Monthly Archives: October 2010

The Real Life Rookie Year: Pointy-Haired Bosses

Because I work in IT and was raised by a father who also works in IT, I am somewhat very familiar with the comic Dilbert. Dilbert is a little man [with, ironically, no facial expressions, or alternatively, the same facial expressions for every situation] who spends his days “clinging to the walls of my fabric covered box while being consumed by a vortex of failure.” Hilarious, as some days, I see the fabric walls of my little box consuming me in a vortex of boredom and lack of purpose. This is besides the point. Dilbert’s boss is affectionately known to me as the Pointy-Haired Boss. You’ve seen him. He says dumb things, asks for projects to be completed early and by spending zero dollars. He cares only for himself and his own raises and benefits. He is not fit to manage anything, much less an office. That’s the funny part. Now to relate Dilbert and his boss to this silly little series.

Us rookies probably have minimal experiences with bosses. You’ve had maybe a couple at the most. If you’ve been working since high school, you’ve had more than a couple but that was high school and that’s different. You old guys have had lots of bosses, and I’m sure greater than or equal to three of them were exactly like the Pointy-Haired Boss in some way or another. Some managers are awesome. Some of them don’t really care about you, as long as you do what they tell you. Some managers should never be managers. Sometimes it’s the blind leading the blind. Sometimes they’re your best friend, and sometimes you get drunk with them and learn things you’d never repeat in the office. They write your performance review after all, and you value your paycheck and raise possibilities.

I’ve had 4 or 5 bosses since I started working at a place where I didn’t wear a swim suit and pink cowgirl hat and take an occasional dip in the pool. [Awesome job.] Some of these bosses were awesome, and some of them were less than awesome. Since I think some people with whom I work read this, I’ll be mentioning no names, chronology, or any reference which would give any hints whatsoever as to which boss was awesome and which was not so much. But they each taught me something about myself, which as a rookie is part of my daily life. Lessons all the time, from all places, until I’m blue in the face from learning so much and my Trapper Keeper (good times) of learnings is bulging and won’t stay velcroed. Annoying.

My first lessons were learned as a young girl working summers in college. Oh the days. A nice man we’ll call El Jefe (haha) was one of my first “real” managers. He was very quiet, not really a jokester in the office, very business-y. I worked very hard to accomplish everything he tasked me with very efficiently and as quickly as possible, even ordering lunch. Ordering lunch was probably the task I felt the most pressure. After all, if people have a bad lunch, it ruins their day. If you’re late for a meeting or send the wrong document, these are easily fixed, solved, or forgotten. Lunch can make people grouchy. So every day I was nervous. Jefe was busy, so it was my job to pick something and sometimes I had to order for him! Nerves jumping! What if he doesn’t like club sandwiches?! What if he fires me because the pickle got his chips all soggy?!? Well luckily, I can tell you I survived every day of lunch ordering. I learned that 1) it’s quite alright to bring around a notepad and force everyone to choose their own lunch, even if they’re on the phone. 2) Most times he was too busy to even notice if I forgot to say no mayo. 3) He noticed my work more than my lunch ordering abilities. And 4) I still attribute (at least partially) all my lunch successes to the good recommendation he wrote me when I changed jobs. I’m thinking he associated good meals with me. This is not a bad thing.

One of the managers I’ve had was so-so. I was pretty much never comfortable talking to this person, and I also pretty much thought a monkey could do this particular job better than this person. No pronouns, sorry. But I learned to work around the incompetence and discomfort, that we can all be successful regardless of the dimwits we work with (this is not limited to managers obviously), and that anyone who blames others in the workplace is just excusing their poor work. Sorry chickens.

Some of the best lessons I’ve learned so far are from a boss we’ll just call Boss. He (or she! Tricky) was pretty cool. Very direct with directions (as the word implies), very direct with feedback, and never sugar coating anything. When I first started working for Boss, it was intimidating. He talked way too fast for my little southern brain fresh out of Southwest, VA, and I better keep up if I knew what was good for me. He forced me to think quicker, say “um” and “like” less because those words take up valuable seconds that I dearly needed to get my entire statement across to him before he got bored and dismissed me. I left that job more confident about a couple of things: 1) asking questions, 2) saying my mind, 3) he’s just a regular guy so therefore 4) there is no reason to be scared or intimidated. Unless you screw up.

