When You're Screwed, You're Screwed

I don't know about you guys, but this election season has about done me in. The scary harpy bitch and the crazy motherfucker are a lose-lose proposition. What the hell is an independent gal to do come November? I have never failed to cast a vote whether it was local, state, or national. I cannot let the Washington wackos break that streak! I can't remember a time when the political landscape was so bleak. It was bad enough from day one that all of the assholes from either direction couldn't stop the lies from falling out of their mouths, but here we are just a few short months to E-Day.  I cannot even bring myself to watch news of any kind on television, and the shit that passes as "journalism" on the internet is even worse. We have lost all civility in this country. Where did it go?  Well, I guess I better get back to my Netflix. Binge-watching "Lost" takes me back to simpler time.

Oh yeah, BTW, someone teach these Sanders folks  Economics 101. I don't think they get it. Nothing is ever FREE.

It's a Man's World, and that Man SUCKS BALLS

I've just about had it with my new boss. He's, for lack of a better term, an complete and utter dumb ass. And not just your typical, run of the mill dumb ass, but a fucking chauvinist dumb ass. If only I could relate to you the bullshit this ass crack has pulled in the 9 mos he's been my boss. Let's just put it this way: he does not like the ladies to ask questions or push back. I've been branded, along with the only other female employee he supervises as a "hysterical female."  He said that. Not to my face or hers, of course, but my damn desk is next to his office. I heard him say it clear as day. He didn't realize I was at my desk. And now he's a bit scared of me. That does not, however, preclude him from trying to get me to quit at every turn. So, I'm looking for a way out that means I can tell him (without anyone else in the vicinity) to go fuck himself. Seriously. I don't know how he got this job. Well, maybe I do because the shit show of a manager that hired him is basically the same. I'm not making this up, people. It's for reals. No less than 4 times has he prevented my female colleague and I from moving to another position. We both had to write something extra for our performance reviews because he cannot put together a sentence that is coherent or related to what we are reviewed on. His opinion of things keeps creeping in, you see. We've both been to HR. Shockingly, nothing has happened. Well, I should say that nothing POSITIVE has happened. So now, I'm stuck looking for a new job (my female colleague just took a job she didn't want to get away from this buffoon) while this piece of greasy shit does nothing but collect a paycheck and look for ways to fuck me over. I'm a semester and a half from finishing up everything but my dissertation. I can't really leave the area. And the area is small. I'm finally meeting with a staffing agency this week because two crappy part time jobs are infinitely better than working for this skid mark on the shorts of humanity. To top it all off, the company has been bought by bigger, badder corporate entity that has really made it all shits and giggles around here with oppressive policies and no communication on changes until the day they occur and must be enforced. But I digress. Just pray for me. Send some good mojo. I'm going to start on my voodoo doll for the asshat I'm stuck with currently. Seriously, I want to punch him in the crotch and stab him in the neck simultaneously. How did he get this fucking job? I'm at a loss.  Dickless wonders will never cease, I suppose. 

I Hate Politicians...

Greetings, friends! It's been too  long! I have a new set of ramblings (read: rants!) because it is an election season. I really dislike politicians. All of them. I don't believe any of them are worth a piece of hamster shit. What I really don't like right now though, is the inequity of the media coverage of the parties and potential candidates. First, no one can have watched the different debates and not seen a clear bias in how GOP and Dem candidates were treated. The questions, people, the questions. Fucking ridiculous. Now let me preface the posting of the following with this caveat: I am an Independent. I am not affiliated with Republishits or Democraps. What I do is my research. I have never made it a secret that I think Hillary Clinton is completely disingenous at every turn. At this point, in her fifties, I doubt she even knows how to take off the fake ass mask she puts on. Here is what I know: She makes bad decisions and lies. Now granted, you could say that about anyone and everyone who runs for office nowadays. However, I find her brand of lying very scary and insidious. Why? Well, I'm glad you asked: 

• When Bill Clinton was president, he allowed Hillary to assume authority over a health care reform. Even after threats and intimidation, she couldn't even get a vote in a democratic controlled congress. This fiasco cost the American taxpayers about $13 million in cost for studies, promotion, and other efforts.
• Then President Clinton gave Hillary authority over selecting a female attorney general. Her first two selections were Zoe Baird and Kimba Wood - both were forced to withdraw their names from consideration. Next she chose Janet Reno - husband Bill described her selection as "my worst mistake." Some may not remember that Reno made the decision to gas David Koresh and the Branch Davidian religious sect in Waco, Texas resulting in dozens of deaths of women and children.
• Husband Bill allowed Hillary to make recommendations for the head of the Civil Rights Commission. Lani Guanier was her selection. When a little probing led to the discovered of Ms. Guanier's radical views, her name had to be withdrawn from consideration.
• Apparently a slow learner, husband Bill allowed Hillary to make some more recommendations. She chose former law partners Web Hubbel for the Justice Department, Vince Foster for the White House staff, and William Kennedy for the Treasury Department. Her selections went well: Hubbel went to prison, Foster (presumably) committed suicide, and Kennedy was forced to resign.
• Many younger voters will have no knowledge of "Travelgate." Hillary wanted to award unfettered travel contracts to Clinton friend Harry Thompson - and the White House Travel Office refused to comply. She managed to have them reported to the FBI and fired. This ruined their reputations, cost them their jobs, and caused a thirty-six month investigation. Only one employee, Billy Dale was charged with a crime, and that of the enormous crime of mixing personal and White House funds. A jury acquitted him of any crime in less than two hours
• Still not convinced of her ineptness, Hillary was allowed to recommend a close Clinton friend, Craig Livingstone, for the position of Director of White House security. When Livingstone was investigated for the improper access of about 900 FBI files of Clinton enemies (Filegate) and the widespread use of drugs by White House staff, suddenly Hillary and the president denied even knowing Livingstone, and of course, denied knowledge of drug use in the White House. Following this debacle, the FBI closed its White House Liaison Office after more than thirty years of service to seven presidents.

