Friday, August 28, 2009

Bye Bye Banana Bread Baby

This morning at 12:30 am, Deja, the love of my life, died in my arms after losing her battle with liver cancer. She was 14 years old. She had been my baby from the moment I brought her home from the pound at 5 weeks old. She will be cremated and her ashes spread at Nauset Beach in Orleans Ma. It was her favorite spot to swim in the waves and play fetch.

You all may remember my story last December when I found out she was sick. The vet gave her 3 months or so. Wouldn't you know, that stubborn mutt held on for 9 months. It was only just these past 2 weeks that she showed any signs of being sick. She even played fetch yesterday afternoon for a few minutes.

Instead of writing a sob story and crying all over my desk. (that would be impossible because I am totally dehydrated from crying all last night and this morning). I will share a short tale with you about my wonderful, loving, pain in the ass, conniving mutt.

I love to make banana bread. Without bragging too much, I make the best banana bread in the world. It's moist, flavorful, nutless and has just the right amount of spice. After years of rock hard loaves, mushy tasteless loaves and gummy chewy loaves, I gleefully found the perfect recipe while cleaning out my predecessors desk. (He was a gay man who had gone to culinary school. Need I say more?) For months, I made loaf after loaf.

I woke up one morning and made my way down to the kitchen, eager to toast a slice of the fresh bread I had made the evening before. But, all I found on the counter was a cutting board and a knife. Not a crumb in sight. For a split second, I thought Deja had scooped it off the counter. But this was a gigantic loaf. She only weighed 45 pounds. And I had also placed it in the center of the kitchen island. It was at least 3 feet from the edge of the counter top.

So, of course, my next thought was TH. I was seething at the thought of him wrapping up my delicious loaf and carting it off to share with the people who worked for him. That was my bread.

I placed a call and left a vicious voicemail that had no less than 9 profane words and some very clever threats against the junk in his pants. He called me back a few hours later. He hadn't taken the bread. He didn't even know I'd made a loaf.

In short, Deja had eaten the entire loaf. She'd gotten so sneaky that she didn't leave a trace anymore. Her stomach was such a trash compactor, she even ate her breakfast that morning. How a 45 pound dog managed to get a 7 pound loaf of banana bread off a 3 1/2 foot high counter top and eat it without leaving a trace is a secret that has gone with her.

Just to leave you with a more humorous note. Here are a few more things that she managed to ram down her throat in the past 14 years: an entire cork board with thumbtacks, a jumbo box of Wild Berry poptarts (technicolor backyard for a few days after that one), a jar of vanilla body scrub, at least 5 pairs of shoes (when she was a puppy), 4 feet of wall to wall carpeting and just a month ago she ate a 12 pack of hot dog rolls that I'd left on the counter when I went outside to flip the hot dogs on the grill. I was gone for less than a minute. Her amazing ability to "gulp" at the speed of light is a skill that will go unmatched. Her sly nature and scheming earned her the nickname "Weasel Dog".

Please give your dogs a hug for me today.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

The Common Denominator

There comes a time in life when you have to wonder if a problem you're facing might be entirely your fault. For example, a woman complains that she can't find the right guy. She always blames him for the demise of the relationship, but never takes the time to realize, while she is dating different men, the relationship always ends the same way. The common denominator is her. SHE is the reason the relationships are due to fail. SHE is what needs changing, not the guy.

I've never had luck with female friends. Guy friends? Those I can't get rid of. Once I become friendly with a guy, it's usually for life. Women? I'm lucky if I get 3 months. It starts out like any relationship - the hour long phone calls, dinner and a movie, fun day trips. Then, it stops as abruptly as it started. Email and phone messages go unanswered, plans fall thru the cracks. This pattern has been happening for years. Sure there have been a few wackos sprinkled in there - those friendships that I chose to voluntarily expunge from my life because I really don't want to be friends with someone that licks whip cream off a married guys' balls. (true story) A guy who is married to someone else other than the friend. But once a year, I cautiously peer out from my tightly closed doors and try to make a friend - and I have been failing miserably at it.

I was watching "Bride Wars" Friday night as I waited for one of those phone messages that went unanswered regarding plans that fell thru. I smiled at the end as Anne Hathaway and Kate Hudson made up and returned to being life long friends. Then, I turned off the TV and walked to the back door to let the dogs out for the final pee of the night. After I finished yelling, "Go Poop. Get Out There and Try Again", I stood in the doorway and was surprised as a single tear slid down my cheek. Usually, I'm use to this stage of the game as I stoically declare "whatever" and watch all the episodes of "Sex In The City" while eating deli slices of American cheese stuck between Wheat Thin crackers to make a sandwich. But, maybe I'm cracking in my old age. Maybe I'm just tired of it all.