Obviously we all have different bosses, and as rookies it is a trial to figure out how they all like to work. Some like to see every nano-second of your day’s productivity. What did you do for the last five minutes? Why were you away from your desk for 15 minutes? Why are you leaving at 4:55 today when you usually don’t leave until 6?? Send me a status report twice a week! Send me every version of every document you have! Ask me permission for everything! Others are different. They leave you alone. They give you the bare-bones requirements for a project and you must dive in solo. These all teach us different things. For me, it teaches me that most anyone can drive me crazy. The ones that ask too much are annoying. The ones that don’t talk to me for 3 weeks make me feel lonely and irrelevant. But none of these are things I can change. We must adjust, because we are the rookies learning how things work. When I’m a manager I can be the one calling the shots, but until then, I will send as many or as few status reports necessary to appease whomever needs to be appeased. I am still in the business of proving myself. The only thing I’ve proved so far is that I took the right classes, got the right grades, and conducted myself appropriately in an interview. I, and we as rookies, still have to prove we’re worth the investment for the team.

So here’s to enduring the Pointy-Haired Boss. He wears white socks with tattered dress shoes, smells funny, is incompetent sometimes, and makes us want to quit our jobs occasionally. She’s bossy and on a power trip all the time, micro-managing us when we are perfectly able to send an email by ourselves, thank you. He talks about his kids way too much. She never answers emails. Whatever. We can do it, because like I said, we’re young, fabulous, and they hate us because we’re younger and have better metabolism. Let’s use it to our advantage, shall we?

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The Real Life Rookie Year

The “rookie” is a special spot to be in. In baseball they are often revered for having outstanding talent in their first year of play, and gives the talking heads lots to yammer about in between innings. In football, rookies are a little different. They can throw off anyone’s fantasy teams, sometimes they are terrible, and in college they’re often red-shirted, and they just sit on the bench while we talk about how good they’ll be next year. The discussion of rookies everywhere is always interesting. They’re unpredictable. They all have reputations which are unfounded, based solely on statistics which they amassed in high school or college, and supposition regarding their actual talent is questionable, a risk at best, a tragedy and ruined fantasy team at the worst.

But the concept of a rookie doesn’t stop with sports. There are new guys everywhere (guys used loosely). Recently I’ve discovered the existence and concept of the Real Life Rookie Year (RLRY). There are a vast number of topics which relate to this concept and so I’ve decided to start another series, because I got such a huge kick out of the last one. In this one, to be entitled “Real Life Rookie Year” or RLRY for short, we’ll discuss everything an anything that comes to mind or is suggested to me as an issue for us early-lifers. But first, to whom does the Rookie Year apply? And what the heck does it mean?

Firstly, this kind of rookie year is not necessarily limited to one year or one season of baseball. It can be anywhere from 6 months to one whole year, to maybe a couple years. I consider myself currently to be in my rookie year of life, but since I’ve now been out of college for greater than one year (depressing) this means I have exceeded the one year time limit. So I decided there is no set limit. It’s the first season of our lives as “young people” or “young guns” as we’re called in my office, or “the little one” as I am sometimes referred to, or even “fun sized” like the guy at the bar Saturday called me. [JK on that last one, just wanted to mention that someone called me “fun size” and then tried to get my number. You lose, thanks for playing.]

So what else? I think to be in your RLRY you can’t be married. I know a bunch of people who were engaged and got married within 1 or 1.5 years of graduating from university. Congrats to you for real, but I’m sorry, you’re now a real grown up. Joint accounts and wedding bands will do that to you. Also you can’t be in law or medical school. These kinds of things are structured, make you study and be responsible, and you either have a scholarship or crazy loans now to help you pay bills before you bring home big dollas.  If you’re in the military and are defending our great country against all the bad guys, you’re not a rookie (just a badass).  If you graduated from college and now play for the Denver Broncos or Dallas Cowboys, you don’t qualify either. Paychecks greater than $500,000 need not read this. You’ll be just fine. If you have kids, you’re no longer a rookie. Sorry. Being responsible for another life makes you kind of legit. You might still be immature and childish, but I guarantee we won’t be discussing childcare or anything related to children or raising them in this series. Find a mommy blog. They’re everywhere.

