bilgistic

What's with bikini guy's Saturday Night Fever walk?

Hey, Kevin, my cats don't like you either.

I'm getting my toes done because I work like a mule and it's the only thing I do for myself one in a while, but I'm very anxious and irritated (instead of relaxed) because a woman here brought along her son, who is under a year old. He's alternately standing in her lap (she's in another pedicure chair--I'm just waiting for him to take a header onto the tile floor), squirming and fussing. I would be, too, if I were that age in this place.

Where I live, people beep at you if you aren't practically jumping the light before it turns green. I very sweetly give them a single-finger salute.

Quof, that made me laugh. You sound like my mother. When I was a kid, she would always say, "Pick up your feet!" I say out loud (but not loud enough for people to hear me) that these damn kids need to pull up their pants! I don't want to see their underwear, and they look like Gumby walking without moving their thighs apart because the crotch of their pants is between them, constricting their movement. I'm old.

I'm not on those, but several other meds, including synthetic thyroid hormone for hypothyroidism. I used to get eaten alive by bugs in my childhood and young adulthood, but they haven't touched me in years and years, and I can only guess it's because of the meds. My sister get made a meal of by insects even when using repellant. She's not on any meds.

OMG, allergy meds! I had been using an RX nasal spray for YEARS that worked quite well. My insurance, in their infinite wisdom, suddenly decided they wouldn't pay for it anymore, b/c there are "suitable alternatives" available for purchase OTC. So, I dutifully bought an OTC brand (that used to be RX), which I had used years ago, but obviously quit at some point b/c it didn't work for me (but I had forgotten that until I used it and recalled the scent...and the headaches it gave me. Furthermore, my insurance wouldn't reimburse me via my FSA plan for the OTC medicine that THEY TOLD ME TO BUY b/c I DIDN'T HAVE A DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION FOR IT. WHAT IN THE EVER-LOVING FUCK.

I have some limited experience with "in business for myself", as I was kind of forced to freelance b/c I couldn't get a job in the economy downturn (no matter what the Sharks say!). I do graphic design and research and basically whatever other support work (non-broker) for commercial real estate. It was miserably hard and I made peanuts (my hourly rate was good, but no one had money to spend on freelancers; I made less than $10K a year for about four years). I finally got a full-time job a year ago. I wouldn't wish on anyone what I went through. Being poor is INCREDIBLY hard. People who think it's easy and you get a government ride or some shit are DELUSIONAL.

I couldn't figure out what kind of "modeling" that woman was supposedly doing--KMart circulars? And again with these people taking a caravan with them to the consultation! Did there really need to be three generations of her family there? And, hell, where was the daughter/granddaughter/great-granddaughter? I guess there are only three chairs in that conference room.How in the everloving hell does that clown-faced lunatic afford a Birkin?? Where have I gone wrong in my life? I thought that Guillermo totally did not need his surgery. Good for him that it made him feel better about himself, but I think a lot of it was mental/emotional. Plenty of middle-aged guys have much, much worse moobs than he did, and strut about on the beach wearing nothing but banana hammocks.

I have complained and complained about the Sears commercial. That stupid mom lets her kid run around in Sears and when he races by her and the salesman, nearly knocking them down, she gives the guy a look like, "Oh, what a scamp! What am I to do?" It makes my blood boil! And then that fucking kid, who looks to be at least EIGHT YEARS OLD, jumps on the open dishwasher door. NO! I've said here previously that even my cats know not to do that. I hate that commercial SO MUCH. (Clearly!) One Million Moms spend their energy fighting a fucking crappily drawn cartoon Pop-Tarts commercial, but this bullshit is fine? It figures.

He tries to be some version of "funny", but it generally lands in the category of tone-deaf privileged white male humor. I thought the picture was inappropriate. I'm particular about there being boundaries between work and personal lives. He wanted to "friend" me on Facebook, and I wouldn't approve it. I have only 13 or 14 friends and I'm related or quasi-related to all but two of them. He and my coworker are quite different from me. They are 33 and 26, married, white males from privileged upbringings, and I'm a 40-year-old, single/never married, white female who grew up with a single mother with three kids and little family support. I honestly think he's been sheltered and coddled and has never had his views challenged. Once in a while, I call him on it. I questioned something one day last week, he said I was "one of those people that just likes to find something to complain about". It really irritated me, because I feel like sometimes I'm not taken seriously as a woman. He's a bit of a bully. I can't imagine how it must feel to be his wife. *I'm not saying it's inherently bad to come from a place or position of privilege. To use it to oppress others is a bad thing.

I KNOW. I hate that he does that; any time he has to be alone with the kids when his wife has a social function (she's a SAHM), he calls it some variation of "Daddy duty". It is nauseating.

I'm fairly certain that was her excuse, but I'm pretty sure that thick, gaudy acrylic nails aren't very professional or business-like. ::shudder::

This evening, while I was still at work and he was at home "on Daddy duty", my boss sent me a picture of his three-year-old son standing on their patio, leaning back and peeing into the landscaped playground area (the photo was of the boy's clothed back and his shirt covered his bottom). My reply: "Uhhhh..." His response: "That is parenting, bilgistic." Me: "Your son pisses in a sandbox just like mine does." I was referring to my cat. Did I need to tell my boss at some point that I didn't want pictures of his kid pissing?

My ex-boss charged her nail salon appointments, among other things, to the company credit card. Granted, it was a struggling three-person company and she had put her own money into it, but I always wondered what the IRS would think about stuff like that. The company was/is incorporated, and one sets up a corporation to protect oneself. In other words, if the company fails and has to declare bankrupty, it's my understanding that the company officer(s) isn't liable for company debt. That's why it's inherently wrong to use a company account for personal charges.

Or their own poop, or cat poop out of the litter box.

I say "ankle", but I mean lower calf. That isn't a thing, though. I always wore them with pants covering them, NEVER with skirts (because I don't wear skirts/dresses).

Eh, I'm not bothered by what's "in style". I just like what I like. I had a pair of ankle boots that finally gave up the ghost this past winter, and I went to find more like them--simple design, small platform, chunky heel--and the clerk basically laughed at me and told me to look on eBay. I laughed along with her when I realized I'd had the boots for at least 16 years.

coughIweartoeringsandflaredjeanscough

Hooch!

They want you to be available all the time to work for them at their whim. This is the "new economy". My mother's work was NEVER like this.

I know I'm an old lady (I'm 40) because these words that kids make up piss me off. My 36-year-old sister often uses them, and that pisses me off even more. "Fleek" is one such word that I HATE. I don't know why something so dumb irritates me so much.

It's hard to believe, but I've actually seen TWO women on TV that do the smashing-things-with-boobs act. The other was on AMC's Freak Show. I see stars when my cats walk on my boobs, so I can't imagine smashing random objects with them.

I made it a general policy to stop sending greeting cards several years ago, except to people like my octagenarian grandmother. I get that cards make you smile for a second, but then? They are trash. As a crazed environmentalist, I don't want to put more garbage out there. I'll call you on your birthday.