Wednesday, March 20, 2013

That really chaps my ass

Some things just really chap my ass. I'm not referring to scratchy granny panties. One of my biggest pet peeves is women hating on women - for no reason other than they are both women. I see it all the time in the corporate world. If there is a woman in a powerful role at work, other women will hate her. And it fucking disgusts me. Ladies that were once friends become jealous, conniving, bitter backstabbing cunt nuggets: "Look at Sally. She didn't deserve that position. I wonder how many dicks she had to suck to get that promotion."

Heaven forbid anyone actually remembers that Sally busted her ass working late, skipping lunches and making miracles happen to get projects completed. She wasn't slobbin' nobs and getting porked over the boss's desk when no one was looking. Why degrade Sally like that? Oh, because then you don't have to face the facts that your ass didn't get promoted...because you're a fucking slacker that leaves at 4:59pm every day, denies responsibility and never volunteers for complex projects.

Just yesterday another chic and I were discussing our company's CEO, who is female. My coworker was reaming the CEO for being a worthless twit with no sense about running a business. After listening to the twat waffle carry about how the CEO was "going to run the company into the ground because she doesn't know the first thing about business" I interrupted the tirade and received a blank stare for asking, "What makes you think she isn't capable?" Finally the judgmental dipshit stuttered, "Well, isn't it obvious?" Uhm...no. It isn't. She has the credentials to run the business. They didn't hire her because she has a great rack. I read the company reports and I know she's making changes that need to be made. Some of those changes are painful for people that don't accept change well. But if the company is to survive, they must be made.

It sickens me that women are less likely to judge a man's capability in running a business than they are to question another female's ability. Why the fuck do women turn on each other?? We should be supporting one another, doing booby bumps, slapping asses and high fiving the Bitch that had the guts to go against the grain and succeed in business. So the next time you want to slam another strong Bitch, step back and ask yourself what really pisses you off about the situation. Chances are that it's jealousy.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Funny Farm, population: 1

My mom and I have a strange relationship. I'm sane and she's batshit fucking crazy. If this were the late 1800's or early 1900's I would have taken her for a Sunday drive and checked her into the loony farm. I can't begin to explain how delusional she is, but I'm going to try.

Before you think I'm hating on my mother, let me just say I believe my mom is a saint in the fact that as a divorced mother of 4 kids in the 80's she did what she had to do to raise her kids. She worked 3 jobs to provide for me and my siblings. She made a lot of sacrifices. I know she loves all of us, although I'd say I'm by far the favorite. And really I can't blame her there. But I can't say we are particularly close. Hell, I can't have a 5 minute conversation with her without wanting to hang myself. In fact, any conversation with my mother is rather painful because Mom can't stay on topic. By that I mean, I could be talking about a play that the Tween is in and Mom veers off onto government conspiracy. Half the time she can't focus her thoughts. On a good day a conversation with her goes something like this:

*ring, ring* I look at my caller ID. Shit, it's Mom. *press ignore* Five minutes later *ring, ring*
Me: "Hello?"
<dead air>
Me: "Hello? Mom?"
<silence>
Mom: *clears throat three times* "Hello?"
Me: "Yes mom?"
Mom: "Who is this? Is Bitch there? I thought I was calling Bitch."
Me: "Mom, it is me."
Mom: "Oh....."
Me (getting exasperated by now): "What did you need, Mom?"
Mom: "Huh?"
Me: "MOM, Why.did.you.call?"
Mom: "Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you a question..............................."
Me: *sigh* "And that question is....?"
Mom: "Are the girls safe? Where's Baby Shit?"
Me: "Yes the girls are safe, and Baby Shit is napping in her crib."
Mom: "Are you sure? I had a premonition. She was in the bleach under the kitchen cabinet. Was the cabinet locked? Oh god! Go check on her, right now!"

In case you can't tell by that last bit of conversation, Mom thinks she's psychic. The amazing thing is, she can predict things that really happen.....but it's always after the fact. For example, an airplane crashes. Mom calls me and said, "I knew that was going to happen. I dreamed about it. If only I had seen the plane number I could have helped them by calling the airline and telling them they needed to cancel the flight. I couldn't get the plane number though. The plane didn't look quite right, it looked like a paper airplane, but I saw it crash. The meaning is the same." Right.....

In addition to being an after-the-fact psychic, Mom sees dead people. If she can't see them, she can feel their spirit. Mom has had many a conversation with ghosts that apparently lived with us over the years in various houses we moved to. Imagine a 9 year old child being told a headless ghost hangs out in the house and then leaving that kid home alone...at night. That's a fucking disaster in the making. I should know. I was that 9 year old child. 911 doesn't take you seriously when you call to report a ghost terrorizing you even though you're scared out of your fucking mind, shaking and barely controlling your bladder. Now I think "talking to dead people" is actually Mom having conversations with the voices in her head.

Mom is an expert on many things. Don't cough in front of her because she will diagnose you. And god forbid you fart and it smells funny because she'll think you're dying of something. See, Mom was once a medical transcriptionist. She wrote up doctor's diagnosis based on their voice recorded notes and now she thinks she's qualified to diagnose anyone. Oh, and while being a medical transcriptionist, she learned a lot about medications so don't get her started on big pharma's because she'll let you know what a bunch of crooks they are. This from a woman addicted to Vicodin and a few other pain meds. Irony, anyone?

Every kid thinks their parents are strange. I know my mom is strange. And crazy. Certifuckingfiable crazy. I have my suspicions that too much pot and maybe a few bad acid trips before I was born started her downward spiral. As the years have gone on, more of her mind has tripped out. Even the Tween knows Maw Maw is "different." For several years now the Tween and I have joked that Maw Maw is the Mayor of her own little Funny Farm, population: 1.

Mom is coming to visit for 5 days. She'll be here tonight and I'm not thrilled. She hasn't even arrived and already I'm looking forward to her leaving. Don't get me wrong, I love her and miss her, and I'm glad she's coming to visit because the Shits have really missed her since her January visit. But the only way I'm going to make it through the next 5 days is by heavily self-medicating. In fact, I've gotta go to the store right.this.instant so I can stock up on provisions - liquor.