SO. Are you unmarried, not a professional athlete, not a future doctor, employed, trying to network, and younger than 30? I can’t get you a better job, but this jank is for you. I’m still figuring it out. This is not a how-to series. This is not my advice to young people. I’m too young to give advice to my peers, much like Justin Beiber is too young to write a memoir (seriously? Can he even drive?). I can only share the trifeness, write what I see, tell you what is definitely not working for me, and share the things that are definitely worth repeating. And if you keep reading and still feel it doesn’t apply to you, then fine. Go read the news, you silly old person.

Now that I’ve specified who applies and who doesn’t, let’s recant all of that and just say: if you’re reading future entries of this and you’re all like, “omg! this is so me!” and you’re also a 40 year old professional athlete who is in med school with 3 children, cool beans. You know you best, I suppose. And high five for being an old pro-athlete in med school with 3 kids. That must be tough.

So anywho. A quick tally of topics on my head is going something like this: working, networking, not being in college, extracurriculars, drinking, dating, going to bars, being friends with people over 35, adult sports leagues, paying bills, all our friends getting married, awesome / cheap vacations, having a terrible boss, being called a “young gun” or “cute” at work, 401k, having enough money to not drink natty light, health insurance bills, planning reunions, having lower alcohol tolerance, losing your metabolism, having to pay for race entries to motivate you to stay in shape (maybe this one is just me), being the only one carded when you go out (again, possibly just me), eating Ramen noodles just because it reminds you of college, and lastly, being young and fabulous. We are the 20-somethings. We have jobs (or not), we may not like them (or not), we have no idea what the future holds, and we hope we can afford beer (or shoes) this weekend and also a health care plan. We are awesome, and we are still figuring this jank called life out.

Once again, check back every Thursday for a new installment! And more than ever, if you have any suggestions, stories, trifeness, warm and fuzzy successes, awful tragedies, or even if you’re an old guy with some wise advice for us cute little young guns (vom, please don’t call me “cute” or “little” in the office), send it to me @ vtsassypants@gmail.com. Smooches!

I’m Mrs. Tim Riggins, Nice to Meet You

I have recently taken it upon myself to watch every TV show ever aired on any channel ever. Not really. But I have Netflix, which makes me feel that if this were my goal, it would be pretty easy to accomplish. Anywho, my latest conquests, if you will, of le tele, have got me to thankin.

If you have never seen Friday Night Lights, you really must get all four seasons and watch them as soon as time allows, if not sooner. It is a wonderful show. It makes me want to live in a small town in Texas, go back to high school, be a cheerleader, and most importantly, date Tim Riggins. Please take a moment and look at his picture. Or better yet, just Google him and look at all the beautiful pictures. No, he’s not really the type to bring home to mom and dad (and in real life Miss Sassy doesn’t dig long hair on men). But that is exactly why I want him to come to my home at this moment, sweep me off my feet, and carry me away in his perfect sexy truck. Fantasy aside (cough), what is it exactly about this fictional character that makes me want to be all cowboy booted and cheering for the Dillon football team? He’s a badass. Plain and simple. He answers to no one but himself, he has no future except for at Riggins Rigs, which if anything makes him more attractive. Say it out loud and put some Texas in your voice. Riggins Rigs. Genius. And they keep a long horn in the yard as their mascot. A long horn Texas bull. I dig it. Tim’s quiet, he broods, he’s mysterious, he gets in fights, and he almost failed high school. It’s weird.

Next up we have Mad Men. I am only a few episodes into the first season, but I am LOVE-ING this show. Don Draper is the man of my dreams, minus smoking 4 packs of Lucky Strikes per day. And even this is attractive on him somehow (smoking is gross, but in the 50s everyone looked good doing it). He’s the man on Madison Avenue. He’s got a corner office with his name on the door. He has a do-good little secretary. He’s a genius with advertising. He is quiet, brooding, mysterious, and extremely successful at cheating on his wife. It’s weird. [Ok possibly he’s a little old for me. Whatevs.]

