Showing posts with label rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rants. Show all posts

Sunday, October 19, 2008

On Notice (again): My Uterus


This is your second notice.

Look, we’ve been working together for 21 years now. We ought to be able to come to some kind of agreement. Yes, I know our 4 years with IUD were great. But you just can’t invite Fibroid into the mix and expect everything to be hunky dory. I replaced IUD, thinking she was burned out from the increased squabbling, but her replacement lasted less than 30 days. Boy was I pissed when I realized that Fibroid was to blame – and you’ve been enabling him this whole time. In fact, you are the only reason he showed up in the first place.

Since you ignored repeated requests to sever all ties with Fibroid, I took the advice of a consultant and implemented a 3 month leave of absence, with the option of only requiring your services once per quarter afterwards. You were notified in a timely manner and you were provided with the necessary resources to adjust to this new performance plan.

You can imagine my surprise when you showed up for work, an overachieving 4 days earlier than your normal schedule - and a full two months prior to when our agreed-upon trial separation was to end. While I admire your enthusiasm and dedication, please know that this constitutes insubordination and will not be tolerated.

Not only have you disobeyed strict orders from upper management, but you have obviously misinterpreted the terms of our renegotiated contract, including:
  • Transitioning to a 12 week cycle, NOT a 3.5 week cycle,
  • A decrease in output, not an increase (as counterintuitive as that may be), and
  • A dramatic slash in excruciating pain and constant nausea. Your 2% reduction is just not going to cut it.

I think it’s only fair that I give you until the end of the quarter to make improvements. Please be advised that corrective action will be taken if adequate progress has not been made.

P.S. You can create your own "On Notice" board here.

Friday, October 10, 2008

Ditching FeedBlitz

Gentle Reader,

I have decided to ditch FeedBlitz. Why? I dunno. Cuz I want to. Or maybe because they just asked me for way too much personal information. My street address is required you say? Oh... in that case... it's 1234 Noneya Dam Bidness in Armpit, VA.

For those of you who are subscribing to my blog through FeedBlitz, you'll want to find another way to stay up-to-date on the latest musans. May I suggest an RSS feed? No, I'm not going to explain RSS to you. Quoth my colleague, "Put on your big girl panties and deal with it." So go google "RSS." You'll find charming articles like this one:

How to explain RSS the Oprah way

I'll be nuking FeedBlitz sometime this weekend.

Tah tah!
Susan

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Sparky's Blogosphere Debut

I couldn't resist sharing this (with permission, of course). This is a letter written by my good friend, "Sparky," to a mutual acquaintance. We'll call her "K." K invited a number of friends to someone else's Pure Romance party, but failed to make an appearance herself. I may or may not have been in attendance. (Hi Mom!)

K! Where the HELL were you? Nothing like two old geezers showing up to a very straight sex toy party and not knowing a damn soul. I now need two pitchers of margaritas, a very long shower to get the twenty-two different lotions, lubricants, and pheromones off my body. And at least six extra therapy sessions.

Now as for the trauma your friends experienced by our mere presence, I cannot fully take responsibility. Why you ask? Because the person who invited us was NOT there.

Although I must say that with our costly purchases, Cassandra has enough hostess credits to buy toys to last her for the next forty years.

Hugs and Kisses!!!
Sparky

Friday, September 26, 2008

Under Pressure

Today I noticed that my car wasn’t running as smoothly as it should. As I was driving around I thought, "Hmmm... seems like the front right tire might need a bit of air..."

Okay, ladies: no matter what the circumstances are, guys are going to stare at any woman checking her tires. No matter what you’re wearing, no matter what you look like, no matter how young or old you are, no matter how hard you try to bend over in a way that won't draw too much attention to your ass and/or breasts – they're gonna stare. I'm no guy, so I can't tell you what they're thinking, but I'll go out on a limb here and say that, 'Holy shit! It's a woman checking her tires!" is at least part of it. There's no way to just 'blend in.' You will be noticed.

That being said...

