“They” said WHAT?

Coming back to work sucks after a vacation!

Just to reinforce the fact that it is a Monday morning, I got called into my boss’s office.

Whenever I get called into the boss’s office and she asks me to take a seat and close the door, you know it’s not going to be good.

This was no exception.

Someone has been spreading rumors.  Someone has been saying that I am screwing some of the soldiers I work with. Someone who doesn’t even work in the same building with me.

Not screwing one, not screwing two, but screwing “some.”

No specifics were given.  No proof was offered.  No names were named.

Except mine.

Now, I’m alright with a little gossip.  I’m new, I’m an unknown, I’m single and I (in my opinion) look alright.  I’m a little flirty, I’m definitely friendly and I have a way with people.  Oh, and the guys talk about my tits.  Yeah, that’s always a nice little piece of information to have….

But what the hell is wrong with people that they have to level an accusation like that? 

There are several reasons that I have a problem with this.  Let me ennumerate them for you:

1) My husband left me for an adulterous bitch.  Why would I do that to anyone else?  None of the soldiers I work with are single.

2) You have no proof.  Unless you have pictures of the proof in my “quivering mound of love pudding,” shut the hell up!

3) Who I screw is none of your business.

4) This accusation could cost me my job.

Yes, that last one is definitely the most serious of the bunch.  “Fraternization” with the soldiers could cost me my job.

Oh, and now I’m the talk of the office, and not in a good way.  In fact, one of my coworkers walked in and had a little discussion with my office mate about me in hushed tones.  How do I know it was about me?  Well, the words, “slut,” “fucking,” and my name all were a little loud.

Plus, I have good enough hearing that, as my mother always said, I can hear a fly fart.

Yeah, that fart would be preferrable to hearing myself referred to as a slut in the office.

I have a three mottos in life:

– “Life life full out and regret only the paths not taken.”

– “Leave no evidence.”

– “Don’t piss in your own pond.”

Now, the last two are especially appropriate to my sex life.  I don’t want to leave any evidence and I don’t piss in my own pond. Meaning, I don’t screw people in my circle of friends or from my job.

Yes, I have sex.  Yes, I have it with different people.  No, I don’t screw anyone that is married.  Period.  Which means that I’m not having sex with anyone at work.  Which means that I’m  not fraternizing.

So, kiss the hell off.

I have to have a meeting with my supervisor’s supervisor so that they can “double tap” the fact that I shouldn’t be screwing anyone at work.

I will be demanding proof and names.  I want to know who I was accused of screwing. 

That way I can figure out if I enjoyed this imaginary sex or not.

Cause this is bullshit.  If you don’t have enough of a life that you have to invade mine, then I’m going to at least have the satisfaction of knowing who my accuser is and who I, supposedly, had sex with.

I mean, if I had sex with someone, I hope they at least picked someone that was halfway decent looking.  It would be even worse if they accused me of having sex with one of the “handsomely challenged” folks I work with.

And if they want to manufacture stories, I’ll point them to WordPress where their fiction may be welcome.

Cause their fiction isn’t welcome in my life or my job.

UPDATEYou can find out about the aftermath of the afternoon meeting here ~

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Do a great job and get fired. Huh?

I am an advocate of public schooling.  I don’t believe in home schooling as I don’t believe that it is regulated enough. I speak from experience.  I knew some folks who “home schooled” their children but the dad could only count to 21 with both shoes off and his pants down.  His wife could manage 22, but she had to be shirtless.

You guffaw, but I’m not kidding.

I have also known parents that are amazing home schoolers and they do a terrific job with their kids.  But it’s seriously hit or miss.  And here, in New Jersey, there is almost NO regulation on who teaches their children. 

I have serious issues with that.

However, this post isn’t about that.  It’s about the public school system that is in serious need of an overhaul.  I’m not stating that I think that the public school system in this country (and especially in some states) isn’t in dire trouble. 

I know it is.

In fact, this story out of California illustrates this very fact.

*Before we start with the bashing of California, I wish to tell you all that I graduated High School out there and that my senior English teacher, Mrs. Baker, was responsible for my being able to write pretty well.  I’ve honed that talent since then, but she was my basis.  So, no bashing my public school education, K? (A little shout out to all my Wheatland High peeps~*muah*)

Everyone is broke these days, and I understand fully that budget cuts mean that jobs have to be cut.  I don’t agree with it and in a perfect world our schools would be a number one priority for everyone.  But this is just the reality of our country right now.

So, last hired, first fired, right?

Why?

This woman, Michelle Apperson,  was named Sacramento’s Teacher of the Year and she got FIRED.