Next, when women started coming forward with allegations of sexual harassment and rape by Bill Clinton, Hillary was put in charge of the scandal defense. Some of her more notable decisions in the debacle was:

• • She urged her husband not to settle the Paula Jones lawsuit. After the Starr investigation they settled with Ms. Jones.
• • She refused to release the Whitewater documents, which led to the appointment of Ken Starr as Special Prosecutor. After $80 million dollars of taxpayer money was spent, Starr's investigation led to Monica Lewinsky, which led to Bill lying about and later admitting his affairs.
• • Hillary's devious game plan resulted in Bill losing his license to practice law for lying under oath to a grand jury and then his subsequent impeachment by the House of Representatives.
• • Hillary avoided indictment for perjury and obstruction of justice during the Starr investigation by repeating, "I do not recall," "I have no recollection," and "I don't know" a total of 56 times while under oath.
• • After leaving the White House, Hillary was forced to return an estimated $200,000 in White House furniture, china, and artwork that she had stolen.
• What a swell party - ready for another four or eight year of this type low-life mess?

Now we are exposed to: the destruction of possibly incriminating emails while Hillary was Secretary of State and the "pay to play" schemes of the Clinton Foundation - we have no idea what shoe will fall next. But to her loyal fans - "what difference does it make?"

I'm very concerned that this woman might become our President because the media softballs her, and fanatical Democraps blindly follow her. 

But what do I know, right? 

I'm Still Here...

I am only enjoying my job most of the time. It's relatively easy, low stress, and I have a set schedule where, if I go over, they actually pay me for my time. Of course, there are some drawbacks as well. There seems to be this push to sell shit, and while I understand it, I fucking loathe having to sell anything. We also get one call a week recorded and scored at random by a department that uses "metrics" to give us some bullshit percentage to decide whether or not we get a bonus each month. Now, so far, I'm doing well with that piece of my "metrics". However, there is this one area that seems to count way too much when you don't have any kind of control over it: call backs. The way it works is that, if you were the last agent to speak to this person, and they call back for ANY reason within 7 days, then somehow that gets counted against you. It doesn't matter if it is a call for something completely different than when you solved their problem. It doesn't matter if they are on a stupid ass cell phone that drops the call  in the middle of the conversation requiring them to call back to get a resolution. You still get dinged. This really seems quite unfair, considering it's 40% of your overall score. The goal percentage is somewhere around 11.5%. Sassy is at 13%. Now technically, I'm still training. However, every time I am scheduled for "developmental coaching," metrics are always discussed. Generally, I'm receiving positive feedback and constructive criticism. I'm not averse to criticism at all. It's the only way to gauge progress and to improve. Plus, I'm grown. Some of the other idiot sacs that are in the group get pissed off every time they get any feedback they disagree with. As it is, I'm looking for a second job because this one really doesn't pay me enough right now to meet my financial obligations long term. My savings is taking a hit. There is the opportunity for OT, which I have scheduled for a couple of days this week. However, I'm not sure I want to work OT all the time. I guess I will if I have to, right? 

As for my classes, they are getting a little better. I'm doing well, so I can't complain...much. I have also made some pretty good new friends. Here's hoping a second job I can work part time comes along. I don't want to worry about money...it aggravates my insomnia. 

New Job, New Bitches

So having moved to Big Sky Country, I had to find a job to support myself while I'm going back to the money-sucking university to get another degree. I found said job in customer service at a well-known satellite television provider. Now, for the most part, I have enjoyed the first 5 weeks of training and have done very well. But as you know, my patience for bitches is next to nil. The training class I'm in currently is the largest they've had in quite a while at Satellite TV. In this class, I have found some entertaining and mainly awesome people that I get to hang out with outside of work (saving me from drinking bottle after bottle of wine by myself in my tiny little house in a city where I know next to no one). Unfortunately, the class is full of twenty-something idiots that have the "look at me! pay attention to me!" problem that most of this generation seem to have these days. The compulsive and fucking annoying need to comment on EVERY-FUCKING-THING is too much. I mean, the fact that they know next to nothing about life doesn't seem to dawn on them. Seriously. They suck all the energy out of the room and leave it devoid of any intelligence whatsoever. It's all I can take. Luckily, we have gone through all the classroom part of the training and are now on the phones. I thought this would mean I wouldn't have to deal with most of them. Wrong. On my "team" are two of these ball sacs. One can barely make it through a sentence without telling us about her eidetic memory and how awesome she is. So you can memorize shit quickly and effectively. Good for you. Unfortunately, you can't fake empathy or sound less than robotic when you speak to others. You are sad. Get over yourself. The second one has to argue with EVERYONE about EVERY damn thing. It really doesn't matter what it is or if he's wrong, he's gonna argue. The problem with this is that, between him arguing with whatever our team leader and job coaches say and the other one having a comment and letting us know how awesome she is, shit takes 10 times as long to get completed. This works my last nerve because, frankly, I don't give a damn what either of them has to say at this point. And the fact that they seem to think they are clever by repeating whatever I say with what they seem to think is a southern accent is getting tired. I've not said anything yet. I've kept my mouth shut and gone about my business. But holy hell, they are working my last nerve! So my advice to all the millennials out there: You are not as great as you think you are. Go tell your mom. You have yet to accomplish anything remotely grande enough to have the level of overconfidence you possess. So shut the fuck up already! Those of us that earned our confidence want to punch you in the face and the crotch. 

Hopefully, I'll find a better paying job in education once hiring season starts here for next school year. Otherwise, you might see my face on the news for going ape shit on two co-workers at a call center. I'm this close, people. 

Grizzly Adams Lives, and He Might Be A Serial Killer

So I arrived in Montana just over 2 1/2 weeks ago. It has snowed here and there, and I'm almost completely unpacked. Almost. Of course, ole Sassy can't go ANYWHERE without meeting "interesting" people. I have a disease, and it's called "one of those faces." Since I arrived in Big Sky Country just before the Christmas holidays, I was unable to schedule delivery of my washer/dryer until after Christmas. Thus, I had to go retro and take my dirty laundry to a local laundromat. 