Then it hit me like a load of lard. The problem had to be me. Of course! These women were all different - different ages, lifestyles, backgrounds. The only thing they had in common was me. I was the common denominator!

I came to this same conclusion a few years ago after another failed friendship. I asked TH what the hell was wrong with me. He told me I picked the wrong people to be friends with. There was nothing wrong with me. If anything, he said I cared too much. I'm the kind of person you call at 2 AM to come pick you up after if you've had just one too many shots - even if I've just met you the week before. Need a ride to the airport? I'm game. Got troubles? I've got two shoulders for you to cry on and the location of a restaurant that makes excellent margaritas. I will give you the shirt off my back as long as I'm wearing a bra underneath. If its a real emergency, I'll still give up the shirt even if I'm not wearing the bra. No one will look. My boobs aren't that great anyway.

Am I'm a friendship whore? Am I'm too easy? Am I giving away the goods before the second date? I have to wonder, is there such a thing as a being too friendly?

I have changed my tactics over the years. Just recently, I waited 5 months before making a "date". Over the course of those 5 months, I cautiously felt the person out, casually talked about this and that, always keeping things light. After I felt totally confident with the entire situation, I made concrete plans. The BAM! Just like block of concrete, they sank heavily in to oblivion.

My age and current status don't make things any easier. I'm 32 years old. Most women meet their lifelong friends in college or just after. Well, I went to college when I was 26. I was a relic to those girls in my classes. Most women my age have kids and associate with their "play date" friends. My lack of offspring makes me undesirable to those women. After 4 days of heavy thinking, I have only come up with one possible reason why I might suck in the friend department: I'm just too much for some people. I'm loud, brash, unflappable, unfailingly honest and have a low tolerance for bullshit. But at the same time, I am fiercely loyal, loving and compassionate. I am a powder keg. You must have a strong constitution and a strong stomach to be my friend.

I know what you're thinking.....I'm putting way to much thought into this. Like any good thing, I should just let it happen. Well, Fate is fucking me right now and she lacks finesse and lubrication.

Okay, I'm done whining. I'll talk about something sexy or disgusting or funny tomorrow. I'm just a little cranky, kinda lonely and a bit frustrated right now.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

RRT - Dead Bodies, My Twins, Loud Farts and a Sweat Mustache

Am I the only one worried they haven't buried Michael Jackson yet? It's been like a month already. It's not like he's gonna stay fresh or anything.

I really need to stop being a VinDiesel fan on Facebook. Every time one of his assistants posts something for him, I think he's talking just to me. Once reality hits, it's such a slap in the face. I am so pathetic.

There are somethings in our relationship that TH and I just don't share. For me, it's farting. I have never just rip in front of him. Sure, the accidental ones slip thru and I do the cough thing and change the subject. But lately, TH has been making up for lost time. And when he farts, he likes to blame it on the dog. I told him, there is no way in hell he could get that by me (except for the silent but deadly ones. Those are hard to place). He's a big guy, therefore, LOUD farts. Seriously, lovers. He has woken me up from a dead sleep. I thought we were in the middle of a thunderstorm. I told him if those farts were from the dog, the it would have exploded upon execution.

The other day, a guy was stumbling across my office parking lot drinking a beer. (Before you think, "Hey, that's happens in my city all the time", you need to realize that this is Cape Cod. That doesn't happen here, EVER). Fancy Pants and I were staring my office window at him, when he stopped, bent over and puked right in front of the window. Apparently, he'd just had spaghetti a few hours before.

My mother has decided I'm going to have twins. She's even named them for me: Gwendolyn Helen and Charlotte Eva. I wonder if she would like to carry them for me and pay for their college education as well. I swear, every time I turn around the woman has me knocked up. Just a few months ago, she would pale at the thought of being a grandmother. Suddenly, she's decided it would be fun and is making up for lost time with excess badgering.

The summer is almost over and TH finally installed the air conditioners last Thursday. Now, we can enjoy them for a whole 3 weeks until we have to take them out for the fall. The only way TH can sleep comfortably is for the temperature to hover around 59 degrees. I'm back to wearing flannel pj's to bed. The complaint that my bedroom attire is "less than sexy" should come within the next few days.

