It's NOT 1952!

I got good news this week. I no longer have to carry Private Mortgage Insurance on my home because I've paid over 20% of it off. Yea for me! I received a check today because I was owed a small amount of money as a difference in the last payment. $7.58! I know that's not a lot, but stay with me here. I get the check, and it is made out to my ex-husband. He's still on the mortgage, but he no longer owns the house. Long story short, he signed a piece of paper that he shouldn't have in the divorce. The outcome...I own the home, but we both are still on the mortgage loan. So, I call the insurance company that issued the check and explained my situation. They told me that I would have to mail proof to them that I own the home. What? But, my name is on the mortgage loan. That's how they got his name in the first place. I explain this to the woman. Silence. I say, "Don't you see my name on the loan?" She says, "Yes." I say, "Then can't you just issue me a check? Why would you send it just to him anyway. I'm on the loan." Silence. I say, "Does your company think it's still 1952 and that I'm Donna Reed? Why can't I get my $7.58 that you owe me?" She says, "Well, you'll just have to send proof." I screamed and hung up. Now I'm plotting my next attack. I will be calling this company in the morning and bitching some more. I will call them every morning until I get my check! I know it's just a few dollars, but it's mine. It's not my alcoholic, cheating, bad with money, balding, nerdy, piece of shit, cheap, asshole, useless ex-husband's!

Sex in the City

The Sex and the City movie will open in theaters tomorrow. I'm a huge fan, and I plan on dragging Sukie to this movie. I do have a few bones to pick before I see the movie. I decided to write a letter. Here it goes.

Dear Carrie Bradshaw,
You are a fucking liar. There is no way that you are a "writer" in New York and are able to spend the money you do. $40,000 worth of shoes? Really? Bitch, please. First of all, I don't believe it. Second of all, if it is true, you should be slapped. Hard. Let's now move on to your girlie breakfast time with Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda. Do you really want us to believe that you have a nice apartment, designer clothes, designer shoes, and you get to eat breakfast out...in the city...every day...on a writer's salary? Again. Not buying it.
On the other hand, I do appreciate the escape from reality that you provided me every Sunday night for an hour. It was nice to pretend that one could live that lifestyle and really be content and happy. I shall be at your movie with bells on. I know you won't disappoint.
Sincerely,
Alex

P.S. I read somewhere that Miranda was the true sexual freak because nice girls don't dye their hair that color. Is this true?

P.S.S. Tell Mr. Big that I would totally do him.

Off the Market

A woman I work with, the Peroxide Queen, has recently taken to the Internet to find a man. I've had SO much fun with this! She's not off to a great start, so I thought I would look on Craigslist and see what people had to offer. Here is what I found in the men seeking women section.

Looking for gold in a field of boogers. - 37
Points for creativity? I don't know.

Looking For A Lady with a Love for Anal - 50
Who isn't about the anal love? ;)

Looking for lunch and a midday frolic - 42
If I were single, I would so call him.

44yr old Business Owner seeking 20-something woman - 44
Yeah. You and every other nasty fucker, buddy.

Dating or Cunilingus - 22
Not a good speller. At least he's a giver?

Free Male Masturbation Show for You or Your Friends! - 30
I would seriously like to call him. "Masturbation man? This is Alexandra. I would like to bring all of my girlfriends over and watch you whack off." Ugh!

Athletic & Successful Guy Looking for Sexy, Intelligent Female - 27
What do you want to bet he lives with his parents?

I'm glad I'm off the market. I do feel bad for Peroxide Queen. Who knows? Maybe her love is waiting to whack off for her as we speak.

I took detailed notes

So Mr. Dumbshit starts off the meeting today, giving his little spiel. Here are my notes from that part:

• Module is not a verb. You can't say "We module to X." I moduled to work today? I module in my spare time? No, that's a noun, jackass.


• Ummm...no, that's not really true at all. Does he know the meaning of the word overt?


• I should not be allowed in meetings with him anymore because I can NOT maintain a neutral expression (FYI: Alex later confirmed this is very true--I failed again).


• OMG--that's a BLATANT, bold-faced lie! WTF!?!?!


• I need a pill before I lose it.

Then it was our turn, and of course, we rocked the house. We whipped up a PowerPoint, gave our little spiel and handouts, and everyone loved us. That's because we're not slack-asses--even when we have less than a day to prepare. So, there (she said, pushing imaginary paper in Mr. Dumbshit's direction).

Sukie and Alex Ride the Bus Part 2

Today was an interesting bus day. We arrived at our stop, and we were "greeted" by a bunch of teenagers. They were dressed like most teenagers in our area...baggy jeans, gold chains, hats, and oversized t-shirts. They were also loud. Not just loud, but really gross and rude kind of loud. Pretty much any variety of the word fuck was screamed. They were all black and felt the need to make fun of all the white people on the bus. They were screaming stuff like, "Look at Forrest run! Dumb motherfucker!" This is pretty typical of Eastwick. It's racially divided. The young adult sitting behind me was watching raunchy rap videos on his/her Ipod and screaming something about naked bitches doing lap dances.

The bad thing is that it made me realize why people don't believe in social programs and/or their tax dollars going to public education. It made me think about why I vote like I do. Are my tax dollars really helping these young people? Are they really getting the type of education they need? I'm not even talking about academics, but just about human decency. None was present on the bus today; however, I did see one young girl sitting up front. She had her Ipod on, and she was busy highlighting a textbook. I'm sure it isn't easy for her to ignore the others. She might even get made fun of for studying. When I run into the fucktards of society, like I did today, I try to remember that the majority is not like this. Most people who need a little help really want to make something of themselves.

On a side note, the little fuckers got trapped at our bus stop because the other bus wasn't running on Memorial Day. Take that you foul mouthed bitches! ;)

Dumbshit Should be His Name

I really like it when my project director schedules a meeting with people from an outside company--at which we are supposed to report on the project and how it's going--and he e-mails my team and I Monday morning to tell us about said meeting, which is tomorrow.

It is even more annoying that he writes, "Don't forget the meeting w/ X tomorrow" when he never even fucking told us there was going to be a meeting tomorrow until today!

What a fucking idiot.

I want to shoot myself in the head.
Instead, I'll go work on that presentation.

Ahhh...The Smokey Aroma

I was going through some boxes in the attic, and I found a treasure from my teenage years. It was a Skid Row t-shirt! I loved Sebastian Bach. The hair, the lips, the long and lean body, everything. He was perfection to me. I still love the look, but I now refer to it as the smokey aroma. I have taken shit for liking kinda dirty, long haired men for awhile. Everyone thinks it's funny and out of character for me. I don't care. I still love me some smokey aroma. Here is a tribute to my Skid Row t-shirt. May it rest in peace because it will never again stretch across my breasts.