Professionally insecure

I had an insecure day at work, and I’m attempting to reason with the cunt-y part of my brain that’s telling me I’m complete shit at the ONE marketable skill I allegedly have.
But the thing is, the bitch in my brain doesn’t run on logic. So, “Hey, you still HAVE the job, and you just had a good annual review and got a raise!” And she’s like, “NOPE, doesn’t matter. You suck at everything and should just hole up in your hermit fortress and stare at the walls forever. Oh, and you’ll do that ALONE, as long as we’re planning.”
This part of my brain should be in Congress. Can’t tell that bitch SHIT.
But also, fuck you, Brain. I’m gonna give you sleep, then baked goods in the morning, and tomorrow will be better. You go ‘head and try talkin’ trash with a face fulla scone. Wench.

My body is a traitorous beast.

Oh, cool, I knew something didn’t feel right — I’ve been a complete ass about taking my birth control and now my body’s like, “We menstruate, yeah? Wheeee, we menstruate!”

No, really. Being a woman is magical. 🙄


Yes, clearly, the way to get me back into your bed is to hit on me via my personal Facebook where MY DAD can witness your “game.”

Aren’t you proud, Daddy? He likes my rack! He called it “sexy” for you and all my former coworkers and college professors to see!

It’s perhaps egotistical of me to think that’s why he said it. But I can’t see any other reason to use “sexy” in a public forum, one in which you’ve seen me keep it clean for YEARS, and seen me interact with my family. Especially if that obviously wasn’t what I was going for; especially since the photo I’d posted didn’t show a damn thing for you to call sexy (I purposely cropped my cleavage because I’m a freak); and especially since WE BROKE UP. You don’t have “sexy” rights anymore — you don’t use that word with friends, and this is neither the time nor the place.