Speaking of fall, I'm ready. Between the excessive rain and unbearable humidity, I'm done with summer. I'm tired of walking out the door and getting a sweat mustache before I even get to my car. My hair has been unmanageable and I am tired of doing the sniff test of my armpits after only 5 hours. This weather challenges the most powerful of deodorants.

Monday, August 24, 2009

All You Ever Wanted To Know and More

Last Thursday, I had a small blogging meltdown and offered up my most intimate secrets to the masses. Questions could be asked of me and I would truthfully bare my soul.

From Daddyfiles: 1. What was your time on the triathlon: The fucking race was a wash out. The swim portion was cancelled (due to a massive electrical storm) and the 6.2 mile run was split into two 3.2 mile sections with the bike portion in between. The team captain (my aunt) decided my sister would run the first half and I would run the last. So at the end of all this craziness, training and traveling I only got to run 3.2 miles. Bullshit doesn't even begin to describe how I felt. I wasn't even asked if I wanted to give up half the run. In the end, I finished the 3.2 miles in 27:32 minutes. It was my best run time yet. I managed to break under the 9 minute mile mark. I'm pretty sure it was due to the fact I was so furious at the situation, I just wanted to be done with it. 2. Fuck, Marry, Kill: You have to pick three of your bloggy Internet friends. One you'd fuck, one you'd marry, and one you'd kill. Give reasons why: Obviously, the person I would fuck would be Lola. (I picked her even before she threaten me to pick her) I have no lesbian desires, but I have no doubt she would be a fabulous lay. I'm willing to give girl on girl a try for her. I would marry Michele. She is the most amazing chef. I'd never have to cook dinner again and she would get me all the fun books from the library. At the moment, I have to think I might just kill you. You had the most questions of everyone. What are you? A reporter or something?'re so nosy. You could have just called me instead of making me type so much! 3. Have you ever had sex in Satan's Workshop? Nope! Truthfully, the idea of having sex there stresses me out. Just being there stresses me out. Not in a Gee-I-hope-we-don't-get-caught way, but in a Is-the-phone-gonna-ring-and-I-will-feel-the-need-to-answer-it-mid-orgasm way. 4. If a genie grants you one wish but in exchange, you permanently gain 30 lbs, would you do it? Yes. Because I would have all the extra weigh go to my hair and my boobs! Presto - free boob job! 5. I want to know if TH is home during these tryouts (referring to my sex toy testing) or if he's ever come home to find you in your "rock climbing" gear. Is he used to stuff like that or does it take him by surprise. TH is the one who got me started on all the crazy toys. For our first Christmas (and we were just friends at this point) he bought me the Rabbit Pearl. He's not home when I do my testing. I can also hear his car pull into the driveway and it gives me plenty of time to put everything away if I don't want to indulge in sharing. It's too hard for me to concentrate and truly run the toy thru its paces if he's drooling and panting next to me, trying to "help". It's a distraction -a nice one-but a distraction all the same. He is very use to my testing and using new products. He gets the added benefit of using them with me if I like it.

From Badass: What are your best and worst memories from high school?: My best memory was when I went to Germany for a three week student exchange my junior year. It was the craziest three weeks of my life. I partied, saw amazing places, ate amazing food, got engaged to a German guy (Ah, Marcus. He was such a babe! Too bad I dumped him after six months), met a beautiful Italian guy named Elvis (I passed out cold before I got anything more than a kiss), and drank more than I ever have in my life! If I had pick one moment in my life to relive, it would be those three weeks! It was 1994 and every blond American girl was considered Pamela Anderson. I was in heaven! My worst memory was from my sophomore year. I had been dating a senior named Josh for a few months. He was so dreamy and had this cowboy thing going that was so different from the jocks and other weirdos that inhabited my high school. I was hopelessly in love with him and he dumped me right before the senior prom (which I was sure he was gonna ask me to) He told me he'd just dated me to forget his old girl friend and now that he was leaving high school, he'd never have to see her again and he didn't need me as a distraction anymore. Oh, did I mention he dumped me in front of an entire classroom of people. I was humiliated and heartbroken for a year.

The funny thing is, I ran into him about 5 years ago. I had just gotten out of court and ran into a deli to grab a sandwich. I was still all jazzed up in my suit and looking really good. He was in line at the deli with his mother. I didn't even recognize him!!! He was pudgy and balding. He looked at me and said, "You don't remember me, do you?"

