Wednesday, December 26, 2012

A Rant

Today I am rather bored.

So now that the internet knows I am pregnant, I want to talk about it.  Like, why is it still there, in my belly?  Will I be able/want to wear all of my sweet shoes and heals after the child is born?  Doubtful.  I don't even want to wear them now.  Or my makeup.  I spent three years practicing and learning how to look and dress like a young professional woman, and now it's all for naught.  Why couldn't I just stay who I was when I started working?  Okay, I don't blame the baby for that, I blame my job for that.  If you work for old white men, they expect you to act like old white men.  And even if they don't...they don't get any of your jokes about velociraptors, putting faces on office supplies, leaving snarky but harmless notes on the food.  And they jokes they do understand, like pirate jokes, they make you tell everyone else, three times a year, every year for the rest of your life.  I no longer like pirate jokes that much.  And nothing is more disturbing to the people in the office than a snarky note left on the addictive peanut butter filled pretzel bites about how addictive they are.

There is a cow stress "ball" (it's cow shaped) on the edge of a framed mirror in my office.  It's up high near the ceiling.  Once a month coworker who has never noticed before, or noticed and forgot that they noticed, points it out to me with "Oh look it's a cow.  Cow. Look at your moo cow.  How did he get there?" Then I cut them.  There is a price tag on the mirror, the glass part.  My mom bought the mirror when I was in 8th grade from a yard sale.  My dad made the frame for it.  And neither of them ever took the price tag why should I?  Every single one of my coworkers has seen it and tried to rip it off, without asking me, right in front of me.  Why do people think that's okay?  It's on there pretty ain't coming off.  I have since covered it with a feather so people don't get bothered by it.

The other day I was on my way back from lunch with coworkers, and I we were talking about being new to the city and driving around and finding what roads go where and such.  I was trying to say "I don't let my fear of being lost stop me from driving on new roads." And it came out "I don't be afraid of gettin' lost".  Which is how my grammar used to be.  My coworker laughed and said "You are too light skinned to be talking like that!"  What!?!?  Thanks for the racist comment.  I like to hang around opinions like that. Not. 

All I did for the last three months was sleep, sleep, and avoid people.  I did not puke once. The best part is how hungry I am.  Like real hunger.  I stopped eating over the summer on my travels, and I knew I was hungry because my stomach hurt or sometimes I thought I was going to pass out.  So I ate some nuts and berries, or a banana.  And I'd go home and have dinner, whatever.  Then, one day, I was all, I'm eating breakfast!  What?!?!  Sandwich for lunch!!!!  "I know we are in the middle of a timed scavenger hunt, but team....I need to stop and eat!"  OMG! DINNER!!!!!!!!!!

Our grocery billed doubled and it was incredibly hard to keep enough food in the house.  If you are getting worried that I am eating too much to be a proper woman, that I am not maintaining my weight to remain desirable for my husband, don't. While exclaiming my new found delight in food and a healthy hunger, I was warned not to get too fat.  We woman can't enjoy life unless we starve ourselves into skinniness.

And you know who's the worst?  Ackbar!!  He's always wanting me to bend over and feed him.  Bend over and get his food out of the bag.  Bend over and pet him.  Bend over and pick him up.  It's only three months and I can't bend over any more! My back hurts sooo much.  Ugggh.  And people keep posting pictures on facebook of kids being naughty, or pictures on the internet of "funny" kids:  Kids who broke all of the eggs in the refridgerator onto the floor.  Kids with poop everywhere.  Kids spilling milk.  I dont' know..everything else kids do.  No privacy, no more sleep, teenagers with boyfriends or girlfriends in the house.  Not getting angry and keeping a level head when fighting with a child (not my strong point...I yell at the cat a lot or try to hit him back).  I need to get them a proper house.  I need to have people over, participate in community events, join groups to properly socialize the kids.  Teach them charity and how to save their money. 

I should make a spreadsheet/timeline that directs me when to do each item and when to teach them each life lesson.  Because that'll work good. ;)


suekimmy said...

I would love to help you with that spreadsheet. :) But really, it's so much easier than the interwebs make it seem.

Unknown said...

I don't be afraid of getting lost either. Nor would I try to steal your price tags from you.

I, too, work with old white men. Hahahaha.

Unknown said...

"Unknown" was Laura. Not sure why I must be anonymous.

diane/mom said...

Excellent book I am reading: "Cheaper By the Dozen". Bought for Ryan but she explains that she has a copy because it was one of her most favorite books ever. In other words, don't worry, some people have had 12 children and survived. And it does get easier the more you have. Make them look out for one another, and you. Smile. Everything is gonna be alright. And you should read this book too.