Six Things
I guess you can only go so long before getting tagged by an evil shadow that lurks the internet called a meme. Scarbie Doll at Martinis For Milk tagged me with this one:
Six Things That May Make You Like Me Less.
Gosh this was hard to write. I tried to decide whether I should go for the "harmlessly benign" or "I'm going to regret this honesty" and decided on honesty. You may really just like me less after this. Read it all the way through before you decide.
Here goes.
1. I have a horrible, screaming, throwing things, insane psycho bitch temper for exactly one week every month thereby perpetuating the stereotype for all women.
I am the one they write sitcom sketches about. Three weeks out of every month I am fine. My normal personality is laid back, easy going, thoughtful and kind. I can weather even the worst traumas, emergencies and tragedies with aplomb. Catch me on the wrong week and you will hate me. I am bloated, depressed, irritable, angry and I will fucking cut your throat and eat your liver if you so much as look at me cross-eyed. It takes a few days and then I go through a weepy stage where I walk around tearily issuing blanket apologies for anything that I may have said or done to piss you off in the past week that I may not have cared about at the time and conveniently don't remember.
2. Sometimes I lie to Ye Old Matey and say I forgot to walk the dogs when what really happened is I was just procrastinating watching the Brady Bunch on TV Land or blogging or reading someone else's blog and I just ran out of time and had to make a last second dash to work. I'm not late if I get there before everyone else and the blasted dogs are hell to walk. He goes to work early and gets home early so they can wait a leetle while. Sometimes. Sorry for that mess in the garage the other day, honey. I hope he never reads this. He is going to have a fit.
3. I don't like white people, black people, Americans or foreigners, native borns or immigrants, Catholics or Protestants, Jews or Gentiles, Democrats or Republicans, conservatives or liberals, ghetto people or bourgeois people, men or women, blonds or brunettes or stupid people who think labels that divide us more than unite us are really important. Well, maybe except for the Men / Women thing. I don't like unisex public bathrooms so that may just be an important distinction. For the record, I do like moms, dads, geeks, smart people, friendly people, quirky people and the occasional cute puppy, kitten or kid. I probably like you, just not everyone else. Mean people, go away.
4. I do not do dishes. Two years ago, six years into my relationship with Ye Old Matey, I stopped doing dishes. I will clean everything else in the house but I hate cooking and dishes and I just won't do it anymore. I can cook, but he does it better. He's more organized (he could show Martha Stewart a thing or two) whereas my cooking style is a tad more chaotic (no one will notice the dishes piled under the sink for a while, will they?) So, I quit doing KP except for emergencies (like when he's sick or for special holiday stuff). He doesn't like it much but since he doesn't have to clean anything else except the dogs he doesn't complain much either.
5. I like my boss. There. I said it. After drudging at a million crappy jobs I hated for people I hated even more, I finally have a job I like and a boss I love like family. It took us a while to get used to each other, but she's a wonderful, kind, understanding person who puts up with my quirks, foibles and weird time schedules as long as I get the work done. If having a boss I love doesn't turn you pea green with envy, nothing will.
6. I am fat and happy. OK. Not all the time, but most of the time. I mean winter is a great time to have your own natural insulation but to be fat in summer can be a tad trying. It's only April and I'm already up to four showers a day. By July it will be six and by August eight but you can be fat and clean or fat and stay home. I will be fat and clean.
However I refuse to feel guilty for being fat. Lately it seems every media outlet is on this bent to make fat people feel guilty like smokers. Smokers and fat people are the last people in America to say, 'Screw it, if I die early, that's my own damn business.' Only problem is, it seems smokers want to take everyone else with them whereas fat people really do die on the weight of their own merits. If you are fat and a smoker, well damn. That's some Fight Club type death wish stuff I just can't touch.
I went shopping the other day and although I think I had to try on stuff more than the usual skinny person, I found plenty of stuff to wear that looked great. Yet I have to endure "the look" from skinny women. You know, the look that you give a one-legged man in a wheelchair when you act like you're not staring but you are staring and you're all sad for him but trying not to show it. Yeah, that look. Well cut it out. For me and the one-legged man.
For now, I try to get more exercise (OK, I will stop shirking walking the dogs, I swear) and we definitely eat better (more veggies and chicken, less beef, pork and potatoes). Lately I'm drinking less soda and more orange juice and water. I've lost 15 pounds since last August (totally by accident, but I'll tell you, getting a job that keeps me running up and down stairs instead of sitting on my ass answering phones and hitting the vending machine every 15 minutes has done wonders, not to mention the lack of stress) and I'm looking forward to losing some more but I'm not in a hurry. My man still enjoys the shade. Take that skinny women!
OK, now that you know more about me than you ever wanted to, let's move on to the tag. Paticipate if you wish.
A Goofy Ass Emotional Chick
TO Mama at MUBAR
Nick Spencer
David Cowan at Who Has Time For This
Moreena at Falling Down Is Also a Gift
Tag, you're it.
Six Things That May Make You Like Me Less.
Gosh this was hard to write. I tried to decide whether I should go for the "harmlessly benign" or "I'm going to regret this honesty" and decided on honesty. You may really just like me less after this. Read it all the way through before you decide.
Here goes.
