Double Standards

A couple of months ago, we had a party at work. Now, my work is known for throwing parties. We're a partying bunch, and we're a drinking bunch, so it should have been no surprise when - following a celebratory dinner in the office dining hall - some of my colleagues and I decided we just MUST finish off all the open bottles of table wine.

We're also a fairly responsible bunch, so the finishing-of-the-table-wine was followed by the sort of deep and profound solve-the-problems-of-the-world conversations that wine can fuel.  In our case it was more solve-the-problems-of-the-organization, but still...  The kitchen crew, in their inestimable wisdom, took away our wine glasses and brought out glasses of water and airpots of coffee.  The evening progressed.

Grown Ups At Work

I manage a group of people.  If you only know me from here and from my Facebook identity, you might find that a hoot. Hysteria notwithstanding, I do manage people.  I'm supposed to be a responsible adult, the grown-up in the room.

I've been interviewing lately to fill a new position on my team.  It's been interesting, to say the least, because my staff is composed entirely of young men (ah, ya dirty perverts, it's not like that...). I'm faced with trying to find a new employee that has all the requisite skills, and yet won't likely be horribly offended by the rowdy locker room atmosphere of our group.

Keep your bodily functions to yourself

Dear Sperm Donor,

It is NOT the highlight of my day to walk in encumbered by both a large, heavy bag of groceries and my laptop case only to be serenaded by your ass explosions and grunts because you are taking a dump with the bathroom door open.

Nor is it the highlight of my day to have that magical sound and visual accompanied by the rancid stench of your efforts while I try to round up something to eat after the meeting I went to about our school system.

Oh, and thanks so much for NOT saving me some dinner, assclown.

Love,

DT

Lists

I'm a list maker.  I love to have a list of shit I need to get done, and feel the absurd satisfaction of crossing tasks off it.  I get a lot of heat for being a list maker. The Sperm Donor doesn't make lists - thinks it's silly, maybe, I dunno.  Of course, he doesn't remember shit, so it doesn't necessarily prove his case, now, does it?

I was thinking about lists on my way to work this morning. I'm up to my neck in projects at work, really starting to feel overwhelmed, and wondering why I wasn't making To Do lists. Probably because I can't keep up with one in that environment - it's too dynamic.  Walk into one meeting to report something done, walk out with three things to add.

I think that lists in my personal life have become validation. I can so easily be sucked into the morass of resentment that develops when I work around the house while the SD sits on his ass and plays on his computer, or watches TV. Somehow, his inactivity, his lack of participation, makes me feel like I'm not making headway.  So I itemize. I update my Facebook status with my list of accomplishments.  I'm not looking for a pat on the head from my friends; no, it's more a case of being able to see, right there in that list, that YES, I DID get an assload of stuff done today and I have every right to be proud of it.

Now.  Where the hell is that list?

Sleep over

The Sperm Donor went out last night, apparently for a little "adult entertainment". Rolled in about 11:30 this morning and spent the afternoon napping on the couch. He's lucky I was feeling merciful, or I'd have been vacuuming around the couch just to be mean.

Hope to hell he at least got laid...

He did look a little silly getting out of his car with his pillow and sleeping bag. Who knew they did sleep-overs at his age?