Now which of you scholars saw the connection between Tim and Don? MSP is a multifaceted writer. She jokes, she rants, she riddles! The connection is that they are quiet, they’re brooding, they are chock full of mystery, and perhaps a little danger. What makes Tim Riggins tick? What makes him a softy around cute little peewee players and a nasty cheating bastard to his precious little woman Lyla? And what are all of Don’s little secrets? January Jones aka Betty is the best wife and mother ever. Yet he’s gettin it with some other brunette (a nice change of pace), and I suspect at least a couple others as the seasons pass. Like Tim, he has all the extremely undesirable characteristics, and yet…just something about Don.

Among other noteworthy TV characters aka men on TV who Miss Sassy is sweatin, include but are not limited to Agent Booth of Bones (for obvious reasons, and hey Ma! He’s Catholic!), Detective Elliot Stabler (he’s very manly, though I’d never take him from Benson obvs, but gosh, the smirk…the scowl…I mean, hi), either of the Salvatore brothers on Vampire Diaries (and yes, I’ll fight your pre-teen daughter for them), and Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl (all because of this: “We don’t need tickets. I’m Chuck Bass.” …Giggles and girly screams ensued on my part I am not ashamed to admit). They all have something in common: they’re badasses, they can beat people up (or in Chuck’s case, pay to have someone beaten up), they’re mysterious, and they each have some slightly undesirable characteristic. Yum.

None of these dudes obviously are a) real or b) available. But I think it says something about me (and you, don’t lie, we all know I’m not the only female on the planet who wants to be Mrs. Tim Riggins or one of Chuck’s ladies) that these characters appeal to me. OR it means that Hollywood knows exactly what to give these characters to make me wait with bated breath for each new episode and beg for more seasons. Or it’s both. Either way, I embrace it with my left hand, as I embrace reality with my right. Because really, Tim Riggins isn’t really for me and I feel would never stand up to Poppa D. And Elliot is a bit old. And I know I don’t want to be with a man who cheats, so no thanks. But still, I kind of want to go buy a pack of Luckies and wait for Don to walk around the corner…and I’ll have just the cig to offer him. Wink.

Hokies. I love us.

As you know, I am currently swankin it up on the west coast. It is great. San Fran is an awesome city, and though I do not actually live in EssEff, I live close enough to do some cool stuff. Cool points for me. What is not cool however, is lack of freaking college football around these parts. Namely Virginia Tech football. I have been in desperate need of a heated argument with someone about whether ACC or SEC is better, or which TECH is better: VA or GA. We all know the answer to the latter, and we all know who’s in our hearts for the former, regardless of facts and stats which may or may not back us up. ANYWHO.

Recently, I was out at a local establishment with TVs and noticed something. Despite minimal numbers of people who care about college football, those that do care, STILL care more about east coast ball than west coast! Awesome! So I’m thinking I just need to look harder for people and places which support really good college football. Because seriously who cares about the PAC 10 or 12 or 14 or whatever it is now? Who? Crickets. No one cares. Biggest game around this bay is UC Berkeley vs. Stanford. Again, no one but alums of those schools care. And even the alums don’t really care because their schools are never ranked. So they get hyped for one game per season and the rest of the time only watch baseball post-season (which I’m SO into this year. Go Giants. Don’t tell Grandad.) and the 49ers (blah).

So to fill the void in my heart for college football and everything Virginia Tech, I’ve found some love in places other than bars and TV. I’m sharing because even you losers who actually get to attend games (is that bitter jealousy you sense? yes) should be hitting this stuff. It’s good. The first is the North End Zone. I don’t know any of these dudes who write this blog, but they are hilarious. I’m an avid fan now and I check it weekly to see predictions, game recaps, and in general awesomeness relating to good and terrible Hokie football.

Next. Two words. Kyle Tucker. I believe know I am late joining this bandwagon but this guy has got it going on. I follow him on twitter, I read his blog, I hang on his every comment about our team. I wish I could have the Virginia-Pilot delivered to my doorstep just to read his words of bliss. Be still my beating heart.

This next one is kind of mean but also hilarious: FBS. That’s right, the notion of firing our ill-favored head offensive coach Bryan Stinespring has its own website. This is glorious, and I will say I knew about this site back in the day but it had completely vacated my memory banks. Well, it’s back – in my memory that is, as it never actually went away. And it’s glorious. Because seriously, if the coach’s son can call plays better than the coach himself, why are we paying him? To not coach? I’m no expert, but even I can see that this is just silly.