I pulled over at a gas station. Checked all four tires. Popped my two quarters into the machine. Did my best minimize 'the view,' and started adding air to the front right tire. Checked the tire pressure again. No change. Added more air. Checked the tire pressure again. Still no change. Hmmm. Added more air. Checked the tire pressure again. Still no change. What the hell? I know I had the nozzle correctly seated in the valve. I know I was squeezing the right lever (ya know, the only lever). I know how use a tire pressure gauge. THIS IS NOT A COMPLICATED PROCESS! I inspected my gauge. There was bit of grease on the readout, which could’ve been the reason why the stupid thing kept stopping at 26 psi. Okay... so I wiped that onto my shirt and tried again. Damn! As I was checking to see if the air coming out of the pump had much force behind it - looking quite perplexed as I sprayed air at my other hand - I looked up and saw a gentleman watching me while he was filling his tank.

Great. Just the image I was going for. A dumb blonde who can’t figure out how to work the air "thingie."

Now I’m pissed. Determined to at least appear to have a few neurons firing in my brain, I added more air. Then I released a lot, knowing full well that by now I had overinflated the damn thing. Then proceeded to fiddle around. Moved to the rear tire. Fiddled around some more. Once the pump shut off, I coolly hung the hose up and walked back to my car. Yep. I properly inflated all four tires. You just didn’t see me do the driver's side cuz, uh, I did that before you pulled up. Yeah. Bye now.

I know it wasn’t me. I know it was that stupid gauge. It had to have been! I drove over to Advance Auto to replace the treasonous bitch. Why is it that whenever you go into Advance, all the clerks are busy helping customers? WTF? I just need a tire pressure gauge. Stop laughing. While I might not know my way around the rows of car parts, I do know that they keep this kind of thing out in plain sight near the front, and I’m pretty sure I can determining the right one for the make, model, and year of my car. Der. My point is that I had to wait forever for someone to ring up my costly purchase. [Jesco? Anyone? Anyone???]

And by the way... gals... don’t buy one with a digital readout, or one that talks to you, or has any other unnecessary feature that involves a battery. The battery will die before the next time you remember to pull it out of the glove box again. And if it looks like metal, but feels like plastic – go up a level. Go ahead. Splurge.

So I get back in my car, wondering how far I need to drive to the next air pump in order to avoid my previous witnesses... and it started to rain.

I give up.


You may have won this round - but I swear I’m gonna get you back tomorrow, you rubber rolling bastards! When I’m through with you *shakes fist* you’re gonna be so properly full of air you won’t know what hit ya!

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

I forgot to mention:


I hate plastic-coated paper clips. They infuriate me. I'm not kidding.

On Notice: My Uterus



I woke up this morning ready to sit down and compose a carefully worded letter to my uterus. Apparently I'm not the only one blogging about this topic - so I'll let the other gals speak for me. Bravo, ladies!

Tesserewhon's memo

A letter from Lotus

Nutcase 101 has a few words of her own.

Something from Awkwardly Social

And this one sparked quite a few replies - even from the menfolk.

Uterus: even though these gals beat me to it, don't think for a minute that you are off the hook. You are officially 'On Notice.'

P.S. You can create your own "On Notice" board here.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Susan's Movie Musans: Mamma Mia

WARNING: This entry may violate my own code of blogging ethics (see April 3, 2008, "I'm baaaaaack!")

Mamma Mia SUCKED!!! I’m not a religious person - but OH SWEET MOTHER OF GOD GET THESE DAMN SONGS OUT OF MY HEAD!!! HOLY F***ING CHRIST that was probably the most excruciating movie I have EVER seen! It could be that I just didn’t “get it.” I have a feeling I’d need to be at least 10 years older and a fan of ABBA to truly – um, appreciate? – the pain and torture of this celluloid catastrophe. WTF was up with all the women in the theatre? I have never seen so many women get so into a movie. They were hootin’ and carrying on like school girls at a damn Elvis concert. What the hell???

