Do you REALLY say what you mean?

I do.  And I realized that this question holds my happiness and/or  probability in being crestfallen within it’s very grip since I say what I mean on the reg.

You see, I may be a legend in my own mind but I don’t know many other people that speak without fear. People have many reasons for guarded speech.

Call it diplomacy, call it compromise. I do know how to create and succumb to both gracefully. Sometimes, however, that shit is just not the call I’m going to make.

I applaud and embrace tact as well btw.  Thanks!

When I say I have 20 dollars to my name, I have 20 dollars left to my name. No savings squirreled away that I “don’t count”  or a stash of qualified funds that I “don’t touch”.

Nope. If I say I have 20 dollars to my name, I mean it. I don’t want to hear you commiserate if it’s not true. Thanks.

Sure “poor” is a perception, but then again it’s not. Not really.

P’raps I should consider a shift in my attitude towards money so that I don’t find myself in 20-dollars-between-me-and-homelessness type of vexing situations, but then I remember folks who are really fringe dwelling…I laugh at and then chide myself for the high melodrama in my mind. Truly poor people are not prone to melodrama.

Do I purposefully make things harder for myself?   Just because when I say I don’t take shit, I mean I don’t take shit?

Not self- righteous so fuck you very much for thinking that. At some point I realized that it’s unhealthy,  for my viscera, to allow someone to literally or figuratively put their boot on my neck and find a cushy home there.

Venting over happy hour and endless shop-talk can get me only so far. Unsaid words can creep up and cause cancer!  Or just a really bad rash even!

When someone insists on fucking with me despite all of the non-verbal indications, “supervisor” or not, I’m the one who’s gonna say “Hey, quit fucking with me over here. I’m trying to work, Douche!”

I use different words. Polysyllabic even. Sometimes I channel Shakespeare. A non-prurient, low-toned verbal beat-down can really magnify unjustified ire.

Corporate America isn’t quite the place for my kind of…hmmm…chutzpah?  Mostly seen not as moxie but as foolish by those who say they are poor when they are not, or those that believe you have to eat shit to get somewhere – just because they did?  Why can’t a nose-to-the-grindstone ethic be enough? Probably because I’ve altered my grindstone to stay up in the air with my nose: My Back. Is. So. Straight…

Corporate America is indeed a giant fraternity/sorority.  Fuck being hazed so I’m the wildcard? (Joker, Joker! Medieval Torture for 50.00 please…)

I’m quite predictable in my unyielding desire to never, ever eat nobody’s shit pie, goulash or run of the mill steaming pile.  I’ll drink some vinegar, but that’s it bitches! I’ve got a wicked sensitive gag reflex!

For things going down anyway…

your children in public spaces…

– Not everyone is in love with your moppet(s).  Just because I have one too doesn’t mean you and I are at all alike.  Especially when the world,  and all of it’s inhabitants, and all creatures big and small are required to run on your clock, enduring your parenting style or lack thereof.  Impose yourself and your brood in this way and I might use you and yours as a benchmark to teach my offspring the difference between appropriate and inappropriate behaviour.

So I guess there is something in it for me after all,  other than being annoyed enough to spit tacks.

Forget that “village raising a child” mentality -unless you can accept that we are from different villages and when forced to be in your village, I will be the cranky- old-bitch-elder-that teaches your children and you a lesson you’ll neither enjoy nor expect in line at the grocery store. Nepotism entitlement at it’s best, and I’m a captive audience. I guess I could go to the less granola, less alternative grocery-cum-coffee shoppe. But then where would I get my Roland Grilled Roman Artichoke Hearts?

I am not talking about a kid having a meltdown – like they all do. Matter of fact, I was completely unapologetic when that did happen with my kiddo (past tense because my boy is 11 now and no kid should be having a meltdown past the age of 5 without a medical situation). The last thing you need to do as a parent is let your varmint know that they can embarrass you. Fuck that! Game over if that’s an issue for ya.

To be clear though, I am also not the biddy that will give you dirty looks if your baby is crying on an airplane.  I give the people giving the dirty looks in the crying baby’s general direction, dirty looks! Those adults having a fit over an infant are guilty of grown-up meltdowns, the result of over indulgence as children themselves. I mean who can’t understand a baby crying on a plane? Get over yourself.

No. I am talking “subtleties” here.  Just because you send your child to a Waldorf inspired situation, doesn’t mean I should have to wait and wait and finally walk around them simply because they’ve decided to explore some practical life activities right in the middle of Aisle One.  On the floor. Of the store. For like 10 minutes.

And all I wanted was a Pepsi!

in vino veritas

I used to be such a truth teller.  Part of my 20 to 30 something credo, as it were.  Nowadays – I fervently dislike the sound of that – “nowadays” – is it even a word? Or a gross bastardization of language like “irregardless”? Ugh! – hate it so much that I’ll practice confrontational therapy by using it. Words are my friend. Even this one.

Nowadays, I find it easier and much more informative to let people believe what they want about me – or any situation for that matter – in an exercise that tells me all I need to know about them  (i.e. (or e.g.), someone inclined to believe the worst about you might not be the best broad or fella to hang out with, yes?)

(Apparently I’ve never met a parenthetical opportunity I didn’t like, hmmm?)

But, funny thing, what happens if that person is someone who is already supposed to know you???  Someone you’ve done time with: invested emotion and thoughts and the guts of your humanity? Do you not know them afterall? Or anymore?