I looked back at him and thought, he looked familiar but I couldn't place him.

He said, "We went out in high school my senior year". All of a sudden, the whole thing came back to me and before I could stop, my nose crinkled up in disgust.

"Oh, so you do remember me now." he said with an embarrassed smile.

With my best manners (after all, his mother was there), I said "Josh, right? We had woodshop together" (Yes, I took woodshop. I was trying to piss off my parents and keep them from making me take yet another computer typing class).

After that, I picked up my sandwich, said a polite goodbye and left. I had almost made to my car when I heard, "Hey, Cape Cod Gal. Wait a minute".

There was Josh, running after me. He proceed to apologize for everything he had done to me in high school, telling me what a shithead he had been (like I didn't know) and how very sorry he was for treating me with such disrespect. I gave him a pat on the arm and said it was no big deal. Let bygones be bygones.

But, after he walked away, I couldn't help thinking "Sucker! I win!"

From Lola: 1. You better pick me to fuck! I did! Three days before you threatened me! 2. If "The Partners" were the last men on earth, which one would you choose to have sex with? If it was absolutely necessary for survial, I would have to pick Partner #1. (dry heave) Partner #2 would make me physically sick. I would have killed Partner #3 already because there would be no one around to arrest me for it. 3. How much money would you have to win in the lottery to quit your job? At least 2 million (after taxes). The would give me enough to (finally!) pay off all my student loans, invest some, pay off my house and my parents house and leave some for me to start my own business with some money of the side to play with! 4. Would you rather be rich or have the perfect body? I want to be rich. I can make myself the perfect body with the personal trainer I can pay for once I'm rich. 5. Who would be your number one pick to bring in for a threesome other than me, of course? If it was a woman, it would have to be Salma Hayek. If it was a guy, Vin Diesel, of course!

From Captain Dumbass: Weirdest place I've had sex: racquetball court. You?: The top of a fire tower in Nickerson State Park in Brewster MA. Fabulous view, lots of splinters, and it was a federal offense if I got caught!

From Staci: What is your all-time, favorite, can't live without it toy?: My favorite toy is the Hustler mini massager. It is totally obsolete and you can't find it anymore. It use to be waterproof, but I broke the waterproof thingy that went over the top. Now, it's just a bedtime toy. It's fast, easy and works every time. I'm not quite sure what I'm gonna do if it every breaks.

From Morvy: 1. I want to know what the secret was from your "tattle-tale" post. I hate to disappoint you, but it wasn't that exciting. Well, not exciting to an outsider. I found out one of the associates was going to quit. See....not that crazy. It did cause a hell of a day for me! Nothing like telling your boss that one of the associates, who also happens to be one of his best friends, is leaving the firm. 2. I am also dying to know what your hold-out in the baby department is. {Now, this isn't because since I recently had a baby I think everyone should have one too (which I do) I was just wondering why you have not taken the 'plunge' yet.} Remind me never to introduce you to my mother. The two of you would slay me! I really don't have any specific reasons why TH hasn't knocked me up yet. We're just kinda moving along, enjoying being married etc, etc. I've also had a few minor health scares that we're seeing about. Buuuuuuuuut.......just between, you and me and the 400 other people that read my blog every day, I will tell you the subject has been brought up in conversation recently and the outcome was favorable. 3. It has also been killing me to know what you do - but I understand not being able to divulge that info on the world wide web. (But I still wonder and make up scenarios in my head- especially when you use phrases like Satan's Workshop) I call it Satan's Workshop because I am convinced that Partner #3 is really the devil himself. The man is a demon! I really can't divulge where I work and what I do. But, you know that the main bosses are "Partners", I work at a "firm" and I refer to the customers as "clients", I can bet you could guess.

There you go. Honest. Straightforward. Nothing held back. Gee, aren't the rest of you sad you didn't ask me that question that has been burning you up inside?

Don't worry. We'll play this game again real soon.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Toy of The Month Review - Curiousity Killed The Orgasm

I've always been a sucker for a hands free device. I love my bluetooth. I love the remotes for the TV, the air conditioner, the stereo and basically a voice activated anything. I nearly wet myself when I found the "say a command" feature on my Blackberry. No more scanning thru the 700 names in the phone just to call my Mom's cell phone (I cannot for the life of me remember it). All I had to do is hit a tiny button and the nice computer lady with the British accent would do the rest. If I could just get the "talk to type" working on my laptop, I would be ecstasy.

