Monday, September 27, 2010

Just. Stop.

This post is about something that's been bothering me for a little while now and I have to get it out.

In the last month or two I've lost some weight. It's been enough weight that I've had to resort to using my office supplies to keep my clothes adjusted properly. A well placed binder clip here...a few staples there...and voila! Tailor schmailor.

Okay. I know I look ridiculous. I know a binder clip holding up my pants looks just plain stupid. I know trying to staple the waist smaller is no substitute for having them professionally taken in. And I know using my paper clips as bobby pins to keep my bangs out of my eyes is a blatant lack of pride. That has nothing to do with the weight thing but whatever...I get it.

Here's the thing. I did not intentionally lose any weight. I do not like discussing my unintentional weight loss. I do not like having you look at me and cluck your tongue as if I've done something wrong. I do not want to be pulled into your office and asked if I'm sick. I do not want you tugging on the seat of my pants asking where my ass went. I do not want you monitoring my food intake. I do not want you to comment on my food intake or ask how I am skinny when I eat the way I do. I do not want you insinuating that I have an eating disorder. I do not want to hear your opinion that you think I look good. I do not look good. Just because I have to work with you and see you every day, does not give you the right to comment on what I'm wearing, what I'm eating, what I'm not eating or the way my body looks.
It's not okay to voice observations when a coworker is gaining weight, so please don't do it when one is losing weight.

Again. The weight loss is not intentional. I will gain it back. However, until it does come back you're just going to have to deal with the stupid binder clips, obnoxiously stapled pants and a droopy ass because I'll be damned if I'm going to buy a whole new wardrobe just to get you people off my case.

So please. I implore you. No more comments. No more monitoring. No more head tilted to the side with mock sympathy asking if everything is alright. Everything is alright for now but I can't say how much more of this bullshit I'm gonna be able to handle before I start drop-kicking some co-working mofo's. And I REALLY don't wanna pop any staples so please, people. JUST. STOP.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Warning: Contains Swears.

Mom, if you are reading this post, stop now. Seriously. Stop. See that little red X in the top right hand corner of the screen? Click on it. Now. Okay, but really, stop reading. Erin and Tara...this should probably go for the two of you as well.
If you have chosen to ignore my attempts of dissuasion and find yourself at the end of this post disgusted, appalled and ashamed to call me daughter/ have no one to blame but yourselves. Ignorance is bliss! This is your second and final warning. STOP READING!

Moving on...
This summer has sucked some major balls of shit and here's why. The dynamic ginger duo has officially and forever been dissolved. At the beginning of June, my bestie/boyfriend Steele (Gross. Now I find the word bestie hideously appalling as well. Thanks a lot Brandy-Son.) suggested I start dating other people. He knew before I had figured it out that he couldn't be the person I needed him to be. Sure, a mature move on his part but still...what the FUCK? And so, in one of my severely LESS than mature moves, decided I was going to date the shit out of Salt Lake. He wants me to date? I'll EFFING date!!!
Oh. But wait. I didn't actually know anyone I wanted to date. But not to worry. In a stroke of sheer genius, I came up with the BEST. IDEA. EVER. I would join a dating site. Worked for the couple featured in the commercial on T.V. How could I go wrong? But just in case, I ran the idea by a couple of my coworkers.
They laughed. They rolled their eyes. They asked if I had been drinking on my lunch break. Maybe. What? NO! They said it was the worst. Idea. Ever. But since the best they could come up with was hooking me up with their unemployed, video game addicted brother living in their parents basement, I decided to go with Plan A.
I set up my account, created my profile, uploaded some pics and started trolling the site and feeling like some dirty creeper doing something that would land me in an orange jumpsuit. I logged off and let it go for a couple of days. When I decided I was feeling desperate enough to try again I logged in and to my horror and fascination discovered I must have been the featured "fresh meat of the day". My inbox had been busy being a little whore and accepting any ole e-mails that presented itself. I had a bunch of people "winking" at me (what the hell is THAT creepy ass shit about?) and 7 IM's spontaneously popped up. I never did figure out how to turn off the damn IM.
After about two weeks of this B.S. it was feeling like a part time job. I know there were quite a few nice, normal...ish men on there but weeding through the douche-fest to find one? Pass. Yes, you have delightful muscles but your grammar is atrocious. And if you don't know what a botanical garden is, much less how to spell it, stop talking to me. And by no means should you continue to e-mail me with increasing hostility when I have not once responded to any of your attempted communications. Do I SEEM like the kind of girl who goes for domestic violence? Unless I'm the one inflicting it, the answer would be NO. Stop writing me. And if I DO actually give you my number and respond to a text. Do NOT immediately call me simply because you know I have my phone on me. There's a reason I'm on the Internet and prefer to communicate through texts. The least amount of actual human interaction, the better.

So. June and July were spent juggling my time between four different candidates. Candidates for what, I'm not entirely sure. I know it doesn't sound like much but when you have 3 to 4 dates every week it gets exhausting. I don't have the stamina or the memory for this kind of thing. I'm too old for this shit. I couldn't remember who was the only child and who played rugby. Who was Buddhist and who was the atheist? It was getting ridiculous and I was wasting their time. I wasn't interested in dating. I was interested in staying so busy that I wouldn't have time to sit still and think about my heartache of losing Steele as a boyfriend. Three months later it still aches but we never would have worked. We're still besties (gag) and have shared custody of Midas. Silly, I know, but we both really love that dog. Strangely enough we get along better and seem to like each other more as friends than significant others.

I lasted less than a month on the dating site but did agree to meet one person from it who I'm still seeing and will write about later. The other 3 gentlemen were from my real life and I am no longer seeing them. They should count their lucky stars they dodged this bitch's psychotic bullet.

Seriously. Thank your God or Buddha or your non-existent black hole of atheist emptiness that you came away unscathed.