Sparkle Laundry is not a bad place. They provide a TV room, lay out the day's paper, and even have a snack bar that will whip you up a mean cappuccino. Fuckin' A. Plus, they provide you with as many quarters as you want (bonus!) without looking annoyed when you ask for change. As I loaded a couple of washers, I noticed a rather large, hairy gentleman sitting at the snack bar. He didn't look homeless really, just a bit scraggly. He reminded me of Grizzly Adams from that old TV show.  After I got all my undies in the washers started, I decided I needed a diet Coke. The man at the snack bar was reading Nietzsche, so we had brief discussion on some of the common themes that I had knowledge about, and I quickly ascertained this guy was a 54 yr old career student. Scary. As I sat down to read the paper, Grizzly Adams decided to come and chat me up. Now, I don't want to sound like a snob, as I'm no such thing. However, he seemed a bit...well, off. Here is a snippet of our conversation:

GA: Well hello there! What's up, pretty lady?
SB: Um. Hello, how are you? (I am from the South, and bad manners are not tolerated!)
GA: Funny that you ask. Do you know how frustrating it is when your dehydrator isn't working? I'm completely out of jerky. (I shit you not, he said this!)
SB: Oh, I'm sorry. I guess you could just go buy some emergency jerky at the store though, right?
GA: Store jerky?! That stuff is full of chemicals, and I don't even think it's really what they say it is. It's dog. 
SB: Oh no! I don't think they could use dog to make jerky. There has to be some law against that. 
GA: Sweetheart, do you really think the government cares if we eat dog? They purposely put shit in our food to control us. (Ok, at this point, he's gone beyond eccentric in my book and totally on to being totally fucked up)

(At this point, I'm starting to get a little worried that he might either be carrying his firearm (or several) or a vial of anthrax. He's getting the friggin' bug eyes and starting to twitch. I began to wonder if maybe he might be high on something.)

SB: Uh, well...what do you put in your jerky? (Why? Why did I not just stop talking??!)
GA:  I usually use elk or deer. They make the best jerky. 
SB: So you are a hunter? My dad likes to hunt too.
GA: I only eat what I catch and kill myself. I won't let them control me. 
SB: Them? 
GA: Have you been listening to me? The fuckin' government! (with this statement he pounded his fist on the bar)
SB: Oh. Well, I don't think I could do that. I'm not much of a hunter. I don't necessarily have a moral objection to regulated hunting to control populations and as long as the animal is used for food, but I don't really believe sport hunting is right. And I am absolutely creeped out by the whole idea of taxidermy and hanging animal heads on walls. 
GA: (Smiles) I could take you hunting. I have a cabin just north of town. 
SB: Thanks all the same, but I don't want to be a hunter. Ever. I couldn't do it. I tried it before and just couldn't. I think my loads are ready to dry now. (start to get up)
GA: (Puts his hand on my shoulder as I am getting up) That's too bad. I think you would enjoy my cabin. (wink)
SB: Sorry, dude. Thanks anyway. I gotta get my laundry done, or my old man will beat the shit out of me. 

Okay, people, is that not totally serial killerishy? I kept cutting eyes at the soda jerk, but he was quite engrossed in his Nietzsche....or pretended to be. WTF? My skin crawled the entire last 45 min. I was there, and Grizzly Adams was a fucking starer! I finally took my last load out of the dryer early and got the hell out of there. I just hung up what wasn't quite dry once I got back home. Of course, I was completely paranoid about every noise I heard at night and couldn't sleep for the next 3 days. I slept with my friggin' gun under my pillow. I am definitely a weirdo magnet! I didn't even start the conversation. And the fact that the soda jerk didn't even twitch makes me even more uncomfortable because I fear this might be what passes as normal conversation in these parts. Holy shit! So now, everywhere I go, I'm on the look out for Grizzly Adams. Call me paranoid, but it's been two weeks, and I'm still completely creeped out by that conversation. If I don't write anything in a few days, call the police. I may be hanging on a meat hook in Grizzly's cabin just north of town awaiting my fileting so that he can make Sassy jerky. 

(Other than this incident, people have actually been pretty nice, and  you cannot beat the scenery. I even got a job tip from my satellite installer that panned out. Gainfully employed is good. Serial killer victim, not good.)

What's up with y'all?

Ain't Nuthin Gonna Break My Stride...

Well, well, well. I see that many of you, like myself, have been far too busy to blog. That's okay. I forgive you. And myself. I'm just that kinda gal. I return to you today with some epic news (okay, maybe not epic but still news) regarding my current living situation. After the Mayberry shakedown I received, I decided that I was taking a full 3-week vacation to sort the shit out in my brain. After a wonderful road trip that included Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, North and South Dakota, and Idaho, I decided to make a serious life change. So I applied to several doctoral programs. I got accepted to all of them. I chose the University of Montana. So yes, I'm joining John Mayer and escaping to beautiful Montana. Granted, I'm not going to Bozeman, but I could still blog a John Mayer douchebag sighting here and there. So after months of planning, I'm hitting the road and relocating in 3 weeks. I've secured housing for me and my remaining pups (I lost my Pug and Boston this summer due to old age), resigned effective December 31st (of course, I have numerous personal days that will allow me to leave in the aforementioned 3 weeks while still getting paid because the Head Shed never granted me a real vacation in the past 4 years), and I'm changing my life. Mid-life crisis, you ask? Perhaps. I just kicked the latest man to the curb, so I'm free to pursue any number of virile manly men that the state of Montana has to offer. Mostly though, I'm just relieved to leave. Who knows what will happen? What I do know is that these fuckers can kiss my ass as I walk the hell out. I'll even mark the spot for them. Of course, many people (even those whom I actually care about) have decided that I am crazy, stupid, or otherwise because I'm making such a drastic move. But then again, I've always done this kind of thing.  Sure, I could have stayed here, gotten another job (actually was offered several), eventually agreed to marry the latest BF, but I don't know that I would have been as happy as I am right now. There is nothing more exciting than a new adventure! Do I have a job? No, but I will. Do I know anyone? No, but I will. Plus, I will be Dr. Sassy soon enough with a little hard work and a lot of confession (goodbye, Father Glenn! woo hoo!). So be nice, bitches, and wish me well! Mayberry is soon to be in my rear view mirror! The best part? It was on my terms. Fuck you, Head Shed! I win!