Wouldn't you know it, I've always been intrigued by the hands free sex toys. No more putting down the TV remote to work another vibration angle. I can't begin to count the number of times I've picked one up off the shelf, looked it over, then put it down to check out another item. This month, my curiosity got the best of me and I emailed my contact over at Eden Fantasy's and asked for the Power G Arouser. Once again, I let my eyes do the buying and I picked out something colored purple. I also read the reviews and everyone else seemed to like it. How could I go wrong? It is also made without phthalates. I'm trying to be a good girl and go green.

As always, it arrived discreetly packaged like a present from Grandma. The guys at the post office think I have an eBay obsession. Little do they know, I'm trying to find new and exciting ways to get my rocks off. I picked it up during my lunch break (READ: doing an errand for the boss) and I struggled to get thru the rest of the work day knowing my next orgasm was waiting in my car.

When I arrived home I eagerly tore open the package and pulled out my latest prize. The Power G Arouser features a 3 1/2 inch contoured shaped shaft designed to hit your g-spot with a front nubby piece to tingle your love button and a back nubby piece to tickle your tush. The three straps are designed to hold the toy in place while you relax and control the power with a small remote.

I was a little disappointed that directions were not included with the product. It took me a few minutes to get my bearings and figure out how to strap myself in. One of the straps went around my waist and the other two straps went around each thigh with the toy firmly nestled in. (I will tell you at this point I ran in to the bathroom to check myself out in the full length mirror and had a good laugh. I looked like I was about to hitch up to a rope and go rock climbing.)

Exhausted from the set up, I laided back, grabbed the remote and checked out the vibrations. The lowest setting was disappointing, so I cranked that sucker all the way up to high. The vibrator part vibrated, but the little nubby pads that were strategically placed to hit those "special places" stayed immobile. It seems all of the power was concentrated on the shaft and not where I needed it. Not one to back away from a challenge, I opened one of my favorite erotic novels and decided to read to get the juices flowing. After all, this was a "G-spot" toy. I could give it a few more minutes.

15 minutes later....nothing. I took a break for a few hours and tried again using my favorite porn movie this time....nothing.

Sadly, I had to give up (not before I pulled out late months favorite and polished myself off in 30 seconds. The bunny and I have become BBFs) My desire for hands free had left me orgasm free.

On a scale from 1-10, (10 being the highest) here are the ratings.

Strength of vibrations: 2

Ease of use: 1 (It takes waaaaaay too long to set up)

Water Play: n/a (sad!)

Quietness: 9 (Everything is internal. It barely whispers)

Power Use: n/a (Uses 2 AA batteries. I've since taken them out for use with other toys)

Cleaning Ease: 7 (Wipe with a soft cloth moistened with water)

Fear not, lovers. Another toy is on the way. Those fabulous little elves at Eden are sending me something else to find my orgasm. Poor Big K. He's gonna have to pump up the volume until it arrives.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

I'm gonna copy BadAss and Daddyfiles on this one as I am so exhausted from work that my creative juices aren't flowing as well has they should be. Sure, I have tons of notes, ideas and half finished posts. It's just that when I have a chance to sit down and write (READ: after 11:00 pm), my brain refuses to give up anything witty and dynamic. So, I will be taking this weekend to rev up the old noggin and bust out some excellent junk for y'all.

In return for your patience, I will offer you this: Ask me anything. The floor is open. I know that you must have some perverse, inappropriate question(s) that float around in your head while you read my blog. Seriously, lovers. I will answer the most off the wall question you've got. Ask one question, ask 20. If you're feeling private, email me at instead. All answers will be posted on Monday.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Move Over Botox

We all want to be younger, tighter, less wrinkled, less hairy, taller, thinner, shorter, curvier - I could go on forever. We color our hair, wax our netherregions, shave, pluck, bleach, pick, stretch, stuff, polish and buff. Still, we strive for perfection (Damn you, Pamela Anderson) Listing all the items that I'd like to change about myself would require a large pitcher of margaritas, a nervous breakdown and a computer with 2 terabytes more of memory than I've got. I'm always looking for the next best thing. Too poor and too chicken to invest (yes, I said invest. Beauty is an investment) in plastic surgery, I try all the creams, oils and potions that the drug store can supply me with. I spend hours at the gym to hold off the signs of aging. I refuse to give in gracefully.

