A genius or just blonde?

April 30, 2013 § 1 Comment

Posted Oct 4 2011

Every time I start a new job, or meet professionals, I sometimes feel my intellect is underestimated. People can be astounded when I give well-contrived multi-syllabic retort. Blown away by my outspoken basic logic. Simply floored when low and behold I have a more productive solution than the one they came up with.

I sport the blonde locks and have a pair of tits, but surely this isn’t an advertisement for a lower than average IQ. It’s got to be a misconception or I’m really a genius, turning the other cheek to the stupidity I’m surrounded by. I can’t tell if they’re just amazed I’m intelligent, or if they really just want to build my ego. It’s a weird paradox, and probably a gender thing.

I’m an independent contractor, two leanly toned guns for hire. I must adapt quickly to an array of personalities and lots of large egos. Most of these egos, male, and most of them wouldn’t know how to treat me even if there were pictorial directions on the back of my box. Seriously, I’ve had a director spend four weeks avoiding eye contact and I know he had successfully built an Ikea desk.

Don’t get me wrong, I play by their rules. I could write a textbook on acting like “one of the boys.” Sexual harassment? Please. The amount of philandering in the entertainment industry is more of a hazing ritual than a serious violation of employment code. Dick jokes, profanity, and the celebration of bodily functions is widely accepted and participated in by superiors. Manners have no place here. I call it “production mouth,” and you shouldn’t kiss your mother with it.

The first day is always a pissing contest. I usually stay quiet and let the bigger personalities measure their dicks over and over. When it comes to actually tackling an objective, that’s when I chime in. Work smarter not harder, right? Most women understand that, but men sometimes calculate worth in the quantity rather than quality. Did I say “sometimes?”  They rather a quick answer, a fix-it-later mentality. And I’m the genius for actually wanting to do it right the first time? They say, “wow, that’s smart.” It’s almost backhanded recognition. These are the same kids who would always forgot to put their name on the top of their paper in the 4th grade.

There lies my struggle: do they really think I’m smart, or are they just surprised I’m smart? Or do they veil their defeat in surprise because they can’t admit that I, all woman of me, could be just plain better?

Sure, on a long enough time line my true value comes through and we are able to work as adults, but before that it’s an uncomfortable song and dance. You can’t dress too girly, or they get intimidated, you can’t dress too casual or they don’t take you seriously. You have to be quick witted, take a joke and give it right back in the same breath. Your sarcasm must be sharp and you have to be light hearted yet firm when a joke goes too far. You may reveal a sliver of your personal life to make a trusted connection, but once you do you should quickly change the subject to sports and never speak of it again.

It’s exhausting and insulting. Then they gasp when you prove your worth as though it comes as a shock to them that you have a brain, let alone it could be better then theirs. Boys. That age-old excuse, boys will be boys. If I could, I’d shove some of my own intelligence up their asses just so it would be a better work environment.

However, another colloquialism: Rome wasn’t built in a day, ladies.

Babies. WARNING: it’s cute… okay?

April 26, 2013 § Leave a comment

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Beantown Folly

April 19, 2013 § Leave a comment

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Because after all that… those runners, that city, probably needs a laugh, and a reason to run again.

 

 

Trifecta of the Modern Woman

April 16, 2013 § Leave a comment

First Posted May 16th 2011

There is this unspoken “have it all” mentality that modern women try and fail at having the trifecta. And by the trifecta I mean the home, the job, the man. It seems that in my late twenties, I try so hard to have a handle on all of these things but can never quite achieve them simultaneously. I hear it only gets worse when you add a fetus to your womb. Even a ring on your finger could set it out of balance.

Just when one area of your life starts achieving a certain perfection another will spin out of control and domino until they all fall down. I suppose that’s life. It’s funny I see some of my friends with career success and covet it. Little do I know they’d give their slightly smaller right tit to have my “lucky in love” nature. Or I should say “easy to fall in love” aka “serial monogamous downfall.” Or that old friend who married a great well-off guy in her 3 bedroom house craving to set her inner business woman free. Secretly wanting to be the boss of someone at all times, knowing that kids don’t count as someone to be a superior to.