Somewhat Down But Never Out

As in previous posts, I believe I've made clear the bullshit that is going on in Mayberry and the campus I was "promoted" to. I use the quotes because evidently this was not a true promotion but simply a person to deal with all the shit for a year until they decided to move someone else over there. Yes, folks, it was not a permanent move. I have been deceived, abused, and worked to within a foot of my grave so that the Head Shed could install their golden child. WTF? Here are the highlights of my recent shit storm:

1. I neglected my family, friends, and personal life to take over at a troubled school at the REQUEST of the Sheriff and his minions for the past year. I shuttled out 5 idiots, reorganized the scheduling, instituted some much needed systems, and generally won back the support of the parent community and students. Then I find out that the job wasn't really ever mine anyway. Interim was never removed from my contract language as promised.

2. I hired some excellent staff. They are high performers and professionals. They don't engage in gossip and visit the rumor mill. They do their job and are nice to kids and parents. Unfortunately, there are far too many assholes that have been at the school forever. I hope they don't ruin my people! Additionally, I went through all of the aggravation of preparing a building to be shut down as there are new facilities for next year that the school will be moving into. Right now, all my shit is over at this new facility. I will not, however, be moving in.

3. I was the victim of vicious lies and gossip. I ignored it because anyone that knows me or has worked with or for me knows better. It has persisted and gotten more insidious. I have held my head high and given them the social finger in my mind for going on 14 months without losing my cool and responding unprofessionally. Right now, however, I would love to kick some serious ass and verbally shred some bitches.

4. I have consistently disagreed with the #1 Minion on some key issues, mostly because this person was making judgments and assessments based on looking at some numbers from a test. While I knew it was at great personal risk, I never believed this person would make it their mission to take me down in the eyes of the Sheriff. Guess what happened?

5. The Sheriff has pretty much checked out and left his balls in the pocketbook of #1 Minion. He's working on an advanced degree so that he can move on from Mayberry. He can deny all he wants, but according to my drivers license, I wasn't born yesterday. This leaves me with even greater concern that #1 Minion might be the Sheriff in waiting. Holy shitballs, I'm screwed if that's the case!

6. In this state, test scores are king. The school's test scores this time around were still better than last year's, but there were new requirements to get the ratings you want as a school this year. "My" school missed one of the requirements in one subject area by 2% points (the school would not have even be considered for a higher rating last year under the new requirements). #1 Minion has called this, "No better than complete failure." In two other subject areas, however, the school achieved it's highest scores EVER under my leadership. Who's the real failure here, bitch?

7. There was also an "informal" and evidently "anonymous" complaint made against me alleging that some of the rumors I listed in a previous post were true. #2 Minion, aka Skeletor, was told by #1 Minion to investigate. Basically, the outcome of this witch hunt was that, while they cannot be substantiated, evidently I'm the designated asshole on the Minion Coven's shitlist. I had to sit through a long ass session of having my fucking character assassinated with no recourse. No proof was given but guilt was assumed since someone else fucking said it. I find it fucking amazing that in the space of 14 months I have evidently developed a completely different and most horrible personality. Seriously?

8. At the onset of this "investigation", I obtained the services of an attorney in case they tried to bend me over on such nonsense. He is ready to move forward on some serious shit, but I'm trying to decide if I'm going to commit career suicide and sue for harassment and unethical labor practices. Depending on what they end up doing, I'm possibly looking at walking away from a 17 year career in my chosen field of work. Needless to say, I am a bit stressed.

9. The official word currently is that I'll be reassigned to a previous position, which includes a substantial pay cut. There were threats of possibly trying to terminate. Of course, I'm more than aware that there are absolutely no grounds. This means I would have to take things public, which they most certainly don't want me to do. I might lose a career, but they will lose money, credibility, and possibly their power as well. Due process was not given, and so I could really bend them over a this point.

10. I'm obviously working on an exit strategy with my reputation and dignity intact. I'm currently contracted for two years, so unless I commit some heinous crime, I cannot be terminated. I have done a complete data dump of my email, digital files, and meeting notes from the past 5 years that I'm storing here at home. If I am the subject of any retaliation or harassment for seeking the advice of counsel, I'm set.

All in all, I'm deeply offended, disappointed, and disheartened. It sucks to work your ass off for people and then become the target of some shady bullshit. Think good thoughts for me, my friends. I'm out there again filling out applications and sending out resumes and letters of interest hoping to start anew in a much bigger place. I'm just over this small town Mayberry shit. At any rate, I've learned something from this experience, right?

If I Was Getting This Much Action, I'd Be In A Much Better Mood

It's March...almost April, people! Where the hell has the time gone? Here's where:

1. The first semester of this term has flown by with countless aggravations. I'm worried that my promotion is really an experiment in sleep deprivation, stress management, and bullshit tolerance.

2. We are getting ready to move into a new facility, and I've just about decided that it could be years before I ever see a real summer vacation again.

3. Although I should be past expecting adults to act like, oh I don't know...ADULTS, it appears that after 40 yrs on the planet I've maintained way too much of my naivete. I've managed to piss off most everyone because I have these outdated expectation that people do their jobs, talk nicely to the youngsters in their care, and speak respectfully to their bosses. I know...crazy huh?

4. I live for one moment of peace. Just one.

5. I've given up red meat for Lent. Since I am a picky eater, I'm thinking this might be how I lose some weight because vegetarian fare is, in a word, disgusting.

6. I've been called a racist, a bitch, and accused of countless other crimes. It's amazing I'm allowed to walk around free, isn't it?

7. Some of the hilarious and seriously idiotic rumors going around about me: I'm evidently sleeping with just about every male I'm seen with at work; instead of being away at training, I got a boob job; I hired my new black assistant principal only because I'm sleeping with him AND he didn't speak ebonics in the interview; I hate religious people because I'm an atheist; the degrees hanging in my office were bought on the internet; I'm most likely pregnant and don't know who the father is, but he is likely my new AP; a few people were fired because they stopped sleeping with me; even though I'm evidently sleeping around, it's not just limited to men; I have a raging meth problem; I'm really a robot (okay...I made that up, but seriously, look at all the other shit!).

