Monthly Archives: March 2010

IDK, my BFF Jill? Or, Adventures of the Dramatic Teenage Girl

Remember when everything was the BEST or WORST thing ever to happen to ANYONE in the whole wide WORLD?

Remember when we were 13 and had our first “boyfriend” and we came home from school all gushing because “Bobby” wrote us a note and we loved him so much and he loved us and there were butterflies and rainbows following us around in the halls at school, and home on the bus, and all the way to family dinner where we gleefully shared the news with our parents? OR when we gleefully tried to hide it from our parents because we knew they hated boys of all shapes and sizes BUT they found out anyway all about us and “Bobby” and our “true love”? However the story went for you, I know you know what I’m talking about. Wasn’t it just the grandest time of our life? And then a week after he “asked us out” and we were “official” one of two things happened: 1) he met “Mindy” and her growth spurt happened before ours (bitch) so her ta-tas were enormous and he left us for her, a tragic event which gave us a bleak look into our future of being ousted by bustier biotches. Or 2) Dad found out, grounded us (“forever” probably), threatened a convent, Catholic boarding school for girls, and/or death, and we couldn’t see “Bobby” again after hours because we were so uncool. Thank GOD we had English class together, otherwise our heart would have been permanently broken for the REST of our LIFE and we NEVER would have recovered because dad is just SO MEAN and how could he DO this to us??? UGH life was so hard back then. If only we’d known it was just hormones we could have shrugged it off and told Bobby to go find some other bimbo. If only that “boys have cooties” thing stuck around into puberty, life would have been so much easier (although, really and truly who actually believed boys had cooties and actually wanted them to stay away? Don’t try to be the cool girl, you know it was all a ploy so they’d think we weren’t foolishly in love 24/7. I’m convinced boys are the only ones who ever actually believe in the cooties thing).

But wait, there’s more. Because THEN we started high school! Ah, high school. Such awesomely thrilling times to be had there, boys boys everywhere! And they were all after us because we had blossomed (Mindy got fat, ha!) and maybe we weren’t super popular but some of the cute ones liked us, still unsure of whether we’d “put out” or not. Well they’d find out, wouldn’t they? Then we went to homecoming and it was SO romantic and he brought a corsage AND a teddy bear and we thought OhmiGOSH we will live SO happily ever after it isn’t even funny. And we were dancing (leaving room for Jesus of course) and laughing and taking SUCH cute pictures together and we just knew every girl wanted to be us because we were so fab. Then we looked in the corner of the gym and there was DAD again! He was RUINING our lives and WHY couldn’t he just leave us alone for once for crying out loud?!?! [side note: if you are offended or becoming defensive at this little story, you need to re-examine your life, because girl, this was you no lie…that’s why I’m using “us” and “we” and the overly dramatic adjectives, it is not an accident.] Yes, he was there to “protect” us from big bad boys. UGH he didn’t know anything because obviously Bobby II was SO nice and he LOVED us too, more than the first Bobby even! And that was a lot. So there. But he didn’t listen to any of our arguments and still made us leave early and we missed out on ALL the fun.

Then we turned 16 (and 3 months, obviously) and had our *angels singing in the heavens* drivers license! BAM now it was freedom time! SIKE. Because now we had the EARLIEST curfew of ANYONE in the history of the WORLD (obviously we didn’t know about places like the middle east where women can’t even go out in public) and it was so UNFAIR. And of course he told us that “life wasn’t fair” and we could just deal with it or…yes, that’s right, go to a convent, Catholic boarding school for girls, or maybe military school, depending on how pissed off we made him. Then to make things worse, anytime a boy even came over just to hang out (geeze!), dad was all “checking on us” and stuff. Completely UNcool.  SO uncool, in fact, that boys really didn’t want to come over more than once or twice before the big-forearm-scowly-face-I’m-cleaning-my-guns-routine was too much to handle.

It’s all good though because a few years later, we went to college and went CRAZY with all the unsupervised time with boys. Two words: Planned Parenthood, thank goodness for them [JK Poppa Pants, definitely never went there, just go with the story]. Anyway, eventually things got better for us and now we are all big girls now and able to look back on those times of hell for our fathers and reflect honestly. Ah yes, the point of this entry! Finally.

Miss Sassy Pants would like to send a formal letter of appreciation out to her very own Poppa Pants, and all other dads out there who have endured, are enduring, or will endure the wrath of pre-teen and teenage girls (this includes you, cousin of mine with the adorable daughter…at least you’ve got a few years to get hyped up). We were HORRIBLE and we recognize and would also like to give a formal apology. I’m sure we can all think of a couple a billion times in which we were hindered from doing what we really wanted to do, when actually dear old dad was saving us from getting the herp or some other tragedy we didn’t know about.  And maybe we cried a little less than we could have if we’d been allowed to hang out with “Bobby” more. But be honest ladies, he was smelly and not all that cute. Now that we are grown ass women, we can do better and we know it. So hey Dad, sorry I was such a pain in the ass. Love you.

My jeans are still my life though, trust.

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My future as a network-fixing, Corona-drinking geek.