Ready for why our schools are failing?  I’ll give it to you in a direct quote from the school district spokesperson:

School spokesperson Gabe Ross told News 10 that who gets laid off is mandated by state law and is based on seniority, not performance.   *underlining mine*

What the hell kind of thing is this?  Why is the person that performs the best laid off?  I understand it, but it logically doesn’t make any sense. 

Now, don’t start screaming about unions and stuff.  I don’t want this to devolve into a political discussion.

I just wanted to point out the absolute, utter lack of logic applied to this situation.

And there are laws to make this happen.

Wow.

The injustice of this, to the teacher and to the children that she could have been shaping, is palpable. 

I seriously have a bad taste in my mouth.

The fact is, the education system needs an overhaul.  And that won’t happen until the politicians in every single state house and in Congress understand, fully, that public school is where 90% of their country is being educated and assign it the importance that they seem to assign to my uterus or my BMI.

We need to make them hear what we are saying.  They need to understand that not all of us can afford to send our kids to the schools that they are sending their children on my dime.

I want my dime to go to MY children and to MY community for their education and their future.

I want teachers like Ms. Apperton to keep her job and influence so many little, maleable minds.

This is a disgusting shame.  Truly.

 

 

Faking Phone Sex

How many women, by show of hands, has faked an orgasm at some point in their life?  *counts*

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Every woman has done it.  Maybe you just weren’t into it that night.  Maybe he was just that bad.  Maybe your mind was on what needed to be done for tomorrow. 

Whatever the reason, there are some of us out there that deserve an Oscar for making their man feel like a man by faking their satisfaction.

I’ve done it.  Don’t be ashamed.  We’ve ALL done it at least once in our lives. 

But last night, I think I stooped to a new low.

I felt like a phone sex operator….and I wasn’t getting paid.

I’ll admit, when my usual NSA (no strings attached) texted me earlier in the evening and started talking naughty, I couldn’t wait to have a little phone sex with him.  He was talking all kinds of stuff – tying me up, spanking me, using his tongue in places that are not mentionable in polite company.

Yummy!

But then I picked up the kids.  I ate a Subway sandwich for dinner and it didn’t agree with me, at all.  At all.

I definitely wasn’t feeling like any phone sex after eating my weight in Tums and fighting with the kids to take a shower and get into bed.

But, I had already promised.  And I don’t like to back out of my promises.

So, after the kids finally got to bed I called him.

And I totally phoned it in. 

I made all the right noises and said all the right words.  I talked sexy and dirty and hmmmm’d and ahhhh’d. 

I did all this while fully clothed and picking out my and the boys’ clothes for tomorrow.

Yes, I totally faked an orgasm on the phone.

He didn’t fake his 🙂

I have phone sex with this gentleman at least once a week.  It’s always enjoyable.  I like it because I never have to worry if I’m making stupid faces or my one-ab doesn’t look sexy in that light or that position.  I can just let go and totally enjoy myself.

But it just wasn’t happening last night.

I take solace in the fact that I don’t normally do this.  This was a one off deal, I hope! 🙂 

But I feel a little guilty that I did phone it in….but not enough that I wouldn’t do the same thing again.

Tums, kids and showers a romantic scene do not make.

Here’s to it being better the next time….and I’ll accept my Oscar whenever the Academy decides to call!

A giggle here, a snarl there

I had big plans for this weekend.  Was going to go to NYC on Saturday and hang out with a friend.  Until I found out it was Fleet Week this weekend.

Um, no, thank you.

For those of you unfamiliar with Fleet Week (or have never watched NCIS – amazing how many murders happen during Fleet Week that only Gibbs and his team can solve), let me explain.  Fleet Week is when the entire US Naval Fleet pulls into the port of choice that year and all of the sailors get off the ships and such and go nuts on land.  There are literally thousands of sailors that inundate the port city.  Add in all those that come to see the amazing ships that come into port for Fleet Week (we’re talking A LOT of civilian ships – beautifully preserved ladies from days long past) and Memorial Day Weekend?

Again, no, thank you.

So, instead we headed to Philly.  Now, you might think that Philly would be crowded, but it seemed like everyone had taken off for the Shore.  So my friend and I headed down on 9th Streeet for some famous cheesesteaks at Pat’s, then walked around a bit through his old neighborhood (he had grown up in the area), before heading over to Philly’s Chinatown.