8. Although I've pretty much weeded out as many as the dumbass incompetents I can, there are those who seem to be untouchable...for now. I'm pretty sure that they are the idiots spreading the falsehoods listed above in #7. Unluckily for them, I have an infinite capacity to wait and work on them methodically.

9. Thanks to the Tea Party, I'm trying to figure out how to shave off $50K from an already stretched budget. I'm all for spending reform, but I can't really guarantee anyone can learn anything in a class of 45. All you rich fuckers need to pay more taxes already...otherwise your offspring will be even dumber than they already are. Additionally, how about the oil companies quit lying to us and kick in some money to the schools?

10. I'm seriously considering quitting my job and become a squatter at the Governor's Mansion.

Despite all of the above, I'm still working like a crazy person and sleeping only when necessary. My boss demands it.

How y'all doin'?

It's Hard to Shake a Case of the Dumbass

So I've been working like slave labor all summer trying to hire cool kids to replace the idiot sacs that left. So basically, I've been an interviewing whore all summer long...and now it's like a few weeks until school starts again. I actually crunched the numbers, and I've interviewed or pre-screened roughly 250 people. Yes, that 2-5-0. At this point, I'd like to take my ass to a beach somewhere and stay mute for a month. I know sign language, so I think I could pull it off. Of course, I'll have to look up the sign for "Belvedere martini, make it dirty with 3 olives", but I'm educated so I figure I can wing it.

During this "experience", I've learned a few things. So hang on tight while I lay some serious wisdom on your ass:

1. When a resume contains a space where some dumbass decides to list his supposed IQ, chances are he's the worst kind of dumbass. Here's a little tip for you, Mr. I-think-I'm-so-fucking-clever-for-trying-to-list-some-ridiculous-IQ number-on-my-resume: Unless you are Stephen motherfucking Hawking, John Nash, or that Marilyn Vos Savant bitch, your IQ number is a big, fat, fucking lie. Even Donald Trump wouldn't hire you just so he could fire you. Stupid ass!

2. Dear Aggressive Applicants: It is outrageously inappropriate to drop by my office unannounced demanding to speak with me about the position, as it is equally inappropriate to call me and leave a voicemail demanding a return call to "discuss your qualifications." It's like dropping in at someone's house that you don't know unexpectedly and inviting yourself to dinner and a skinny dip in their hot tub. Listen up Gen Y slackers and mama's boys, when you harass me for a job, I find myself hating you with a white hot, burning kind of loathing. If I wanted to interview you, I'd have called you in for, yes, a fucking interview. Don't make me get a restraining order...or my gun.

3. If in an interview you try to be everything you think I want, I instantly distrust your flip-flopping ass. And you don't care about money? Seriously? I'm smarter than I look, junior.

4. If you don't know the answer, do not, I repeat, DO NOT try to fake it. Those framed diplomas on the wall are real. I'm smarter than I look.

5. It's probably not the best idea if you chunk the deuce with a "Peace out!" as you exit my office after a lackluster performance in the interview. It only makes me think that you rented the suit and tie, and that your real wardrobe consists of pants near your ass, a backwards baseball cap, and a t-shirt that reads, "Everything's a good idea when you're drunk."

6. Hey Einstein: I check references. It's not a good idea to ever put bullshit on your resume. Additionally, you might want to ensure that your references actually have positive things to say about you. You cannot bullshit a bullshitter.

7. Finally: I realize that the economy is in the shitter, and many of you are looking for a job. Newsflash! Not everyone can teach, and just because some greedy ass program gave you an official-looking letter stating you are eligible to get a teaching certificate does not mean I want you anywhere near children. Or me. I'm convinced that the old adage, "Those who can't, teach, " should read in this new age, "Those who can't have gotten a degree in finance, business, marketing, or liberal studies." I'm infuriated that you really are delusional enough to think that your degree somehow trumps 2 of mine. Fuck off you no-job-having piece of shit!

Okay. There are SO many more pieces of wisdom I could share with the current job-seekers out there. I'm thinking of starting a side business devoted to contract killing just these kinds of people. I'm up for some help in naming my future corporation and for tag lines. Anyone?

No, I'm Not Dead. I Got A Promotion!

Hello friends! I'm back, if only for a short stay. Come on...you know you missed me. I've missed you. Yes, I have!

Things have been hopping here in Mayberry. At the close of last summer, I was moved to the local Mayberry High. I spent most of the year there until...I got a promotion. I'm now the head bitch at the nuthouse that is a junior high school. And I love it! I taught this age most of my career. Please, don't be concerned. I'm fully certified and even slightly qualified enough for the position. It's been quite hectic, as the promotion came in March due to some mysterious happenings that saw the exit of the last head bitch in a demotion. She was my friend until now. I know it's not personal, but it sure feels that way. It wasn't like I was plotting against her. I had no idea. She snubs me now though. Sad but true. So I should be deliriously happy, no? Well, I am excited. I mean, I didn't just show up and get the job...I earned it. But here are some highlights:

1. The place is teeming with full on idiot sacs. The one bright spot is that a good chunk of them have been given their walking papers. Yes Margaret, God is here, and He is listening.

2. No one can seem to solve even the tiniest, most minuscule fucking problem. Someone is constantly coming to my office with questions like, "There's no toilet paper in the ladies bathroom! Whatever shall we do?" Are you serious? Go get a roll for the shitter and leave me to my very important work, bitches!

3. Although I tend to rant a bit (!) here, I'm generally a happy and positive human being. This is not the case with many of the staff. Not only do they bitch and moan about no toilet paper in the shitter, they seem to think that college degrees are just given to blondes, and I evidently can't tell when some shady jackass is trying to pull one over on me. Attention: I am pretty damn smart. You do not fool me. You cannot bullshit a bullshitter. That is all.

4. The sheriff and his minions are seriously fucking micromanaging me. Witness an email I received recently after sending out a simple informational email to my staff:

"Sassy,

In reading your email to staff of May 13th, I'm concerned that you did not elaborate enough about the concerns we notified you of. Please see the attached to send to your staff. Ensure that you copy and paste into your email. Thank you!"

