Surprisingly, there's not a single cuss word.

To Whom It May Concern:

I have the good sense to know when I'm being insulted. I hope you have the good sense to know when you should be ashamed of yourself. I'm letting things go (...again), but only because I sincerely believe you do not, in fact, have the mental capacity to realize how infuriating your comments and actions are.

I deeply hope that someday soon The Hubby and I will be able to move far, far away from here and everyone we know. Those who would actually be missed are important enough in our lives to hopefully understand that no amount of distance can destroy a strong relationship, because at this point those who matter are considered family anyway. And we always find a way to connect with the family members that matter, whether it's through phone calls, texts, Facebook, or Twitter. Or those super-fun road trips we all love, but that don't happen often enough.

In the meantime, to those who infuriate me and make me want to move as far away as possible, I will borrow the words of a dear friend of mine: You make me want to reach out and touch something... violently.

XOXO,

The ZB

I could be the only one in the world that deals with this, but I doubt it.

For all the other married chicks out there... Anytime you have a conversation with a dude and he finds out you're married, does that kill the conversation and any future possibility of conversation or even *gasp* friendship almost immediately? Does this same phenomenon occur if you're not married, but in a relationship?
For all the dudes out there, married, divorced, in a relationship, single, whatever... Do you really ALWAYS think we were interested in you like *that* in the first place??

This is something that has truly pissed me off from the first time it happened to me. You see, I've always gotten along well with guys. I was raised around guys, I have a "guy" sense of humor, and things are generally more relaxed and goofy with guys than it is with girls. (Of course, this is by NO MEANS a blanket statement applying to all females--I've got some seriously awesome girl friends--they know who they are!!--who aren't all-gossip-no-goofballing, and I value those friendships probably more than they'll ever know.) And it's not what you might think--I'm not the super-flirty chick that hangs around guys for attention. Trust me, I know the difference. In fact, I didn't have a lot of boyfriends growing up because I was always considered "one of the guys." I was always someone they joked around with, not someone they'd seriously consider dating. So that's where I'm coming from with all this.

This is why it hurts and makes me absolutely furious when someone I've been joking around with now has nothing to do with me, and won't even hardly look at me. It's not like I was looking for a new best friend or anything, but what the hell?! All the sudden, since you know there's no chance of fucking me, I'm not worthy of your time, even a "Hey, how's it going?" Honey, there was no chance of that in the first place. And I have a HUSBAND, not THE PLAGUE. I'm sure "marriage" isn't going to rub off on you if you stand too close to a cool freakin' chick (if I do say so myself!) who happens to be married.

This just really makes me re-think my defense of guys and their sometimes douchecanoe-y behavior. It really seems to prove that guys and girls really can't be friends, but cheese-and-rice don't people usually at least make an effort to not make it so damn obvious what's going on?

Hey man, we work at the same place. We're gonna see each other occasionally. You think I'm not gonna remember the way you just treated me? Fuck you. I'm a human being, not a target for you to try and aim your dick at.

I'm tired of this shit. And everyone there still keeps on wondering why I'm so quiet, why I never fucking smile, why I'm not appearing to be absolutely fucking thrilled to be there. Guess what? Even though I am dealing with some serious depression right now... I smile a lot. I talk a lot. I joke around a lot. I laugh a lot. Ask *anyone* who knows me. You're just not worthy of it anymore.

I think I'll start opening conversations with new people--guys, anyway--with "Hi! I'm [actual name here]. I'm married. Go ahead and pretend you never spoke to me now, since I'm pretty sure that's how this works." Then I'll walk away, so I don't get pissed to see them do it first. Otherwise, they might try to laugh it off and pretend that wasn't going to be the case... But then that'll still end up being the only conversation we have.

But some part of me still feels like that's a bunch of bullshit. How the hell am I supposed to handle this kind of thing?? I am totally *flabbergasted* by this. Am I doing something wrong? I've never been one to hide behind the husband, using him as an excuse to not have to meet and deal with obnoxious people. Although I prefer someone else initiating conversations, I really do like meeting or just talking to people, even if it really doesn't seem like it. Am I taking it too personally? Never mind, I know I am, but it seems impossible for me to just let it go. Please help! What am I supposed to do in these situations?

The Painted Toenail Apocalypse

I recently came across the story (stories, really) about the reaction to the J. Crew article featuring pictures of designer Jenna Lyons painting her 5-year-old son's toenails pink. Who knew that wielding a tiny paint brush could cause so much of an uproar? Apparently she should have known that painting her son's toenails hot pink will lead not only to his gender confusion and definitely "choosing" to become gay, but will also lead to *nobody* wanting to have and nurture children or join the military.

