mine because all he said was “See? You’re rubbing off on her.”

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u r not cool (with a lowercase c)

August 15, 2008

My husband complains that I have so many pet peeves. In fact, one of my pet peeves is my husband complaining that I have too many pet peeves. The truth is, I’m easily annoyed. I can’t help it. If ignorance is bliss, then self-awareness is painful.

One of the things that bugs the shit out of me is people who write in all lowercase because it’s cool. I’ll admit, 8 years ago, it was cool and cutting edge. But now it’s dated, overused and uninspired. My husband does it daily. I asked him once why he does it and he said he does it because it’s different. Not mainstream. Unconventional. Non-conformist. Like he’s part of some underground club of mega cool people who do everything out-of-the-box and revolt against mainstream upper-caseness.

Here’s the reality: writing in all lowercase was indeed cool… like 8 fucking years ago, and only for the first 100 people that did it and got away with it! Now it’s just tacky. It’s not cutting edge because you know what? Everyone else who’s trying to be cutting edge are doing it too — and that defeats the purpose!

You want to be different? Try writing with proper grammar, spelling and with enough brevity to keep someone interested in reading! The majority of people cannot do that, so if you do and you succeed you are Cool. With a capital C.

And while we’re on the topic, here are a few other variations that I’ve seen attempted but fall short of being cool because, once again, it’s been done — so move on.

Exhibit A: somE peoplE typE likE thiS. it’S noT cuttinG edgE. it’S harD tO reaD. sO fucK yoU verY mucH, buT learN hoW tO typE.

Exhibit B: if you t hink th at thi s qual i fie s as c ool you ‘ve got a nother thin g com ing.

Exhibit C: oNlY 13 yEaR OlD gIrLs wRiTE LiKe tHiS.

note: I am not asserting that I am perfect by any means. Afterall, I lost the 5th Grade Spelling Bee Championship by misspelling “cellar”.

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Instant Messenger Quote of the Day

August 14, 2008

Me: so happy = gay?
» lol
» i guess I’m not gay then.

Coworker: hahahah
» o crap I laughed……IM GAY! NOOOOO

Me: so what makes {name deleted} happy alot….
» that’s the question!!!

Coworker: {other coworker} does not seem to be happy all the time
» I think pissy = gay

Me: then I am gay
» i can’t win

Coworker: no you’re bitchy

Me: and therefore bitchy does not = gay

Coworker: yes because you’re a girl so its ok to be bitchy but if your a guy and bitchy then you’re gay

Me: okay. we’ve figured out: {name deleted} is gay by association

Coworker: because he works under {other coworker}

Me: under???

Coworker:
o is he on top

Me: {name deleted} is defintely an on-top kinda guy

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Things that make me weak

August 13, 2008

1. Birthday Cake

2. Dark Chocolate

3. Arby’s Roast Beef and Curly Fries with Cheddar Cheese Sauce

4. Porn

5. A smokin’ hot man with tattoos, pierced ears and musical knowledge

6. Kittens (gay, I know)

7. Babies

8. Disney World

9. Chips & Salsa

10. Dr. Pepper

11. Anything with an Apple Logo

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I get to do whatever I want today

August 12, 2008

… because it’s my birthday. So far, I’ve come in to work late, surfed the internet, chatted with my friend back in the Midwest, ate a small piece of my coworker’s son’s $70 birthday cake (another post perhaps), ate a Starbucks Mud Pie ice cream sandwich, (I did, in fact, have a disgusting Weight Watchers entreé for lunch), talk shit about my coworker, diss another coworkers hideous outfit (called a jumper. Um, 1984 called and wants it’s outfit back), and talk on the phone half the day. It’s MY day, dammit.

So I’m 31 now. Here’s what’s cool about being 31:

1. Sex is better.

2. I’m very close to paying off my college loan.

3. I don’t have to be jealous anymore of the 22 year old who can wear a size 2.

4. I didn’t have to grow up during a time when pop country is popular.

5. I don’t feel the in persistent need to show off my cleavage to get attention.

6. Sex is better.

7. I could very well qualify as a MILF.

8. I can shrug off being called a Bitch.

9. Sex is better.

10. With the right attitude, I can still pass for 28… if I really wanted to.

It’s 4:20 now (!!) which means I have 40 minutes until I fly outta my office to go pick up my rug rats and then who knows what will happen. My husband stayed up all night (will have to post something regarding this phenomenon: people who only finish projects whilst under extreme pressure), so he may very well sleep the evening away leaving me to celebrate my birthday with my 6 year old twins. Yay. An evening of screaming, arguing, whining and if we’re lucky, a bit of Hannah Montana. Sweet.

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If Kids Ran the Olympics

August 9, 2008

So tonight we were watching the opening ceremony of the Olympics and talking about all the countries and how each country has athletes who compete.

Here’s the conversation that transpired:

My Husband: see kids? They will play all sorts of sports.

Kid: what kind of sports?

Husband: well, like swimming, running, soccer…

Kid: and Duck-Duck-Goose?