How about telling me that you are monitoring MY email to MY staff on MY campus that YOU chose to make ME the principal of? Now writing an email is like writing my master's thesis since I write and rewrite it 3o times because I know you bitches are watching. Thanks for that.

5. There are 3 minions that never seem to communicate and end up telling me 3 different things. This means at any given moment, I can be shit out of luck 3 different ways. With this kind of misinformation, I feel as if I'm working for the government...without all the days off.

6. If I get one more call from someone, parent or other, that wants to bitch about what happened before I ever came to the campus, I might slit my wrists. Listen up, people. I WAS NOT HERE. I CANNOT JUMP INTO A TIME MACHINE AND FIX ALL THE SHIT YOU FELT WAS WRONG BEFORE I CAME HERE. There is a week of school left. Cry yourself a river, build yourself a bridge, and get the fuck over it already. Your kid is not going to Harvard. Or Yale. Well, maybe community college...

7. A tip for anyone out there working with teenagers: They are teenagers. They thrive on drama. They will say mean and ugly things to you and everyone else. Get some self-esteem and stop fucking taking everything personal. Aren't you the adult? Here's a suggestion: ACT LIKE IT. And if I hear you be shitty to one more kid, I'm really gonna have to choke the life out of you. I cannot stand a bully. Or an idiot. Or you. Capiche?

8. This is the 3rd time I will get screwed at tax time because rather than spread my additional pay for the past 8 weeks out, you are giving it to me in a lump sum causing me to have to pay Uncle Sam at the end of the next tax year. I might as well just put it in savings to take care of the fucking tax burden you've bestowed upon me yet again. Thanks for the raise.

9. I have had to visit confession quite frequently for the above, and well also because there is some hot little 24 yr old coach that I want to crawl all over. Seriously impure thoughts about my subordinate. Rawhr! Luckily I have unparalleled self-control, or I might end up on television for sexual harassment.

10. I often imagine that I fashion a shiv out of a pencil and shank some of my employees. Of course, it's just annoyance at the pettiness and stupidity of a handful of dumbasses. I'm a lover, not a fighter. Besides, I fashioned a voodoo doll out of paper and use it to wreak havoc on them. No need going to jail over a case of the dumbass.

Seriously, I'm happy to have gotten the promotion. It's a big deal and what I have been working towards in my career. I just thought it would be under much better circumstances. Truthfully, it's all been a bit overwhelming, particularly since all eyes at the Head Shed are watching me....closely....so close I can smell what they had for lunch on any given day. They are truly trying to support me but smothering me is more like it. I keep thinking next year will be better. It has to. I don't like having to see Father Glen so often. He still has no fucking sense of humor. Shit! I just insulted my priest...again.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned....

Sleeping Under Erotic Art

So it's been awhile...how are you? I have been rather busy going here and there and generally sleeping far too much. But hey, I've been on vacation, and one has to make the most of time off, right? Right?? That's better. So I wanted to share an interesting vacation story because anyone who knows me knows that I cannot travel without something strange and/or painful happening to me. The dark cloud of travel just hangs over me, unfortunately.

So my friend Reedsy and I went on a cruise to Mexico. Her gracious husband decided to give her a getaway with a friend, and I was honored to be "the friend" in this scenario! Woo hoo! So we have a rather uneventful drive to our port and get ourselves on the ship. We were a bit dismayed to find that our cabin sported bunk beds though. But hey, it's not like we were lesbo lovers on our civil union honeymoon, so I took the top bunk since Reedsy has the bladder the size of a pea. After our first night on the ship, we had returned from dinner to our cabin. As I exited the bathroom, I could see that Reedsy was peering curiously at the painting that was above my top bunk bed. I only noticed it was some kind of gawdy-colored abstract but never studied it closely. The following conversation ensued:

Reedsy: Hey Sassy...um, look more closely at this picture. What does that look like to you?
Sassy: It's ugly as shit.
Reedsy: No, I know. But LOOK at it...
Sassy: Holy shit! That's vag!
Reedsy: I KNOW!! I knew I wasn't crazy!
Sassy: OMG...I've been sleeping under vagina...and wait, look at that!
Reedsy: What?
Sassy: THAT is an abstract man with a huge penis! And there's splooge!! In her hand! See it?? Holy shit!
Reedsy: OMG! What the hell?? It is!!
Sassy: We have abstract erotic art...penis and vag!!
(continued with deep gut laughter and a few "ewwws")
Sassy: We gotta get a picture!
Reedsy: Read my mind..I'm on it!

Here's the painting:




Yes, dear friends, I slept under erotic abstract art that week. In reflecting on what was an altogether fanfuckingtastic time, I still have a few questions for Carnival Cruiselines, however.

1. Could the bathrooms be any smaller? I mean, you couldn't move from the shitter to the shower without hitting your midsection on the sink. WTF?

2. Why the hell was alcohol so fucking expensive? I felt like one drink was $35. It's not like you're the Sky Bar or something! Get over yourselves! Duty-free my ass!

3. I understand the conundrum it must be to decide how to decorate an entire cruise ship. I mean, why go with a nautical theme when you can adorn the walls of your cabins with abstract porn? Is this REALLY where the built in gratuity went?? Who was your decorator: Larry Flynt circa 1982?

So, despite all of that, I thoroughly enjoyed snorkeling, horseback riding, rock climbing, ziplining, and rappelling....and some great quality time with my friend Reedsy. Plus, we had some great dinner companions from Chicago and Louisiana. Loved those two families! And our dining room staff performed quite well each night. And hey, we did get ourselves a bit tipsy in Cozumel. (Damn that Senor Frog and Jimmy Buffet) Unfortunately, the last day at sea I also fried my front side like a bad piece of fucking bacon...so bad so that just this past Monday did I finally stop peeling (3 weeks after the return and the second peeling)...despite the fact that I used 50 spf as my dermatologist insisted! Friends, did you know there is such a thing as "sun poisoning"? Me, I did not. However, it seemed strange to me that my sunscreen kept me safe all through our excursions in the sun and on the beach, yet the last day it did an epic fucking fail. Here's hoping that I don't get that imminent skin cancer that my negative ass dermatologist insists will happen to my fair-skinned, light-eyed self. All in all, I had a great time though!