We cruised through there, in the heat and  horrid humidity (when did New Jersey become Mississppi???), checking into the little shops that all Chinatowns seem to have.  You know the ones, where they sell paper umbrellas and fans.  Chopsticks and jade trinkets.  One store we walked into looked like Hello Kitty had spontaneously combusted all over the place.  It was wall-to-wall pink with little kitty faces everywhere!

My sister-in-law would have loved it!

After we were done in Chinatown (read – hot and sweaty and needed to pee), we went to the Gallery, a huge indoor shopping mall in downtown Philly near the convention center.  We both made a bee-line for the pottys and then we found a place to cop a squat for a few while we cooled down.

It really was super hot and humid yesterday.

While we were sitting there chatting and enjoying the air conditioning, I noticed this guy walking towards us.  Now, there were no shops where we were sitting except for this shoe store which had all manner of tennis shoes and such for outrageous prices.  This guy was obviously headed for that store.  He turned to walk into the store, made too sharp of a turn and ran face first into the glass!

He didn’t raise his hands to stop himself, he didn’t break stride.  He ran right into the glass!  My friend and I sat there for a minute, watching to see what he would do.  He walked into the store, like nothing had happened, leaving only a nose print on the glass as testimony to his misstep.

My friend and I laughed so hard I cried.

That guy stayed in that store and shopped for a good 20 minutes before he walked out again, sending my friend and I into peals of more laughter when we saw him.

Seriously, I’m giggling just thinking about this!

When we were finally cooled off, we were heading for the stairs to go back up to street level and my friend pulled me into a Hallmark store.  I noticed that they had those wonderful hand painted wine glasses there and went to check them out.  I ended up buying one for a pregnant friend of mine, one that said, basically, “Congrats on the baby!  Now that you’re not pregnant, let’s have a glass of wine!”  I thought she would really like it.

I took the glass up to the counter to pay and the lady says to me, “Are you buying this for your daughter?”

Ex-squeeze me?

My daughter?  Do I seriously look like I have a daughter who is 21 and about to have my grandchild?

I know that I’m 39 and that I  had been walking all over that day and didn’t necessarily look my best, but seriously?

Honey, I think you need new glasses!

I actually turned to my friend and asked him, after a moment of stunned silence, “Do I seriously look like I have a 21 year old daughter about to have a baby?”

He says, “No, not at all.”

Smart man.

Let me just say here, as a bit of information for all of you to store away into your brains for such a scenario down the road:  This kind of question ranks right up there with asking, “So when’s the baby due?” when you’re not at all sure that the woman is pregnant.  Save yourself much trouble and embarassment by not asking questions such as these. They will only lead to snarky comments and bad feelings all around.

We headed for home soon after this little incident and spent a pleasant evening in conversation and watching a couple of movies.

Today, I did nothing.  At all.

It was wonderful.

I hope you all had a terrific weekend, that it was filled with friends and nose-prints on glass 🙂

Happy Memorial Day, everyone.

Alright, let me lay this out

So, my oldest son has been seeing a therapist for the last 3 years.  He is autistic and I felt that this would be a good avenue for him to take and talk about his frustrations/issues.  Puberty is a hard time.  Mix in the autism and it’s really hard.

Mix in a divorce, and you have his own personal hell.

And I sympathize.  I understand that this is super hard for him.  He could completely hide from the divorce while we were all living in the same house.  Then the weekend that I moved out, he had to move into a hotel with his father and his father’s girlfriend and he couldn’t hide anymore.

I think it was quite a shock for him.

And I totally understand that.   But today, at the therapy session, I just wanted to yell at him.

I deserve a life!  I deserve to be happy!  I deserve to not feel guilty because my son doesn’t want me to have a life!

I waited a damn long time to be happy and I’m going to be.  I am going to make sure of it.

I understand that he’s hurting and I don’t want him to.  I want him to be happy.

But he has to come to grips with the fact that I’m going to date.  I’m going to go out.  I’m going to have a good time and I’m going to live my life and be happy.

And he has to come to grips with the facts that his father and I are never, ever getting back together.

Hence, the therapy sessions.

I was so angry with him for basically telling me that I couldn’t have a life.  Who the hell does he think he is?????

I refuse to allow my children to dictate to me how I’m going to live my life.  I have sacrificed so much for them, happily so, and I continue to sacrifice.  But I WILL NOT allow them to lecture me about my dating (which I don’t really do), my drinking (which I do even less than my dating), or any other bad habits I have.  I WILL NOT allow them to make me feel at all guilty about living an adult life.

I WILL continue to give them support, guidance and unconditional love.  I WILL continue to behave like a responsible adult and parent.  I WILL continue to sacrifice to make their lives better.  I WILL, most definitely, make time for myself and enjoy said time.