Because that's the *obvious* result of such careless action.  At least it is according to Dr. Keith Ablow's opinion piece (on none other than the Fox News website, of course!). Some of my favorite quotes, accompanied by my own personal commentary:

This is a dramatic example of the way that our culture is being encouraged to abandon all trappings of gender identity—homogenizing males and females when the outcome of such “psychological sterilization” [my word choice] is not known.

(Believing that spending time with her son by painting his toenails pink--she says it's his favorite color--is a dramatic example of anything other than spending time with her son is frankly astonishing to me. I guess if he wants to watch Dora the Explorer, she's brainwashing him to support illegal aliens through learning how to say "door" in Spanish?)

Well, how about the fact that encouraging the choosing of gender identity, rather than suggesting our children become comfortable with the ones that they got at birth, can throw our species into real psychological turmoil . . . Why not make race the next frontier? What would be so wrong with people deciding to tattoo themselves dark brown and claim African-American heritage? Why not bleach the skin of others so they can playact as Caucasians?

(Now I'm not saying he's a "well-known" psychologist, but the fact that he believes we can freely *choose* our gender identity is irresponsible in his profession, to say the least, let alone forcing them to just "become comfortable with" the one they got at birth. Sorry sir, even I know that biological sex and gender identity are two totally different things! They teach you that stuff in even *introductory* psych classes. Also, anyone else sick of the dramatic snowball crap that these assholes use when it comes to this topic? Gay marriage leads to marrying animals, polygamy, etc., now hot pink toenails on 5-year-olds leads to light-skinned folks in "black face" and darker-skinned folks "playacting" as Caucasian. Right. Sound logical argument there!)

And while that may seem like no big deal, it will be a very big deal if it turns out that neither gender is very comfortable anymore nurturing children above all else, and neither gender is motivated to rank creating a family above having great sex forever and neither gender is motivated to protect the nation by marching into combat against other men and risking their lives.

(Wow.  Selfish current and upcoming generations, with their whole "GTL" fascination. Apparently it's not just a few individuals, it's everybody. And it's no joke. But that's not my real point here. Since when has there been problems with people who don't feel  like they were born in the right body NOT wanting to have children and start families, just like everyone else? I thought the Neanderthalic (is that a word? Nope, not according to spellcheck) assholes (that one is for SURE) were all pissy about LGBT couples/individuals WANTING to have children and be able to join the military? So... is that off now? Have we changed our mind about that? In any case, I'm sure it would definitely be a big deal if nobody ever in the whole world ever wanted to do either of those things ever. But logically? Yeah, that's not gonna happen. Unfortunately, assholes like you will continue to procreate smugly in the knowledge that none of your children will ever question anything if you have anything to say about it.)  

Jenna Lyons and J. Crew seem to know exactly what they’re up to. That’s why the photograph of Jenna’s son so prominently displays his hot pink, neon toe nails. These folks are hostile to the gender distinctions that actually are part of the magnificent synergy that creates and sustains the human race.   

(Yes. Spending time with her beautiful 5-year-old son doing whatever activity he wanted is clearly a hostile action. It was a massive liberal conspiracy, which frankly I'm surprised conservatives on your so-fair-and-balanced network didn't make up in order to point out such massive liberal conspiracies. I'm sure Glenn Beck has some pictures of some crowds that attended the nail-painting event.)

One of the saddest parts of this whole thing for me is that I actually liked Keith Ablow as an author of psychological thriller/suspense novels. I'm really sad to see that now... Well, you know.

Sigh.

Dear "The Office,"

Hi. I am a big fan of the American version of your show.  I'm sure I would also be a fan of the original British version had I ever watched it, but alas, I never have. Perhaps if I had, I would have become a fan of the whole shebang sooner than a couple months ago.

You see, what has kept me from watching all this time is the person playing Michael Scott. I have harbored a healthy (perhaps not-so healthy, really) dislike for Steve Carell for... well, pretty much forever. He seems to play the same character no matter what he is doing, and although it obviously has worked very well for him, I hate that character. Very strongly. It causes a serious, visceral reaction, where I want to growl and throw something at the screen. I still feel this reaction when it comes to his "work," but things have changed. I have made this exception.