My desire for perfection has never gone down south. Sure, I keep my Ladybits tidy, but I figure, what you see is what you get. Short of doing my Kegels, nothings gonna change down there. I have no desire to travel the path of porn stars -tweaking and nipping. No surgeon is going near my WooHa unless he plans to use his tongue as a scalpel.

So, I'm surfing the web the other night - maybe checking out some porn, when I came across the latest trend to reverse the signs of aging: Anal Bleaching Cream.

I kid you not.

For all of you who have struggled for years with the agony of an aging butthole, I give you Butt Bleach. Now, you too, can have that perky, cheeky anus of your youth. Dead God....what will they think of next? Just because they did it on Dr. 90210 doesn't mean you should try it in your bathroom while shaving your legs.

First of all, it's bleach. BLEACH!!! Obviously, it's not the same as the Clorox you dump on your sweaty gym socks. But, it's a chemical all the same. Do you really want to put that in one of your special places? Second, how does a butthole look "old"? When I think about that general area, I'm more inclined to obsess about cellulite, zits or hemorrhoids. Those are the things that the general public may view when I'm sashaying around in a bathing suit. There are only two people.....well, ok...three if you count the Box Doctor......okay....wait...four counting the Wax Nazi.....yup....that's it. Let me start again. There are only four people on the planet that have the luxury of viewing my back end in all its glory. One is in it for health purposes. The Second is in it for torture and hair removal purpose. (Believe me, she would have told me if there was anything wrong in that area. She's not one to keep quiet.) The Third is me and I'm all set. The Fourth has no complaints and is just fine with it. (That's TH if you were keeping score).

If you're not satisfied with bleaching just your hole, this product can be used on you WooHa and nipples. Never be satisfied with destroying one sensitive part of your body. Nuke 'em all!

I will not be trying this. I'm fine with my bum, thankyouverymuch.

P.S. While researching this post I read more about gay sex than I ever had before. I am now, sadly, an expert. I tried to stop reading, but couldn't peel my eyes from the monitor.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Popping My Cherry and Bouncing on Big K

I'm still recovering from my weekend in hell and trying to catch up on everything that I missed. Four days may not seem like a long time, but for Partner #3, you'd think I've been gone 6 months. Yesterday, he told me he appreciated me.

(I'll give you a minute to compose yourselves. I was a shock to me as well.)

Well, he didn't tell me to my face. He left me a voice mail. And, yes....I saved it. I will need next time he leaves me in a puddle of tears and I'm contemplating running out into traffic.

Poor TH. You'd think that I've been gone for six months with him as well. I've been chasing him around the house for the past 3 days, trying to mount him every hour or so. The poor man is exhausted when he gets home from work. Instead of being greeted by his smiley, happy wife when he opens the door to the house, he's greeted by a sexual demon who is foaming at the mouth and begging for a quickie before dinner. I really think I have worn him out this time.

I forgot to tell you all about my guest post. Mad Woman from Mind of A Mad Woman asked me to guest blog for her while she's moving to New Zealand. This was my first guest post, y'all! (Except for the time I did a HASAY post for lovely Miss Casey)

So go over and check her out. Read all about the reasons you should NEVER ask me to guest blog!

Wednesday, August 5, 2009


I have a very strict rule that I follow to the "T". Never be good friends with a coworker or boss. (Except Fancy Pants. He's my like my little brother). Having a relationship, other than professional, with a service worker such as a hairdresser, manicurist, mechanic or anyone else you need to help you through life is a bad idea as well. Something always goes to shit and you have to start the painful search of finding new somebody. I realize this puts a huge damper on friend finding possibilities, seeing as my life is basically made up of work and appointments, but I figure I'm saving myself tons of aggravation. In the past, I've had to look for a new hairdresser twice. As I have posted before, I have the worst luck when it comes to friends. But, lately, the tide has turned and I've met some really wonderful people.

I bet your wondering where I'm going with this, right? Well, the other day I found out something about one of my coworkers. The information came to me through an outside source and was very much work related (not personal). Upon learning this information, I went to talk to my coworker and let him know that I knew. He seems perturbed that I had this information, but thanked me for telling him. Then he asked me to keep quiet about it. "Of course", I said, eager to be friendly and accommodating. But, when I sat back down in my office I realized my mistake. I couldn't be quiet about it. My position at the the office demands compliance and I had to tell my boss.