Here’s something new. Alumni Associations. Virginia Tech has a ginormous alumni association. And there are chapters all over the world. If I move to Ireland for my next rotation, there will be a VT Alumni Chapter which I will join. If I moved to China or India or Bali or freaking anywhere on the entire planet, there would be a group of VT alumni in that area doing something together as Hokies on some kind of regular schedule. AWESOME. Here in the San Fran Bay area, there are over 2,000 [known] Hokies! And there’s a distro list! And they tailgate at bars! And they volunteer! Ut Prosim ya’ll. The guy who writes the regular weekly emails is hilarious and makes me laugh and love my school even more. He calls himself Hokie Hans. This is to you Hokie Hans: you are the man. Your emails are long, ridiculously enthusiastic, and wonderful. Keep being aweosme. Love, Hokie Sassy Pants.

And lastly, I must pay homage to mobile.ESPN.com. Thanks to AT&T’s [awesomely terrible] service on my iPhone, I can view games on the go like never before. For example, last weekend I went on an epic hike (epic = 11 miles = 4000 ft. = couldn’t walk the next day) at 7am. The hike was estimated to take about 5 or 6 hours give or take. 7am + 5 or 6 hours = I would miss the game, which started at 9am Pacific time. No fear. We hiked and got a little more than halfway up the mountain before kickoff. At promptly 10 minutes after 9am, I was hiking with phone in hand, watching live updates as they happen. Thank goodness cell towers sat atop this mountain, otherwise my tears would have accompanied me to the top instead of my cries of joy at each touchdown.

So thank you, all you people and Hokies, for making sure that I can still get my fill even while I am far away. This is probably the most successful long-distance relationship I will ever have. GO HOKIES!

(S)He Doesn’t Like You Part V: Somebody’s Got My Tail!

We all remember the Cowardly Lion from Wizard of Oz, right? Adorable Cowardly Lion. Always pulling on his own tail, scared that someone was pulling his tail. He was a coward! He had no confidence! Fortunately for the Lion, the wizard gave him courage. Unfortunately for people who don’t live in the land of Oz and talking lions, we have to find our own courage and confidence.

There are two separate issues here: the first is we are all cowards when it comes to rejecting people, and the second is that we don’t have the confidence to accept a rejection and move on. Right? Then I think there is a third where the coward in us affects our confidence. Or something. Go with it.

As always, we will have an example. Example one. Miss Sassy goes on a date. Dude is ok, but not that great, and she decides to say no thank you to future planned or unplanned encounters. But how can she break the news? I think we all agree there are certain socially acceptable behaviors which typically should be adhered to at all times. Like telling someone, “you know, dinner was nice, but I think your kind of boring. Sorry.” I’d venture to guess that this type of statement is rare. Because people don’t want to be rude. We want people to like us and not think that we are huge jerks. So, while I may not want to go out with dude again, I don’t want him to think of me as a biotch. But I’m also insecure. What will he say? What if he doesn’t like me? What if he gets really mad?? What if it’s really awkward? I won’t know what to say! [Dramatic pause.] So I wait for him to call or text me and I do the usual. Not respond, not call back, say I’m busy, blah blah blah. We all know the signs by now.

Example two. Miss Sassy goes on a date (it’s all about me, obvs…plus these days I live vicariously through my own blog since I’m dating no one…so cool). She loves it. However,  he’s not into her and never calls again. She is crushed, and her confidence level plummets to a new low. She cries daily, wondering what she did wrong, blah blah blah. Then she has an epiphany. Who cares about him! She’s Miss Sassy Pants! It’s his loss! She’ll find someone else! Eventually!

My dear friend and Mexpert (Men + Expert for those of you who forgot) has this to say:

If a girl doesn’t like me after the first date or two, I think, “their loss.”  It is the only thing a confident guy/girl can say to themselves after a rejection.    Guys/girls should go into every date as “I have the package,” and “let’s see if they are interested in my package.”  If they are not, then it’s “their loss.”

Exactly. I kind of giggled when I read about the package. Some of us get stuck in 5th grade. But seriously, we are all the total package to someone. Perhaps your package is not right for me [giggle]. And perhaps my package is not right for you [giggle]. Mr. Mexpert also says if you’re a complainer throwing a massive pity party, it is an indicator of low confidence level. Stand up for yourself. Recognize that you are awesome, and stop wasting time on someone who doesn’t think you are the coolest thing ever.