As soon as I got in my car I popped in some Offspring, cranked it up as loud as I could stand it and went for a drive. Sure, Rage Against the Machine would probably have been more effective, but you gotta work with what you have, right? It wasn’t until I hit Narrows that I figured I should turn around and go back home. My bladder agreed.

I thought I had successfully purged the demons from my brain, but nooooooooo... as soon as my head hit the pillow those damn songs started replaying! And the dancing - dear god, the dancing!!! HELP ME!!! I NEED AN EXORCIST!!!



I'm sure some of you have a very different opinion of this creation. Go ahead. Flame me.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

C is for...


Unnamed Evil Menstrual Monster 'C.'

Crabby, cranky, and crass. Crazed by the cruelty of crippling cramps. Critical carbohydrate craving crisis. Crumbling into a crying clutter of crude crimson clots.

C is also for Chacos. At least my tootsies are comfortably content.

Monday, April 7, 2008

Susan's Menstrual Musans

Welcome to the very first "Too Much Information" edition of Susan's Musans. DISCLAIMER: This post may violate rules 1, 2, and 3 as outlined below (see April 3, 2008, "I'm baaaaaack!"). Any past, present, or potential employers, mothers, or suitors may wish to turn back before it's too late. You have been warned.

It appears that my cycle has shifted. "Aunt Flo" changed her flight and decided to visit early. Opening the door to see Aunt Flo's shining face is bittersweet. On the one hand, I'm relieved that I'm not pregnant - not that I'm sexually active. (Hi Mom!) No, every month I have this fear that I'll be the next winner in the Immaculate Conception Lottery and I'll have to dedicate my remaining years on this spiraling slab of asphalt behaving like the kind of mother worthy of introducing the next Messiah to the world. [*SHUDDER*] Thanks, but I believe I'll pass.

The "bitter" part of my reunion with Flo is realizing that one more egg has been flushed down the toilet. Yes, that's right folks - my biological clock has officially started ticking. I'm not sure when it started, but I just can't deny it any longer. This would be the part where any would-be suitors are supposed to turn and RUN LIKE HELL!!! Save yourselves! Retreat before you are trapped by the gravitational pull of my pheromones! If you're not scared yet - keep reading and discover what happens when my hormones run amok.

Back to the matter of Aunt Flo's change in travel plans... I'm not complaining about the rescheduling - quite the contrary. Flo's arrival is typically preceded by 7 days worth of raging hormonal turmoil, the worst of which falls during the work week and includes at least one day in which I am possessed by an evil and rather unruly demon - who needs a name, by the way... post a reply if you've got any suggestions... alliteration is a must...

Unnamed Evil Menstrual Monster 'A' ('A' is for 'Appetite') typically has me stomping around like Godzilla searching for comfort food, destroying anything or anyone who dares to stand in my way. Unnamed Evil Menstrual Monster 'A' usually appears on a Wednesday. Today is Monday. I'm guessing that the feedbag full of buttered popcorn I devoured Saturday night while watching Nim's Island must've warded off the beast like holy water and a garland of garlic. Speaking of garlic, I'm certain that the Pokey Sticks and garlic butter Friday night helped too. I also seem to have missed the presence of Unnamed Evil Menstrual Monster 'B' ('B' is for 'Bitch'). Either my body is getting accustomed to my pill-induced hormonal fluctuations, or I've stumbled upon the solution for minimizing the detrimental effects of PMS...

Thursday: first day without "active" pill - no noticeable side effects.

Friday: schedule an evening of margaritas (margaritas... menstruation... both start with an 'M'... coincidence? methinks not!), topped off with a healthy (?) dose of carbohydrates smothered in cheese.

Saturday: Sleep late. Very late. This minimizes the number of at-risk hours of consciousness being possessed by demons A & B. Replenish carbohydrates.

Sunday: Rinse. Repeat.

This may be superstition. I don't know. But like the winning quarterback wearing the same unwashed jockstrap all season, I'm willing to take one for the team.