Hello friend, where’d you go? Oh the Horror! I’ve now come full circle in receiving the spiked end of the Truth Hurts club I once wielded so triumphantly; however indirectly…

Now trot on down to your local TJ’s and get a case of Amarone dell Valpolicella to share with someone you need to get to know better. One mo’ again.

It is the best thing ever.

Honest.

“Baggage”

Ok folks, it’s 2012. Gone with 2011, there are should-be-abandoned terms like “at the end of the day”, or “it is what it is”.  Along that train of thought, let’s quit dismissing people’s experiences as “baggage”. Wasn’t that first coined in what, the 70’s?  When you utilize the term “baggage”, you might as well be saying “I’m just not that interested in discussing what you did or said to make me feel insecure/angry/etc”: in effect, deflecting the fact that whatever was said, brought up YOUR “baggage”.  Ergo, since everyone has experiences, everyone has baggage.  (Everybody eats, so everybody poops? Great book.)

Talking about “baggage” says volumes more about the accuser than the target. In describing someone as “that chick has a lot of baggage”, you could be referring to any number of qualities about “that chick”. If “that chick” is over the age of  30 for instance, then yeah, more than likely, a lot of shit can go down in a life of a 30 year old anybody; some of which might not make “that chick” good company for you. Not her fault. Don’t be a stooge and take it personally. Someone might think you have a set of  damn Samsonite yourself. No, not fabulous Orla Kiely iconic cars print either.

It’s like telling someone to calm down when they are no where near flying off the handle (pet peeve), like telling a racist that they’re a racist (actually fun to do), telling a black girl she got an attitude (we know, we like it, we like it a lot), or calling out some dude with the very same term he uses far too liberally (beatch!).  May be true, but as an apostrophe to an argument? Look out for the rebuttal. Sa-wing! And upside yo head. That’s a phrase that’ll never go out of style…

So there.

public transportation

When riding public transportation or standing around waiting for said transport, I am the type who’ll always gravitate towards space. I don’t find solace in clustering. Some do, no harm no foul; unless of course you are looking for comfort near me.

When there is a majority of available seats, say, two to five people scattered throughout a bus/tram/train, this broad right here, this broad right here?- will go to Nut City when you forgo aaaaaaaaaaaallll of those empty seats to sit Right. Next. To. Me.

Lose it, I will!

Long ago, I came up with a neat little behaviour mod experiment, nay trick, that works like a gem on those poor hapless lemmings that can’t bear a little alone time on a mostly empty bus/train/tram.

Much like I begin to HACK AND GURGLE and prepare my best bitch face when standby passengers begin to board a flight putting my EMPTY MIDDLE SEAT status into jeopardy, I am equally tenacious when protecting the seats directly in front, next to, or in back of me on a mostly empty bus/train/tram.

I have found the aforementioned air travel histrionics necessary only rarely after I perfected my ode to BF Skinner. The only caveat: when you are dealing with a lunatic, do the opposite of what I prescribe below (i.e. nothing), lest you provide them any reason to feel invited into your world, mistakenly recognizing you as one of their tribe.

Back to maintaining precious personal space:

Immediately upon new passengers entering the bus/train/tram, start glancing methodically (with your eyes only) in the direction of  the empty seats. Add a gentle nod.

80% of people will take your non-verbal direction. Simple, right?

Now, not only do you maintain your space, but you can also relish the fact that you are a genius.

Obviously this will not work at rush time. Ever. Just be resolved that you’ll be entirely too close to someone either clipping their nails, flossing their teeth or threatening to kill you due to mistaken identity or a drug-induced unreality with a dash of mental illness thrown in.

It is public transportation after all…Don’t forget the Mustela wipes for those sticky-from-an-unknown-substance-nasty-ass-handrail situations.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhmmm…Ohhhhhmmmmmm…

the old switcheroo…

STILL IN SCHOOL:  You’ve pulled an all-nighter but that Psych paper just ain’t writing itself? Mistakenly pass in that English Lit paper you’ve already done, buying yourself a little bit more time to finish. Who needs to cheat and buy an assignment? Let the system work for you. Deadlines?! What? Who?

OUT OF SCHOOL AND BUSTED BROKE:  This ploy used to work for utility bills as well, but may not these days. Send a check to the phone company made out to the electric at your own risk. At least you’ll have a story that just might resonate with the poor offshore individual chirpily handling your customer cervix needs and getting paid chattel to do it…Does anyone still use checks to pay bills? At this point in life, cut and run while you still can and go volunteer/vacation at Hostel El Encuentro in Guatape Colombia. Hike Piedra de El Peñol instead of wrapping the same size rock around yo neck by getting a 9-5.

SLAVING AWAY IN CORPORATE AMERICA: The above exercises will not work, cannot be applied in the hellish playpen of corporate america. If you are smart enough to be convincing re; the above innocuous ruses (yes, innocuous), then you are too smart to waste your time playing dumb for the infinite period of time required in this particular milieu. The talent to formulate ostensibly definitive statements comprised of endless prepositional phrases and middle management jargon 101, ultimately illustrating no definitive position at all, is required.

I could have just said you need to know how to say nothing in 50 words or more. But that’s a whole ‘notha post.

Indeed.

venus hottentot, Not!

FLOTUS  is divine.

Lusted after by them dogs.

She’s a superstar!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A strong woman, She.

Hils did have it rough as well.

But Michelle’s ass; A headline?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Toned arms and a look

weakened folks want to call mean.

She just don’t take shit!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rudeness she endures!

They cannot diminish her;

they show little class.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

What a role model

for all our daughters to see.

She has a mind too.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx