A Teeny Tiny Sample

Sukie and I have been at a conference all week. I'm already tired of most of the people. I can only take so much human interaction in one day. Sukie and I sit in the back and write snarkie notes to one another. There are a couple of "PhD types" at this conference. There is one in particular who has the "I'm a little short man and my mother thought way too much of me" syndrome. Who marries this man? Anyway, I digress. When I first met him, he about squeezed my hand off with his "I'm short but don't mess with me" handshake. I didn't think too much of it. Then he started to present. I'll call it present for lack of a better term. It was soooo boring. Why do these type of people think it's acceptable to just spout off facts he or she learned in graduate school? I can read! Give me some interaction. Give me some innovative ideas. Give me some caffeine. Don't leave a girl hanging like that.

Today was the worst day. Two other participants got up to give a presentation. They did not just spout off facts from well-known authors. They were trying to give others some practical ideas that the participants could use in the workplace. Throughout the entire presentation, "little short man" smirked. He refused to participate in anything that they did until another participant basically told him to suck it up and do it. He then went on to openly laugh at what the two participants were asking him to do. I really wanted to ask him what was so funny or to just fucking leave.

Do you think he is like this because he's short and dull? Or is it because he was condition to think that PhD means something more than you continued your education and are now in debt? Or perhaps he has a small dick and his wife doesn't like to give it up? Whatever his problem is, I hope he fixes it before tomorrow. I can't stand another day of this!

Don't Need Nothin' But a Good Time

Sukie and I rocked out at the Ratt/Poison concert last night. It was awesome! I jumped around and shook my ass to all of the great hair metal classics: Talk Dirty To Me, Fallen Angel, Look What the Cat Dragged In, and Round and Round. Bret Michaels can still wear a pair of blue jeans like no other. The man has it! In an odd twist of events, Edwin McCain appeared on stage with Poison and played a few songs. Bizarre, but nice! There is a story here, though. Sukie and I had good seats until the frat boys showed up. Now, these weren't REAL frat boys. These were guys who were too old to still be frat boys. So, they sit down and try to talk to us. We ignore them. They continue to try and talk to us. We continue to ignore. One asks me if I really like Ratt. What?!? Why did you come to the show, ass hat, if you don't even like Ratt? Actually, I called him a poser. Intermission came, and the really annoying frat boy sat beside me. He started asking me all kinds of questions. Eventually, it came out that he was married to this bitch I went to high school with. He asks if we were friends, and I tell him we were great friends because I knew this would piss her off. He calls her to tell her who he is sitting beside. Don't you know she hated that. I don't know what happened, but when he got off of the phone, he called her a stupid fucking bitch. Nice, huh? I continue to make fun of him and be cruel. He's too drunk to notice. He continues to try and buy me beer. I refuse the potential roofie-laced beverage. Like I would accept a beer from a strange and annoying little troll! Then, before Poison can even take the stage, the little troll passes the fuck out! His friend leaves for awhile. Sukie and I can't decide if we should steal all of his money or perhaps draw on him with a Sharpie. We finally decide to take a photo. Here you go! For all of you who wonder if the "mean" girl in your high school still has it made, she doesn't. She's married to this sorry asshole. Enjoy! (Sorry it is so dark. We were at a concert.)

To Climb or Not to Climb...

That is the question. It seems like everyone at our company has been scheming and trying to climb the corporate ladder. It's the time of year when the new budgets come out, the evaluations come out, and the claws come out! Sukie and I try to work on projects together because we compliment each other. I wear push-up bras to our presentations, and she's the brains behind the whole operation. Just kidding! :) We think about things in very different ways. If you put us together, we rock. I had someone try and talk me into ditching Sukie on the latest project we are working on. I know there are people like this out there, but it really just made me terribly disappointed. In some ways, I was insulted that this person would even think I could be so low. My code of ethics in business is pretty basic. I treat others the way I want to be treated. I'll never be rich, but I'll never go home feeling like a dick either. Money just doesn't do much for me besides pay my bills. I didn't really know what to say to this person. I sort of brushed it off, but I was still upset an hour later. I called Sukie and told her what happened. She wasn't surprised. I just wanted to be up front with her because you know how shit gets all twisted up once people start talking. While I want to do great things at my job, fucking people over just isn't one of them. I very well may stay at the bottom of my corporate ladder, but I'm coming to terms with that. I loathe the people that are climbing it or have climbed it before me. I really don't respect any of them. I respected one, but after today I don't. Does anyone think these people are really happy?

The Swear Jar

I got this idea from an email someone sent me. I would LOVE to work in an environment with a swear jar. The idea is that every time someone swears he or she puts a quarter in the jar. At the end of the week, you get to buy booze with the swear jar money. Since The Bitches of Eastwick was started by Sukie and I as a "rant" blog, I thought this would be a great place for a swear jar. Please leave some inventive and swear-filled rants, along with suggestions for what we should do with our swear jar money. Without further adieu, let the motherfuckin' swearing begin, bitches!

When Hair Metal Ruled the World

I love hair metal. It's happy music with hot guys in tight pants singing. There really isn't a lot not to like about it. There are no social issues to deal with or really heavy topics. Basically, these guys sing about drinking, doing drugs, and having sex. Rock on! My top ten hair metal picks are:
10. Wait White Loin
9. Pour Some Sugar on Me Def Leppard
8. Living on a Prayer Bon Jovi
7. Kiss Me Deadly Lita Ford (I know she's a girl, but I loved the song)
6. Round and Round Ratt
5. 18 and Life Skid Row
4. I Remember You Skid Row (What can I say? I loved Sebastian Bach's hair)
3. Here I Go Again Whitesnake
2. Shout at the Devil Motley Crue (Not sure if they are official hair metal, but I love me some Tommy Lee)
1. Talk Dirty to Me Poison (Mmmm...Bret Michaels)

I started thinking about this today because Bret Michaels has a new VH1 show coming out soon. Apparently, he is going to choose a girlfriend on this show. It's called "Rock of Love." You can go here for a little snippet: http://www.vh1.com/shows/dyn/rock_of_love/series_about.jhtml


So, is this a little desperate? Is there any doubt that he will pick a lady (?) full of silicone and loaded down with fake tanner? Is it ok that I will still watch every minute of it? :)

Total BS

First, how much does this man love war??? Come on, Bushie, how many troops do you think we have to defend freedom? How about giving peace a chance, man?

Second, have you heard of Mike Rogers? He has this blog called blogactive.com. On it, he outs gay politicians (he is himself gay). At first, when I heard about him (he's quite the terror in Washington, D.C., with politicians fearing making his hit list), I thought, well, it's not really fair for him to out people who don't want to be outed--that's a personal decision that he shouldn't get to make for other people.

But then I realized that he only outs the hypocrites--most often the ones who vehemently oppose gay rights. He only targets gay politicians who consistently vote against gay rights. Says he, "For me what it's really about is if congressman X thinks that gay people shouldn't have equal rights but goes home and is having sex with men, and not disclosing that, then we have a problem." I figure that's pretty fair. I mean, how can you be gay but promote the idea that it's wrong by supporting legislation that denies equal rights to gay people?

That's BS, so I think it's ok that Mike outs those guys online. That's what they get.

Finally, this is the biggest load of crap! PS: teens have sex--with other teens! Ah! I know: shocking. Convicting and punishing a 17-year-old for having consensual oral sex with his 15 year-old girlfriend is just plain stupid. STUPID, I tell you. Oh wait, though, if he's just f*cked her, he'd have been ok--it's the fact that he used his tongue on her genitalia that got him locked up. Georgia is a stupid state. Even worse: this kid will be labeled by the system as a "child molester" forever. Ri-freakin-diculous.

When Jesus is Your Fuckin' Co-Pilot!

I was making dinner tonight when I got a phone call from a nice, strange man. He told me that Mr. Bitchford had been in a car accident, and this nice man had stopped to sit with him and call me. I arrived and saw Mr. Bitchford pinned in our Miata. Freaked me out! The gas tank was up against his back! I found out later that while Mr. Bitchford was sitting at the red light, along with the woman in front of him, a geriatric (87 year-old man), came flying down the highway and hit him. He never hit his brakes! He could have killed Mr. Bitchford! Luckily, Mr. Bitchford is going to be ok. He's freaked out, upset about his car, and VERY sore. The officer came to talk to me at the hospital, and he started to tell me about the nice old man. First of all, I had already told an eight-year-old, mouthy girl if she touched me again I was going to rip her braids out. I was not in the mood for crap, especially from an Eastwickean. I told the officer that I didn't care about the old man, and that I just wanted Mr. Bitchford to be ok, and I would be on my way. He told me I shouldn't talk like that. Why? Because Jesus may fly down from his velvet throne and zap me with lightning? Because God meant for this to happen to me to make me stronger? Or perhaps I should feel sorry for the asshole because he is eighty fucking seven, and shouldn't be driving? AHHHHH! I told him that I would "be" however I wanted to be. So, now we have to try and get whatever we can for the car. You know how insurance companies never want to give you what your car is actually worth. Mr. Bitchford loved that car, and I just feel like total shit for him. This is what happens when Jesus is your fuckin' co-pilot!

Krispie Kreme

I had a strange encounter today. I was bopping along in my little car with The Little Willies blasting and all of the windows down. I was feeling good today because my doggie seems to be feeling better. Her meds are really working for her, and she seems very comfortable. Plus, it didn't hurt that I got a killer new haircut:) So, I'm pulling out of work today, and I see her. Krispie Kreme. This is the name that I gave the lady who made my life miserable from December 2000 to August 2003. I had just graduated from college, and I was soooo excited because I landed a federal job doing "techy" things for the government. I thought it was going to be so cool. Well, it wasn't, and I met Krispie Kreme there. She was the bitchest, bitch I have ever met. She was and probably still is pure evil. I call her Krispie Kreme because she could polish off a dozen every morning. I shit you not! It was pretty cool to just watch her work her way through them. Anyway, I digress. Krispie Kreme decided that she hated me. She would break into my file drawer and take the original copies of case files and destroy them. Guess who would end up getting in trouble? You got it. Me! So, this happened twice, and I started to catch on. I went to my boss, and she told me that KK had done this to the last girl. What?!?!? Why not fire her you ask? Because that would be way too easy. So, my boss orders me a new file cabinet. Things were fine for a few weeks, but then KK started to get restless. Maybe it was all of the glaze tumbling around in her belly. She comes in my office one day and tells me that she has been raped. Well, I'm mortified, and I'm trying to figure out how to talk to her. I felt really bad because she had lied to me so much that I was having a hard time believing her. I didn't feel like I could go to my boss because if she had been raped, then it wasn't up to me to tell something like that to another person. I sat and listened to her. I never asked any questions because honestly I was freaked out. Here is this woman who hates me, yet she is telling me about this horrible thing that has happened to her. Well, she had given me all of these details, and I was pretty upset. I talked to her that morning, and then she said she was ok and was going to go back to her office. I sat there with my morning coffee sans doughnut and began reading the news. Right there on the front page was the same story that Krispie Kreme had just told me. Only it had happened to a local college student and not a 40ish woman! I wanted to believe her, but then I showed it to my boss. My boss was like, "Yeah. She reads stuff in the papers and then says that it happened to her." What the fuck, lady? That's called crazy where I am from. I never confronted Krispie Kreme until a few months later when she crossed the line. We each had a "state" car because we were in the field a lot. I went out to mine one day, and the seat was run way back. Well, I'm really short, so I knew someone had been in it. I went to start it, and it wouldn't start. We found out that somebody had been messing with the car. I knew she had done it. We have to leave our keys in the office, so it would have been easy for her to do. I went back in, closed her office door, and went ballistic. I told her that if she ever talked to me again about anything, even if it was work related, that I would slap the shit out of her. I told her that I was willing to go to jail for assault. I also told her if she saw me on the street and even glanced my way that I would roll her tubby ass out into traffic and face the consequences later. Then I leaned over her desk and pulled everything on it into the floor. I finished it off with, "Bitch, I'm past angry, so don't even think of fucking with me." I left four months later. She didn't speak to me once. So, back to me bopping around in my car today. I'm pulling out of the work parking lot, and there's Krispie Kreme. I took complete and pure delight in the look of horror on her face as I pressed my gas pedal to the floor with the sweet sound of Norah Jones' voice blasting out of my windows. Take that Krispie Kreme!

You Know You're in Eastwick

Animals are People

I've been M.I.A. for the past few days. I found out that my beloved, 13 year old doggie has cancer. We've had to make the choice of whether to put her through chemo or not. We've decided not to go that route. It's so hard to make a decision for someone who can't speak to you, but my gut tells me it is what she wants. I've been through so much with this dog. We've gone on week long camping trips in the mountains. We've even rappelled off of a mountain together. She was strapped to me. :) She's gone to the beach and run through the waves. She's never been boarded. We've always taken her with us on any trip, and when we just couldn't take her, she would stay with her grandparents or close friends.

I was really torn up when I found this out. I took a nap with her yesterday, and I fell asleep with my arm around her. Her breathing was so soft, and it put me to sleep. I woke up, and I felt this peace come over me. I can't really explain it any other way. I love her, and I don't want her to die, but she has accepted that it is her time. I owe it to her to accept that, as well. We're going to do whatever it is she wants. So far, she has had a steak for dinner one night, gets to take as many walks as she wants, and gets to sit outside with me in the hammock as long as she wants. She will go visit her grandparents and aunt tomorrow. They have ducks, and she loves to play with them. Her aunt even has a special room that she likes to stay in. She's always been able to do these things, but they just seem so much sweeter now. I can honestly say that I have no regrets, and I hope she doesn't either.

I think she came into my life when I needed the type of friend who would just listen. I've grown up with her, and she knows things about me that no one else ever will. Her time will come soon. They've given her between two to four weeks. I hope it's peaceful. I love her. Thanks for listening.

what's wrong with america

I know...I'm a little video crazy lately, but this I couldn't NOT share:

This clip sums up everything that's wrong with America in just under 2 minutes.  Seriously, people, STOP letting your kids look up to the likes of Lindsay Lohan.  Unless of course you envision several stunts in rehab and irreparable psychological damage for your daughters.  Or you just want them to look like this:

Furthermore, $1300??  $1300??  Come on!  Think about the message that's sending to your poor daughters: your looks are so important that in, like, 8th grade you need to spend $1300 improving your childish good looks...by making you look less natural...because natural is ugly and fake is BEAUTIFUL.  Keep sending 'em to the tanning bed, keep forking over the big dough for improvements, so one day they can look like this:

 Now, that's beauty. That's what our young women today should strive for.  Thanks moms.  Thank you so much for pushing these girls so hard, for funding them without discretion.  I look forward to a society even more filled with over-entitled, over-tanned, over-surgically-altered young women...and the inevitabe increase of depression, anxiety, and suicide.