Thursdays are the standing night out for everyone on my team. Read: the men in IT who have been working together for 10+ years, who all have a fondness for enjoying Coronas and nachos together. They were gracious enough to invite me to join their weekly soiree and I have taken them up on their offer a few times. And let me tell you it is entertaining to say the least. Picture it: me (small, young, thin, female), and about 5 or 6 middle aged men. And we’re not talking stereotypical IT guys either. In fact none of them look anything like that guy, nor have creepy mustaches or anything gross like that, and only a couple are balding and they manage to do it gracefully; i.e. no comb-over (guys: shave it all or own the bald spot, do NOT comb that ish over! It blows, it’s much too long, it is not meant to be worn that way, and you are not fooling anyone! Ugh). So now for this bar we frequent: it’s a Capital Ale House cousin, in that it is actually called Carolina Ale House, and has similar layout, beer, and clientele. Which means this is not a happenin’ place with hotties. My future husband will not be found in this place, Lord help me. Nor will my pals find themselves a nice young lady to spend the evening with, nor will they find the cougar variety to…do whatever with. Really there are no women worth winking at in this place unless you have consumed every Corona in the bar and can’t see straight. Judgment face on the real, people, and I don’t even hide it most times. Digression.

So I think you have a clear picture now, and really it’s like this every week. We go basically to talk about people from work who don’t show up, discuss the latest network outage, mull over which server we think will go down next, and who’ll be the sorry SOB who’s on call to fix it at 3am. No joke people, this is my future. Oh it’s Friday night? You’re out with your girls showing that mohito who’s boss? Too bad. Get on the conference call and fix that server, biotch! Remotely and drunk if you have too, but you better not mess up business, or profits go down and it’s all your fault. [It’s ok though, the “jobs bill” got passed so you’d find work in no time if they fire you!] Oy. Digression again.

Anywho, the interesting part of these little outings is the dynamic of the group. Something tells me it is vastly – or at least marginally different with me there than before. Here’s some things I’ve noticed. The first time I went, I could tell everyone had their sensors and filters on high alert. The next few times, there are more curse words (gasp!), more judgment of so-called “fat cows” at the bar (yes that’s a quote, and yes I taught them all about the judgment face). They have also started asking my opinion about chicks in the bar. “Is she hot or should I stop drinking?” They’ve started being protective of me, like brothers or dads. Or the Secret Service. “That guy is staring at you, he’s ugly, let me stand in front of him so he can’t see you.” No kidding, this has happened (and honestly most the time I’m thankful…like I said, no future husbands or anyone even close). I also get to hear all about their kids, which is vastly entertaining, especially because in some/most/all cases I am closer to their kids’ ages than I am to their ages. Last week, it was daughters night, and I got to hear all about the daughters’ past dating experiences. “This one time, some punk came to pick up my daughter, and honked his GD horn in my &*^% driveway! She tried to get away but of course I stopped her. Walked out there and I said, Son, you ever honk your horn in my driveway again, you’ll get your #$@ !#$%@#$!#  #@$%^&$! Yeah, never saw his ass again.” Said with chest puffed out, lots of agreement nods, and badass chugging of beer. Of course this is not a new story for me, or likely for anyone in the history of dads and daughters who like boys, but it’s still hilarious to be the only non-dad in the group and watch them get all hackled up just talking about some kid who tried courting their daughter 10 years ago.

The next most hilarious thing is that they also pick out men for me. “What about that guy in the stupid ass shorts?” They were madras, and yes he looked sort of silly in them. “That guy is totally checking you out,” one will say, followed by, “no, he’s just wondering what the hell she’s doing with us!” Which is followed by raucous laughter and probably a spilled Corona. Then my boss will remember he doesn’t want me to make friends or have a life so I can work later and have no excuses, clear his throat and say, “Rusty! They’re no good! Work only!” Which again will be followed by more laughter, as they apparently think I would like to do even more work after hours than I do, on a salary which doesn’t pay overtime. Ahem. I never complain, because I am Miss Sassy Pants, and complaining is not sassy. Own it, work it.

Wait, Rusty? Caught that, did you? Save it for another entry. For now, we’ll focus on the closing point, which is that old men aren’t so awful! Just playing, that’s not the point. Just wanted to share that little cliffhanger concerning my new nickname. And that I am becoming a bigger nerd as each day passes. And that, of the friends I’ve made since moving here, these feisty middle aged men definitely take home the most cool points at the end of the day. Plus I get free beer, and who wants to turn their nose at that? Stay tuned, for I’m sure more hilarity will ensue.

Update: Terrorists Unfriend U.S. on Facebook

Just wanted to post this quick update on my last entry. It just so happens that there is an excellent educational editorial (nice alliteration there, no?) in the Wall Street Journal today that explains in further detail the risks of trying enemy combatants in US courts. The author was chief counsel for the Senate Intelligence Committee and deputy assistant attorney general in the Reagan administration. Seems to me she’s (I know right, a woman for once) qualified and knowledgeable. So here it is, a well researched, informative, and in my eyes, as close to indisputable argument as I’ve ever seen for not allowing terrorists of the 21st century to have the same rights as our citizens.

KSM Deserves Military Justice. FYI: KSM = Khalid Sheikh Mohammed = September 11th Mastermind. In case you forgot, September 11th was the day terrorists killed thousands of Americans, and one of the reasons for which we are currently at war.

Happy Tuesday!

chief counsel for the Senate Intelligence Committee and deputy assistant attorney general in the Reagan administrationchief counsel for the Senate Intelligence Committee and deputy assistant attorney general in the Reagan administrationchief counsel for the Senate Intelligence Committee and deputy assistant attorney general in the Reagan administration