Thanks again, Reedsy! xoxo

When I get a chance, I have few other stories to tell about what I've seen and heard...

Barbie and Jasper Cullen (with a lil boob on the side)

A couple of weeks ago, one of my oldest friends came out so that we could have a good old-fashioned girls night. We had made a plan to see this band called 100 Monkeys, of which one of its members is Jackson Rathbone aka Jasper Cullen from the movie "Twilight". Now, I'd never heard of them prior to her pointing me their way, but I was excited nonetheless. So we first view art at this gallery (art show was Mr. Rathbone's sister's), and then we headed to the upstairs of the art gallery where we were up close and personal in a rather intimate show with the band. I was rather impressed! We later hit up a pub where they were playing a midnight show, and this is where things get weird for ole Sassy and Reedsy (friend). So let me set the scene: It's a very warm, very humid night in Big D. A/C in Texas is a must, people! It's fucking hot, and you feel as if you are melting once you step outside the cool oasis that is central air conditioning. As we are sitting in this room that must have doubled for a fucking sweatbox torture hole with no ventilation sweating our asses off, Reedsy decides she'll grab the first round of beers. Now, while she's gone, I take a seat on this lounge chair thingy next to these two young women. As I am sitting there with steam coming off my body from the level of heat and lack of air, I hear one say to the other, "Oh no! You are SO much hotter!" I stifle a laugh because as I turn to look their way, I make eye contact with one of them who I swear looks just like a Barbie doll, down to her platinum blonde hair and flawless skin. Both are dressed in skintight pants and very low cut tops, but Barbie's boobies are fucking perfect! They aren't freakishly large or anything crazy like that though. It's unreal, and so I quickly make the determination that they are indeed fake boobies, and that she and her friend are most likely strippers.

Now, as is how it always goes with me, these ladies start talking to me, first about the band and what I know about them, and then about themselves. So I decided to ask them questions. I first ask if they are from the Dallas area, to which they both say no. "Chrissy" is from Ohio originally, and Barbie is from Houston. However, they've both just arrived in town today from Midland. I ask if they are living there for work or for school, to which they answer, "Oh, we work there." I reply, "Oh, so what do you guys do?" *Crickets* The two girls just look at each other with more than a bit of reticence. I mean, the pause was definitely one that you would refer to as a "pregnant pause". So I lean in conspiratorially and say, "Y'all are strippers, aren't you?" Barbie breaks out in a huge smile and says, "YES! But we prefer the term "dancers". How did you know?" I explained that the boobies gave it away. So ensued a conversation of about how it was the best investment she ever made, and that she and her friend bank about $200,000 a year "dancing". WTF? I have two degrees and $35K in student loans, and these bitches are pulling in $200K for taking their clothes off? Where is the justice in that, I ask?! About this time, Reedsy returns with the beers and hears the course of my conversation with Barbie and Chrissy. I lean in and tell her that Barbie's stage name is "Malibu", and that they pull in some major coin doing what they do. She replies, "You meet THE most interesting people, Sassy!" Then Barbie launches into the fact that she wants to sleep with Jackson Rathbone, or any of the guys because they are quasi-famous, they drove all the way down here, yada, yada, yada. Then she goes back to her boobs and that I should feel them. Pardon me? I tell her, I don't think so. She says, "But they aren't hard like other types of boob jobs, come on, feel 'em!" At this point she grabs my hand and puts it on her left boob...so I squeeze a little. Damned if they didn't FEEL REAL, people! Several friends have had boob jobs, and they always want you to feel them. (Yes, gentlemen, we cop a feel of each other in private sometimes...but it's totally innocuous you fucking pervs!). Anywho, I exclaim, "They DO feel real!" Barbie leans in, gives me a wink, and says, "That's because I got silicone not saline. Silicone tits feel real. Here, feel the other one!" Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that there were a few gentlemen that had gone from trying to just glance over at Barbie to outright staring as I copped a feel. So,I let her know that I can't cop another feel of her in public, so she laughs and goes off on some other tangent about how smart she is, the options she had after high school, and why she chose to become a "dancer". Yeah. Right.

So to end the night, we did get to talk to a few of the band members, but Mr. Rathbone was not talking to anyone other than his family that was there. So, we left and headed home. All in all, it was a top night. We got some great pictures, heard some great tunes, and met a real live Malibu Barbie. Plus, I got a little more action than I bargained for. All I know is, when I go for the new boobs, I'm totally getting the silicone. Ladies and gentlemen, I shit you not, they felt like the real deal.

**BTW Barbie was stunningly beautiful...with or without the fake boobies. She truly looked like a Barbie doll. She was sweet if not a bit shallow. I really have no judgment about strippers though. Live and let live, I say...

Shitty Neighbors Who Can Suck It!

Hello All! I've been very busy as of late trying to get my shit unpacked at the new place...which I love! Lots more room and a great big yard. I got new furniture, a new washer and dryer, and I'm closing in on my 2nd full week of being here. Which leads me to the latest bullshit. 

As you are aware, I have four small dogs. Now, I've lived several places with these animals, and I have never had anyone complain about them. I try to keep them in line. Recently, I had a visit from the 5-0 regarding a complaint about barking dogs. Of course, this complaint was vague, and I really don't think it was my dogs they were referring to, mostly because one of them had his vocal cords cut, two are old and not easily excitable, but there is one that can be a barker. However, my dogs mainly stay inside, and they aren't barking up a storm at one another. This I know for a fact! Perhaps now is the time I should mention that other than my neighbors who share the other side of the duplex, I am surrounded by people who own dogs. The lady next door in a different duplex has two barky dogs. The people behind me have a rather large dog that barks DAY AND NIGHT. So I find it difficult to believe that, in the short time I've been living here, it is my ONE little dog that is bothering anyone. So I asked the cop to tell me who made the complaint. He refused. I reminded him that I was pretty sure it was public information. He did not take that well. Needless to say, I just let it go. He was a complete dicksmack about the whole thing. Give me a fucking break...a dog that barks is that serious? I can't slap a silencer on my baby all the time...I mean there are times when she's gonna bark. Having said this, I KNOW she doesn't bark or howl or anything like that all day or night. How do I know? My former landlady remarked constantly how she didn't even know the dogs were there most of the time...and my little place sat directly behind her house where we shared the backyard. Shit, I could open my back door and see her bedroom windows.  But I digress. My immediate neighbors next door seem really nice, but the guy does work at night, so I hope it's not him complaining. At the very least, they simply could have come over and told me about it rather than call the fucking cops and report me for noise. Yeah...we're just a house full of party animals out here in Mayberry. Motherfuckers.