The coward thing is hard to solve. The Wizard isn’t just going to hand us little boxes of courage. And even if he did, I’m not sure I’d use what’s in that box to tell someone to their face that I don’t like them. This isn’t the Bad Girls Club or some reality show on MTV. It’s socially unacceptable, it’s rude, momma raised us all better. Most of us. So perhaps we need to find the middle ground. Don’t come right out and say it, but don’t be quite so mysterious. And for those of us on the other side, for crying out loud, he’s not calling you, he just doesn’t like you! We must all embrace ourselves as we are. Let things happen as they will, and if people don’t want to be around you, move on and find others who do. High five.

And that concludes the series! Thanks to everyone for reading, quoting, commenting, hating, and blah blah blah. If anyone still disagrees with the theory, then I don’t know what to do. Go out into the dating ocean and put your new skills to work, and share your stories. Learn things. Don’t repeat mistakes. Don’t talk to the guy who wants to buy you a drink at last call. Have common sense. Stop dwelling on rejections. Be courageous enough to walk away from someone you don’t like. And be confident enough to pick yourself up and move forward.

Have any feedback? Constructive criticism? Mean comments? You loved this? Hilarious or tragic dating stories? Love and virtual hugs for MSP? Send them! vtsassypants@gmail.com.

No Officer, I’ve Never Seen Those Shoes Before.

Remember last year when you got in that car accident and you swore it wasn’t your fault because that other car just came out of nowhere! Like there was no way it was your fault because it wasn’t there, you swear, and seriously it just appeared out of thin air. There was absolutely no warning.

Or remember when you were dating that guy and then out of nowhere he dumped you? For absolutely no reason, you didn’t even see it coming! It was out of thin air, seriously!

Or remember last week when I went to Macy’s just to look at boots and then out of nowhere I walked out with two pairs? And I get home and I’m all shocked like, how did these bags get in my hand?! Who charged my credit card without my knowledge!?! I must have blacked out!! This purchase CAME OUT OF NOWHERE!

Or remember when you started hanging out with that chick and it was super fun because you got to be friends really quick and then out of nowhere she hits on you! You were just friends and then next thing you know there’s drama because she’s crossing the line. OUT OF NOWHERE.

Are we catching the trend here people? It is my humble opinion that nothing really comes from “nowhere.” Also it’s physics. Everything that happens or is has some kind of cause or comes from some other thing. Let’s extrapolate on the above examples.

When that car hit you, it didn’t materialize out of nowhere. Only Harry Potter can make that happen, and that’s make believe, kids. That car was there and you know it. What was not in existence was your awareness of your surroundings. Thus, it is at least partially your fault that you got hit / you did the hitting, since if you had been paying attention, you’d have seen that car. It’s an excuse.

When he broke up with you, it didn’t come out of nowhere. Sure, I guess it’s possible he changed his mind overnight that he didn’t like you anymore and that it wasn’t something he’d been thinking about for at least a couple days, weeks, months. Sarcasm alert. Hindsight is 20/20 ya’ll. Examine your relationship in the days and weeks leading up to his “random” breakup. I will bet my shoe collection (not something I do lightly) there were signs and that you ignored or pretended not to see them. Excuses, once again, and denial.

When I went to Macy’s just to look, it was clearly my intention to not purchase anything (denial). However we know me. I know me. I should have seen it coming. If I really wanted to just look I would have a) gone online (still unsafe) or b) left my monies at home (prevention). So while I must say that sales man was pretty persuasive (excuses), in the end I am also to blame for not recognizing my own habits (acceptance). Hi my name is Miss Sassy Pants and I am addicted to shoes (saved). Next.

When you met Super Awesome Chick and became friends with her, something you should have known ahead of time is this: guys and girls cannot be just friends, unless one of these is true:  a) guy and girl experimented with something more and crossed it off mutually, b) one or both of them are not single, or c) one or both are gay. That’s pretty much it. So unless one of those things is true, you can tell yourself you’re “just friends” but the reality is, there’s always an undertow of electricity for one or both of you (which you can deny or excuse any way you want…doesn’t change a thing). When ya’ll started hanging out as friends, and then “out of the blue” she’s all on your jank and you’re all “holy crap you’re like my sister, where did this come from,” take 30 seconds and review your relationship and perhaps the shock will fade.