But count we shall, all the blessings. Turn a blind eye at what could have happened if we decided to take that job, stay with that guy, or move away. Take comfort that even if another path was chosen life still wouldn’t be held up tight like a fresh face lift. And know that even face lifts have scars.

Perhaps our fervor to achieve this trifecta is a status symbol in itself. We are constantly growing, learning, and building character for what is to come… retirement. I kid. I’m not sure it’s going to get any easier, and I’m not sure what will fall apart next, but in some way all the pieces fit together in the perfect puzzle of you, modern woman. Trying to have it all, isn’t losing it all. If there is any generation whose going to come close, I think it might be us.

A joke about wine… shocking, I know.

April 12, 2013 § Leave a comment

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Life Long Primping

April 8, 2013 § 1 Comment

Posted April 2011

There is no denying it, a lot of work goes into being a girl. And we hate on each other for god given elements of beauty. Some ladies would be jealous of my “naturally straight” hair, just like I curse the girl with the effortless curls. I am 100% jealous of the morning person because she always looks better than me for the simple fact that she doesn’t have to put her make-up on in the car. Just like I can’t stand Ms. Hyper-metabolism, yet persist in indulging in chicken fingers and Ben and Jerry’s on a bi-weekly basis (okay, more often than that, if I was being honest, but I’m not). And I wonder why I can be bikini ready year round.

The grass is always greener, eh? I suppose I am envied as well, I got a great rack. I don’t need to stress about getting a miracle into my bra, or misleading my public. The meat is there, and set up on the top shelf too. I suppose we should all be thankful for what we’ve got, but still, I would trade both of these sprightly jugs to be able to wear something strapless or backless without feeling like the two tubs of pudding clutched to my ribcage weren’t going to spill out of my armpit. It’s like at any moment: nipple. People just watch, waiting for it. It’s not only guys and lesbians, but straight ladies are just as mesmerized by large uncaged wild bosoms. I’ve tried everything to control these things to wear the fashion of the day, strapped in, pushed up, sticky boobed, peddled, all 27 ways to wear the multi-strap, every over the shoulder bolder holder imaginable. Oh the aching, the chafing, the sagging, the hiking up every 20 seconds, a strapless bra shouldn’t really be considered a bra at all. It does little to contain and support.

Oh the Madonna that walks out of her house braless, air dried hair, perfectly wavy and naturally highlighted, wearing nothing but a sun kissed complexion, some ol’ frock she found near the dumpster that just so happened to be practically made for her and somehow she’s completely hairless. I guarantee this woman doesn’t exist. Let’s be honest, some put more time in than others, but as a women living in the western world, select attributes are expected to look a certain way.

Shaved, waxed, bleached, lasered, plucked, plumped, trimmed, tanned, tucked, toned, tinted, shadowed, sprayed, cut, colored, curled, crimped, under eye concealed, powered, rouged, whitened, bronzed, moosed, greased, brushed, full bodied, styled, straightened, highlighted, lowlighted, hair-extended, flat ironed, non-frizzy, frosted, layered, heeled, skirted, belted, accessorized, moisturized, blown out, augmented, cleavage enhanced, pushed up, sucked in, smoothed out, invisible panty lines, lip glossed, blemish free, blackhead fighting, cellulite reducing, anti-aging, color coordinating, eye liner, lip liner, panty liner, facial masked, coco buttered, manicured, pedicured, Brazilian waxed, Brazilian blow-out-ed, yoga-ed, Pilated, worked-out, fitness goaled, lifted, chin up, shoulders back, legs crossed, low-carb, low-fat, fat-free, sugar-free, south-beached, detoxed, modest but sexy, conservative but suggestive, unique but trendy, simultaneously concealed and revealed, nonchalantly perfectly put together, purse preparedness, health conscious, environmentally conscious, holistic, realistic, poised, polite, witty, smart, charming and instinctually maternal. All day, every day while appearing as though it takes no effort at all. So let’s be allies instead of enemies, because everyone of us has gotten shit for leg stubble on the fourth day of a busy week.

He Wore Clogs?! Gross.

April 5, 2013 § Leave a comment

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