My stomach was sour all day as I battled with my conscience. Even though we weren't friends, I felt like I was betraying the associate. I also knew if I didn't tell my boss I would be in even bigger trouble. When the news came out, it would eventually leak that I was privy to this information well in advance. My boss already has trust issues with me. (I'm related to a major client and he's convinced I might slip and give up confidential info. I always get the "Now this is a secret..." talk before we discuss a huge case) If it got out I was withholding sensitive information, I would lose all the trust I have so desperately tried to build.

So, I told. I told and almost immediately, I felt horrible. I knew I was doing the right thing, but it felt so wrong. And the worst was yet to come. Now, the problem would need to be addressed. The associate would know that I broke my promise.

I hate confrontation. I hate it with a passion. I'm one of those people who likes to talk about things over the phone or prefers to write a letter. I have come to realize this makes me a huge pussy. Even though my boss offer to take care of things for me, I knew that I had to come clean. I had to tell I told. It was the right thing to do. I asked my boss for 12 hours to do the deed.

This morning, after I sat in my office for an hour sweating and shaking, I walked to his office with a heavy heart. I stood in his door way and confessed. The look of shock and disbelief on his face was like a knife to my stomach as I tried to stand tall and be professional (and tried like hell not to cry). I told him why I had to do it, that it was my job and I had no choice in the matter. I apologized for breaking his trust. He was so angry with me and worse, he was disappointed. I fled to my office like a coward, sat shaking in my chair, taking huge gulps of air and trying not to fall apart.

I do my best to put up a rock solid front and prove to everyone in the office that I have balls of steel. But on rare occasions, my vagina makes an unexpected appearance - metaphorically speaking. I became so upset that I "had to do an errand" and cruised in my car for 15 minutes to calm my nerves and swallow the gallon of tears that were clogging my throat. I returned to the office, my brass balls polished to a gleam and my vagina all wrapped up.

I doubt he will even confide in me again and our relationship will never be the same. This is why it is impossible to be close to someone you work with. If we'd been friends, I would have lost more than a coworker. It has been the most difficult day. Thank God, I'm leaving for vacation in two days!

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Random Tuesday Thoughts - Too Much Information!!!

It is amazing what people will tell me. Some days I feel as if I have a sign scotch taped to my forehead that says "Dump Inappropriate Information Here".

Here is a sampling of things people tell or say to me that I just really don't want to know about:

*Partner #1 told me he doesn't like armpits. What the hell am I suppose to do with that information? And more importantly, why did he tell me that?

*Fancy Pants told me sometimes he likes to wear boxers over his boxer briefs because he "doesn't feel contained enough" with just one pair. Now I'm wondering if he's hung like a horse. It's a gross feeling because he's like my little brother.

*While buying tampons, the woman at the cash register said to me "These ones just won't work for me" Holding up the box I put on the counter. "I have a heavy flow"

*Just the other day, I was in the breakroom getting coffee. One of the other associates walked in as I was leaving. Trying to be polite, I said to him, "How's it going?" He said, "Well, that groin injury that I had a few days ago is getting much better"

*Upon meeting my neighbor for the first time, she told me the reason that she was pregnant was she didn't know prescription medication made birth control pills ineffective.

I leave for the triathlon on Friday. I have taken that day as a vacation day, yet I am still coming into the office before I take the bus to the airport. I need therapy.

I hate the word "titties". Something about it just gives me the creeps. Especially when I guy says it to you and is trying to be sexy.

I was drinking tea the other day when Fancy Pants strolled into my office and one of the many things he does to drive me nuts....touch stuff on my desk. He proceeded to dunk the tea bags up and down in my mug. I yelled at him to "stop tea bagging". He told me "if we were tea bagging, my balls would be out". Good Lord! What have I done to this kid?

By the way, when FP said "balls", I laughed so hard I nearly wet my pants.

We have an office meeting today and I'm afraid there will be donuts again. I wish that Cosmo would stop bringing them in. They are like little deep fried glazed clouds of heaven. I've already picked out a spot on my ass for the cellulite to adhere to.

PayPal is run by the Devil. I hadn't used my account in ages and it was still in my maiden name. When I tried to use it, my bank didn't recognized the name because everything else is in my married name. 3 hours later, 3 (BIG) glasses of wine, lots of pacing and I STILL haven't gotten it fixed. Their "conflict resolution department" is "looking into it".

That's a wrap, lovers.