So recently I had the pleasure of working with a real manipulative bitch for 6 months and the project that we worked on finished this past Wednesday. Hallelujah. The project was a huge success and the outcome will last for many, many years. That's awesome.
Working side by side with this first class cunt was the most NOT-awesome thing that has happened to me of late. I know, the 'c' word trips some people up and they hate it, but I assure you, no one has worked quite so hard to earn the title more than this wretched woman has.
She's an early 30 something garbage pail with no sense of self-respect, humility, loyalty, or otherwise. She managed to completely alienate herself from the rest of the planning committee within days of kicking off our prep for the event. But what remains shocking to me is that, to this day, she has absolutely no idea just how unlikeable she is. There is a zero-level self-awareness factor that is just appalling to witness...it knocks discomfort levels off the chart for anyone within earshot of her, which typically means about 2 miles.
But what's the real kick in the ass is that she refuses to hear anything about how her behavior is perceived. One might think you could sit someone down and have a conversation and give some constructive feedback about what's working and what's not working. But this bitch just won't listen. I just don't get how people like her operate...and I guess I'm glad I don't.
So to hell with her.
On a separate topic - I love living in New York City if only because you absolutely cannot make some of the shit up that I see every day here. It's left me to wonder at certain points when some people learned that doing certain things was a good idea.
Let's first understand, before I delve into my daily observations of other people's questionable decisions, that it is a very tall order to be perfect. It is a cross that I carry with me everyday, and burden I would put on no ordinary man. I say this, of course, in jest while also knowing full well I have no room to really judge others given the woeful choices I've made in the past regarding my own appearance...blond streaks in dark brown hair...last summer. Need I say more? So let's resume - When did people learn that it was a good idea to...?
...grow a Mustache? Mustaches on the lips of otherwise very handsome 25 year old men - some of whom happened to be at a table in front of me when I was at lunch the other day with some friends. Why, boys? Mustaches are not okay. They were kind of hot in the 70s, but I think that's where they really just need to stay. More and more and more I see guys who I hope just lost a bet or are growing the 'stache out for a cause or something...but then after my excuses for them have run dry, I'm left fearfully wondering "what if?" What if they actually did it on purpose because somewhere along the line they learned that it was a good idea to grow a mustache at 25.
...paint terrifying eyebrows on their face? I saw this woman, probably in her very early 30s, on the subway a week ago who had no eyebrows. Now, normally when I see no eyebrows or any kind of absence of hair where it might normally be found, I wonder if it's either alopecia or heaven-forbid some kind of chemotherapy treatment that caused the hair loss to happen. However, this particular woman apparently, and very obviously, took care not to have normal eye brows and she decided it would be a better idea to paint on very thin black eyebrows that extended north nearly halfway up her forehead before swooping down around the outer rim of her eye sockets before coming to an abrupt end by the crest of her cheekbone. She was perpetually surprised. Even with a grumpy face, she was surprised. She looked like she just got into a fight with her boyfriend, and yet she was surprised. Shocked and surprised was she as she absentmindedly cleaned the dirt from underneath her fingernails. Where oh where, Eyebrow Lady, did you learn this was a good idea?
And finally for tonight ...store a cell phone next to their boob? Curious about this one, for sure. Chick gets on the subway and is checking herself out in the reflection of the window. Hair, makeup, outfit, ass...checking to make sure all of it was still there. I'm not entirely sure where any of it would sneak off to given that she was probably pushing 275 lbs, but that's beside the point. Her boobs were about equal to nearly 4 of my ass cheeks melded together. As the train approached the next stop, she finished primping in the reflection and stored the phone she'd been holding in her hand directly into the side of her bra on the outside of her boob. The outline of the phone nestled next to her boob's exterior was jarring to my visual sense and left me wondering what her pocket doesn't afford her that her boob does. A gaze in the right direction from an onlooker? Easier access? It was unclear, but absolutely something only to be seen in a place like good ol' NYC.
As for me? When did I learn that putting blond highlights in my dark brown hair was a good idea? I think Ricky Martin told me I could get away with it when I was in college. Then I tried it again thinking it'd be sexier when I was older. It was just so terribly wrong both times.
You're a liar, Ricky Martin.