But know this.  My children will not control my social life, any more than their schedule already does.  I will be an adult and engage in adult activities and I will enjoy them.

Guess the boys will just have to come to grips with these realizations, too.

 

Finding my way

I don’t remember what it is to flirt or be flirted with when the end outcome could, possibly, be sex.

I flirt like I breathe.  Always have.  I enjoy interacting with the opposite sex.  I love to see them smile in response to something I said or my smile.  I just enjoy it.

I’m an equal opportunity flirt.  I flirt with girls, too.  Doesn’t necessarily mean that I want to get with them to do anything nasty, but it shows them that I’m into what they are saying at that moment.

I may have crossed a line this week, though.

There’s this guy in my office who is the most un-PC guy you could ever meet, is married and always has a smart comment for everyone that comes around.  I banter back and forth with him and, sometimes, it gets a little risque.  But it’s all in good fun.

Ummmmm, well…..

I guess it got to be a little much for him, or I took it over a line, or something.  I’ve had to seriously back off.  Not that he’s not cute or that I don’t like his personality.

He’s married.

He asked me why I wouldn’t get with him.  I told him because he was married.  I told him that as long as that ring was on his finger, there was no way that I would poach.  He told me, “The ring comes off, you know.” 

Ummmm, still no.

See, in my mind there are two kinds of guys:  those that are safe to flirt with and those that get “flirting with intent.” 

I guess I did a little much with him.  Honestly, though, I thought he could take it.

Guess not.

I live by two mottos:  “Leave no evidence,” and “Don’t piss in your own pond.”  They have served me well through the years and I will continue to live by them.

I enjoy his company and I would love to see how he is outside of the office, but he’s married.  Period.  There’s nothing more for me there.

Time to shift into low gear.  I’m just so out of practice. 

Gotta get back into the swing of things, I guess…find my way.

Weird day. Just weird.

I woke early, at around 4.  Then 4:30, then 5….see the pattern?  I finally gave up trying to go back to sleep at 6 (which is super early for me during the summertime).  He woke up and got ready to go work out and treated me like no harsh words had been said yesterday.

Are you sure you’re the same guy that said you felt like punching me in the face? (Not that he ever would, cause he knows I would have his dick in my hand and his ass in a sling).

I did my normal morning thing, go the boys up and then headed myself out to job hunt.  Yeah, that’s me – the original hunter/gatherer going out to get money to support the tribe.

Well, in all reality I drove 3 minutes down the road to the local resource center.  But it was productive.

I got a call from the company that told me I wasn’t hired last week.  That was an odd call.  Basically it breaks down like this:

They have a job for me.  They want me in this job.  They think I’ll be a great fit for this job.  I was the first person they thought of when they became aware this job was becoming available.

They just don’t know when it will become available.

The woman currently in the position put back in to work at the Department of Youth and Family Services.  They accepted her application and will call her when they are ready for her to come to work.

Could be two days, could be two weeks, could be two months.

It sounds like a totally awesome job and I would love to get my grubby little mitts on it.  But I can’t wait two months for a job.  So, I spent two hours submitting resumes all over the place.

I got a call back on one.

I have a job interview tomorrow.  It’s about 45 minutes from here, but I’m thinking I’ll take whatever job I can get and then, if it’s worth it, I’ll go to the other job that will come open sometime in the next millenium. That way I’ll be earning money and not worrying about being penniless.

Then  he tells me that he has an appointment with a lawyer on Tuesday at 9 a.m.  Gonna start the separation paperwork but that we can’t sign it until I move out.  Which I know is not true, but he thinks that and I’m not going to disabuse him of that notion.

He also says that we can get a divorce for about $1600 IF we don’t change any of the paperwork.

Yeah, I’m thinking it’s gonna be more than $1600.

It’s helped that he said that.  I don’t have that low level panic churning anymore.  Hopefully that will keep up.

Then we walked the dog and had a nice conversation and it seemed like all was good.  Except he’s extra worried about his girlfriend and the coming hurricane that is Irene.  They are evacuating her island.

I hope the hurricane takes out everything she owns. (Ooops, sorry – Bitter Bitch stepped in for a minute).

Although, I have to say I’m in utter agreement.

Hopefully this job tomorrow will pan out.  Maybe something else I applied for will pan out.

Maybe a rich uncle that I didn’t know about will die and leave me millions.

Yeah, and if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

It was a better day, but kind of weird for me.  No emotional roller coaster.  Just focused on what I need to do.

Felt kind of good, but definitely out of character these days.

Here’s to hoping there’s more days like this one!