So next time you’re hit on by someone random, hit by a random car, dumped randomly, or find yourself suspiciously in possession of shoes, check yoself before you blame the universe. Everything has a cause and an effect, and it is up to you and us (I am guilty also – see extensive shoe collection and numerous trife situations with men) to stand up to the universe and pay attention to the signs. Also I am learning to say “no thanks, not today” and utilize the concept of returning merchandise. Life savers, all.

Frightening, Hilarious, Sad, Free Panties!

One of the greatest things about WordPress (and pretty much any blogging site) is that it provides me, the blogger, with an abundance of information relating to this here jank. One of my favorite-est features is the Top Searches section. Top Searches, as the name suggests, keeps track of the top phrases used in a search which lead someone to my blog. One of my all-time favorites has been the phrase “Free Panty,” which shows up more than you might think. Hilarious since I rarely talk about free panties, or panties in general, but do recall mentioning something about Victoria’s Secret discount code for getting a free pair of undies. Also it has something to do with the tags I put on each post, which I sometimes over-do just for fun to see if I can get people to this blog who were originally looking for “jacket with large shoulder pads.” [I maintain that jackets with huge shoulder pads are not cute. I don’t care what NY Fashion Week or Elle Magazine say. It’s just silly looking.] ANYwhooooz, recently I have been seeing hilarious search phrases that I’d like to address.

The first gem is this: “do east coast guys like southern girls”.  I went out on a limb and actually Googled this exact phrase and the results are comical. People everywhere, apparently, embrace the stereotypes of “southern girls,” “east coast boys,” “California girls,” etc. Personally whoever is searching for that kind of answer has issues, because gurl you’ve got to love yaself. Who cares where you’re from? I’m a southern girl, but I’m currently a California girl, and also simultaneously and an east coast girl and a Virginia girl. Wam bam, wanna date me?

Then the other day I saw this one: “how to message a guy who hasn’t responded to text”. The really sad thing is that the first result, from Wiki Answers, tells little girls everywhere to just ask for less because maybe you’re moving too fast for him. Poor guy, he likes to move slow, you scare him when you want to hang out! Um, false. Sorry Wiki Answers, nice try. I am glad whoever searched for that found her some MSP, because she will get real answers and no BS. Because that’s what the other answer is: BS. Since when do guys like to move slow? Um, never. Thanks for playing. And really, always ask for more, not less!

This search is just awesome and scary at the same time, and I have no idea how it brought this person to this little collection of my thoughts: “black lip tattoo”. Firstly. I don’t know what to say, and I guess that’s a first. Secondly, who wants to have their lip(s) be black for the rest of their lives? Who? Thirdly, how…I don’t even know how to continue. Whoever you are: don’t do it. Get some black lip smooches on your tush or something. But goodness. You’ll have that black lip until you’re 90. Gross.

Live and learn: “professional dark and pink hair” does not exist. I tried it, it was terrible, it made me cry, and my momma got mad. Please see previous entries regarding poor hair choices. Stay natural, or leave the rainbow out of your coloring if you are trying to stay “professional.”

Poor guy needs a hug: “she’s not responding to some text messages”. Hilarious. Here’s your answer: I don’t even want to write it because it’s all over this blog. Move on.

Another awesome query: “super long text messages”. I think I have actually not addressed this. Here’s the answer to the implied question: don’t send them. I send long texts pretty frequently but only to my bffs who I know will love me regardless of text longevity. But in general it is good practice to keep things succinct, whether you’re texting a potential future date, a bff, a boss, or your mom. If I wanted to read a novel, I’d buy a book. And if it’s longer than 200 characters, send a freaking email.

And lastly, we have this quality inquiry: “when guy does reply to your text”. Well honey, if he is replying to you then you have no problem! High five. Unless you’d like him to not reply, in which case…why are you texting him. Simple.

Conclusions: people search for weird things on the internet, but I am here to learn all of you. Do not go to Wiki Answers for dating advice. Do not get your lip tattooed black. And keep swimming. Just keep swimming.