1. I have a horrible, screaming, throwing things, insane psycho bitch temper for exactly one week every month thereby perpetuating the stereotype for all women.
I am the one they write sitcom sketches about. Three weeks out of every month I am fine. My normal personality is laid back, easy going, thoughtful and kind. I can weather even the worst traumas, emergencies and tragedies with aplomb. Catch me on the wrong week and you will hate me. I am bloated, depressed, irritable, angry and I will fucking cut your throat and eat your liver if you so much as look at me cross-eyed. It takes a few days and then I go through a weepy stage where I walk around tearily issuing blanket apologies for anything that I may have said or done to piss you off in the past week that I may not have cared about at the time and conveniently don't remember.
2. Sometimes I lie to Ye Old Matey and say I forgot to walk the dogs when what really happened is I was just procrastinating watching the Brady Bunch on TV Land or blogging or reading someone else's blog and I just ran out of time and had to make a last second dash to work. I'm not late if I get there before everyone else and the blasted dogs are hell to walk. He goes to work early and gets home early so they can wait a leetle while. Sometimes. Sorry for that mess in the garage the other day, honey. I hope he never reads this. He is going to have a fit.
3. I don't like white people, black people, Americans or foreigners, native borns or immigrants, Catholics or Protestants, Jews or Gentiles, Democrats or Republicans, conservatives or liberals, ghetto people or bourgeois people, men or women, blonds or brunettes or stupid people who think labels that divide us more than unite us are really important. Well, maybe except for the Men / Women thing. I don't like unisex public bathrooms so that may just be an important distinction. For the record, I do like moms, dads, geeks, smart people, friendly people, quirky people and the occasional cute puppy, kitten or kid. I probably like you, just not everyone else. Mean people, go away.
4. I do not do dishes. Two years ago, six years into my relationship with Ye Old Matey, I stopped doing dishes. I will clean everything else in the house but I hate cooking and dishes and I just won't do it anymore. I can cook, but he does it better. He's more organized (he could show Martha Stewart a thing or two) whereas my cooking style is a tad more chaotic (no one will notice the dishes piled under the sink for a while, will they?) So, I quit doing KP except for emergencies (like when he's sick or for special holiday stuff). He doesn't like it much but since he doesn't have to clean anything else except the dogs he doesn't complain much either.
5. I like my boss. There. I said it. After drudging at a million crappy jobs I hated for people I hated even more, I finally have a job I like and a boss I love like family. It took us a while to get used to each other, but she's a wonderful, kind, understanding person who puts up with my quirks, foibles and weird time schedules as long as I get the work done. If having a boss I love doesn't turn you pea green with envy, nothing will.
6. I am fat and happy. OK. Not all the time, but most of the time. I mean winter is a great time to have your own natural insulation but to be fat in summer can be a tad trying. It's only April and I'm already up to four showers a day. By July it will be six and by August eight but you can be fat and clean or fat and stay home. I will be fat and clean.
However I refuse to feel guilty for being fat. Lately it seems every media outlet is on this bent to make fat people feel guilty like smokers. Smokers and fat people are the last people in America to say, 'Screw it, if I die early, that's my own damn business.' Only problem is, it seems smokers want to take everyone else with them whereas fat people really do die on the weight of their own merits. If you are fat and a smoker, well damn. That's some Fight Club type death wish stuff I just can't touch.
I went shopping the other day and although I think I had to try on stuff more than the usual skinny person, I found plenty of stuff to wear that looked great. Yet I have to endure "the look" from skinny women. You know, the look that you give a one-legged man in a wheelchair when you act like you're not staring but you are staring and you're all sad for him but trying not to show it. Yeah, that look. Well cut it out. For me and the one-legged man.
For now, I try to get more exercise (OK, I will stop shirking walking the dogs, I swear) and we definitely eat better (more veggies and chicken, less beef, pork and potatoes). Lately I'm drinking less soda and more orange juice and water. I've lost 15 pounds since last August (totally by accident, but I'll tell you, getting a job that keeps me running up and down stairs instead of sitting on my ass answering phones and hitting the vending machine every 15 minutes has done wonders, not to mention the lack of stress) and I'm looking forward to losing some more but I'm not in a hurry. My man still enjoys the shade. Take that skinny women!
OK, now that you know more about me than you ever wanted to, let's move on to the tag. Paticipate if you wish.
A Goofy Ass Emotional Chick
TO Mama at MUBAR
Nick Spencer
David Cowan at Who Has Time For This
Moreena at Falling Down Is Also a Gift
Tag, you're it.
My normal PMS is being really crabby for a day, and then I'm done. Imagine my surprise last week when I spent 3 days bursting into tears for no apparent reason. I was so relieved to find out that there actually was a reason, because I am so not a crier.
ReplyDeleteOh, you lucky duck. PMS has been a lifelong issue for me. From being suspended from school to actually getting fired once for a tantrum I had back when I was in my mid-20's.
ReplyDeleteAfter that incident I learned to use a calendar and excercise some self-control. I've learned that laughter and a better diet go a long way to keeping me from getting angry, but the teary-eyed crying jags...there is no cure for those. However people will accept tears a lot better than they will a phone upside the head.
I'm staying clear of this one... I know better.
ReplyDelete