It took me a couple tries(and I don't mean porn.) Like, maybe there's more than you think(possible, and you don't exactly have that whole Marginalized Human thing, like I do) but, you know. If she's not it, don't be afraid to keep looking When I was in high school, I thought I would be a therapist. But I think I just terminated too fast with my disabled therapist and then kind of had the most fucked-up #SeeHerBeHer ever. Or maybe it took getting into college for me to realize how hard grad school would be(Or the occasional feeling that I'd be tempted to scribble about the deep, dark secrets that might've come my way. 'Because it's wrong" Kind of hating my Not a Job today, as it happens, and sort of wishing I'd let the guy who got bent about my Linked-in dozens joke take it off my hands last year.(I swear, I thought we were play-fighting, but he really got upset.)
Cordelia ,'The Cautionary Tale of Numero Cinco'
Natter 78: I might need to watch some Buffy for inspiration
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, butt kicking, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
But, really, dude, I'm a stranger, on twitter, who just wrote that maybe your mother should amend her profile to address her skills with small equipment. We've known each other ten minutes. If that brings up feelings enough that you want to get me fired, maybe you should talk to *mom*, not me.(My stepmother hammered my "Your mom's a skank" button so much when I was young, even if those jokes weren't funny to me, it wouldn't be fighting words now. And not only because if my mother was a skank, Stepmonster would have gotten her butt kicked on our front lawn because girls where my mom grew up? Don't settle for blouse disarranging and mild hair-pulling.) But, lucky me, that would never happen because a. I cover for all the married, family-having folks on the holidays And 2. Technically speaking, "having my job" would have saved me money because I'm a volunteer anyway.
I'm really missing JZ today and her unique brand of kind wisdom.
Sometimes I'm surprised at what makes me think of her. Sometimes I expect it, like "Gum would be perfection."
Y'all! I am wearing one red shoe and one black shoe (both flats, and similarish styles) and I had NO IDEA until a coworker mentioned it in the kitchen and I looked down at my feet. I'm not sure if this is a new low or an achievement unlocked sort of situation, but it's something.
Nah, worse would be if you got the chirality wrong.
I probably would have noticed that before getting very far. Probably.
Call it a deliberate fashion choice and just go with it.
I have a pile of onerousness that has landed on me today, and I just feel like all the onerous tasks could be spread out through the week. I have to: (1) see the dentist later because my dental implant (which doesn't have a crown yet) is poking through my gum a little, and that just doesn't seem right; (2) wrangle insurance nonsense for the bill from when I went to urgent care in Colorado; (3) manage all of the pre-op stuff for my dad's surgery next week (standard prostate stuff for an elderly man), because he doesn't read any of the mail they send him, and/or he assumes that the instructions don't apply to him (yes, Dad, when they tell you to get a pre-op physical, you need to actually do that, not just say "I've been feeling pretty good lately, so I don't need to do that," or they will cancel your surgery, you dumbass).
And then, you know, regular work on top of all of that. It's a bit much.
Also, I am thisclose to having lost 20 pounds (yay!), and my Covid weight-gain jeans do literally fall off me when they're buttoned and zipper, but my pre-Covid jeans still don't fit well (I can technically button and zip them, but they are tight). I'm not really a leggings gal, so since the weather is getting cooler, I apparently am just going to wear joggers everywhere.
manage all of the pre-op stuff for my dad's surgery
Steph, also consider making preparations, and preparing *him*, for post-op care and aftercare needs.