So, to you shitty, fucktard neighbors:

Kiss my big white ass and go suck it! You want complete peace and quiet, move out to the back 40 and get out of Mayberry proper. And don't worry, I drove by all the above mentioned places and took down your fucking addresses. The next bark I hear, I'm calling the Po Po on your hillbilly, white trash, small town asses. Mess with the bull, you're gonna get the horns. Oh...and kiss my ass!

*I'm so pissed!

Evidently, I'm a 13 yr. old Girl and Boy

So I'm packing a bit today. Yep, Sassy's on the move again. No, I'm not going anywhere other than moving into bigger digs and Mayberry proper. Please hold your applause.

Anywho, I have been packing, and I decided to start with my CD and DVD collections. As I was packing them up, I noticed that I have rather eclectic tastes in music and movies. Mostly, however, I just noticed that I seem to have the same titles in each collection as a 13 yr old teenager might have. Now I use the word teenager because I don't really know I could specify gender if pressed here. You wouldn't believe the crap I have (that I absolutely LOVE) in my collection. Yes, of course I still have my Culture Club's Greatest Hits. I mean, who doesn't? But I also have other examples of great music such as Spice World, The Chronic, and Shaggy. Movies? Well, there's "Dude, Where's My Car?", all the "Saw" movies, "Wayne's World", "Mortal Kombat", "The Fast and the Furious", well you get the picture. (By the way, I saw "Fast and Furious" this afternoon at the theater....Vin Diesel and Paul Walker? Rawhr!).

So, I'm thinking I should give away some of these musical and theatrical gems. I mean, I'm a grown woman, right? Ass sphincter says what??

It's Official....

I dropped a small fortune today for my sister's birthday gift, which also happens to make me very, very happy. July 24th at the Superpages.com Center (lame name), we will be all about these boys:



Although her birthday's April 15th, these guys don't come to Big D until July. Great seats and will try to score the backstage passes next! *SIGH* I love them...

Damn, I Love This Song

Do you ever get a song stuck in your head? Well, do you? I've been playing this song nonstop in the car for a solid 2 friggin' weeks yet I am still love, love, lovin' it! So if you see me pointing and singing in the car, you can almost guarantee that I'm either singing this song or my T.I./J.Timberlake "Dead and Gone". I'm stuck on these, bitches!

Show Me What I'm Looking For

Wait, I’m wrong
Should have done better than this
Please, I’ll be strong
I’m finding it hard to resist
So show me what I’m looking for

CHORUS
Save me, I’m lost
Oh lord, I’ve been waiting for you
I’ll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for…oh lord

Don’t let go
I’ve wanted this far too long
Mistakes become regrets
I’ve learned to love abuse
Please show me what I’m looking for

CHORUS
Save me, I’m lost
Oh lord, I’ve been waiting for you
I’ll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for…oh lord

Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for

CHORUS
Save me, I’m lost
Oh lord, I’ve been waiting for you
I’ll pay any cost
Just save me from being confused
Wait, I’m wrong
I can’t do better than this
I’ll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for
Show me what I’m looking for…oh lord

Seriously, I think if you showed up on my doorstep with a guitar, I'd jump on you without even asking if you actually knew how to play it. Boys with guitars...*SIGH* Show me what I'm looking for indeed...RAWRH! (Band's name is Carolina Liar that sings the song above)

*I am wondering these days if I should have been a groupie in my younger days...but now that would be just sad. I mean, leather pants are so uncomfortable, and my boobs are real.

I'm Getting Her on Facebook Next!

Hi All...short post today just to introduce you to a new blogger. My little sister has finally made it into the 21st century and started blogging. She went with Wordpress, which I guess is okay, but somehow I feel a bit betrayed. I mean, if Blogger is good enough for me, what gives with her going behind my back to Wordpress?? Ah well, you can only teach 'em so much, eh? Seriously though, please visit her! If she thinks people are reading, she'll actually keep up with it! She wrote a sweet post about yours truly. I'm still on my vacation, so I'm keeping this short! I'll be back with maybe a sad but true childhood trauma soon!

Now...if I can just get her on Facebook, my mission will be complete!

Girls Gone Wild...Kinda..Well, Maybe...Um, Probably Not

This weekend is a "Girls Weekend" with some of my sorority sisters from college. I'm hoping we are going to grab a cab and then hop some bars. However, we are older and wiser now, and so I'm worried we won't do anything but sit at the house and drink Merlot. Blegh. I need some down time, upbeat, dirty martini drinking, flirting with young bartenders, shaking my ass, throw-caution-to-the-wind kind of fun, people!

To My Girls-We are NOT dead! Stop acting like we're too old to let our hair down and have a little fun! I promise I won't tell your kids! Ok bitches, on three....

Have Skills, Will Travel

So someone give me a job! I mean, I'm seriously good at what I do! With all the talk of the underground here, I'm getting concerned that I might be promoted again and then I'll have to stay here. What's a girl to do?? If you have pull in the education arena, I'm willing to move to the following states:

Tennessee (I just like it there..Elvis liked it too.)
Colorado (What ISN'T to like there? Plus my BFF lives there!)
North/South Carolina (I like them. They're "southern people")
Arizona (Only in the northern regions...I don't want to live in the southern desert)
Virginia (Granted, Dyckerson lives there, but it's generally a nice place. Near the beach, please)

I might also be persuaded to move into your mansion and be a "kept" woman. Send me your financials, and I'll peruse them in my spare time. Oh, and you must love dogs, particularly my dogs, and they must love you.

Okay...I'll just wait here for the offers to roll in.....