A few months ago, Dear Hubby began watching the show on Netflix. It was on our only TV constantly, and since we have a smallish house and Dear Hubby considers ear-blasting to be the only acceptable volume level I simply could not escape either the sight or sound of it. He had expressed surprise from the beginning that I didn't like the show, since it definitely seemed to match my sense of humor. Turns out, he was right... once immersion in the show helped me to focus on the other characters, who are AWESOME, I came to love the show. Granted, I still wanted to punch Steve Carell in the face, but I was more easily able to overlook his antics and appreciate the way other characters interacted with him.

Imagine my dismay tonight when I tuned in to a new episode (Super amazing, by the way!! Loved it!!), and finally discovered Will Ferrell would definitely be replacing Carrell. The anticipation/dread has been building since I heard he would be leaving, because I have only just gotten to where I can tolerate him, and could only see things getting worse with the new "boss". I had no idea. The only person I hate worse than Steve Carrell is Will Fucking Ferrell. Well, Will Fucking Ferrell, Tom Cruise, and Sean Connery (I know, that one seems blasphemous to many but it's a long story...). But I knew there was no chance the replacement would be Misters Cruise or Connery, and I had heard the rumors about Ferrell. My only consolation is that Will Ferrell will only be *temporary*--rumors are that Will Arnett will eventually be moving into the position, and I'm okay with him. But still... I'm not sure how many episodes will be featuring Douchecanoe Ferrell, so I don't know how many chunks of hair will be missing from my head by the time he's gone. I can only hope that my schedule will be such that I am simply unable to watch. Please remember your reluctant fans when it comes to casting in the future. I'm sure I will eventually cave into the curiosity and watch these dreaded episodes, but please understand that it will be past folded arms and narrowed eyes. Best of luck!

Hugs,
The ZB

Damn you, St. Patrick's Day. Damn you.

Apparently today is a holiday of sorts. A holiday of green beer, green baked goods, leprechauns or otherwise small jaunty Irishmen, shamrocks, bad accents, parades, limericks and other bad poetry, and an assortment of other stereotypes insulting to the proud Irish people. Well, I assume they would be insulted if they weren't too drunk to notice. *BA DUMP-BUMP*

It's also a day that I declare dedicated to whores and assholes, be they Irish or be they... not Irish. Bear with me on this one: What happens on St. Patrick's day through all the drinking and the green cake crumbs pasted all over the faces of office-workers desperate to believe they're having fun?  You get pinched if you're not wearing green. This is where the whores and assholes come in.

These assholes are most likely easy to spot based on their totally original "Kiss Me, I'm Irish!" tee-shirts, pins, trucker hats, belt buckles, and beer helmets, as well as the bloodshot eyes, leering grin and the stench of their mother's disappointment. (Odds are you would already recognize this particular breed from their tendency to otherwise be sporting gel-spiked hair while wearing Ed Hardy tees or message shirts saying things like "I'm not as drunk as you think I am". They probably also frequently quote Dane Cook.)

But you must also be on the lookout from the whores, who, let's face it, act like they're just wanting to get a pinch from one of the assholes. They're the ones who will wear no obvious green, only to giggle and fake outrage when pinched, as they beg you to look into their eyes--because their EYES are green, silly! *giggle giggle* (*facepalm* Everyone knows that doesn't count!) Or they'll slyly attempt to peel down the waistband of their too-tight skinny jeans to show their potential suitor their bright green panties. "See? I'm wearing green!" *eyelash-bat giggle giggle*  You might think they're just looking for an ass-pinch, fellas. But then they'll be furious when you do it, as well they should be. Never pinch a stranger's ass, even if that stranger appears to be a whore.

Keep in mind the poor fellow who mistakenly thinks St. Patrick's Day is a trumped up holiday and therefore forgets that some random day in March dictates the color tie he should wear. Or the person who vehemently despises the color green due to the inability to find anything that doesn't look like strained peas or baby shit when they're wearing it. Or someone who is colorblind and therefore buys everything in colors that they can easily distinguish, green being a typical blind spot. None of this matters to me.

I despise holidays which *force* you to participate with an immediate, physically violent punishment for neglecting this duty. This is the only one I can think of right now. Therefore it gets all of my loathing. Even New Year's Eve is somewhat forced because you are *forced* to accept that you didn't even come close to sticking to the previous year's resolution, and you might as well donate that size six "goal dress" to your more attractive sister. She had picked it out anyway, knowing damn well your fat ass wasn't gonna be laying off those pints of Ben & Jerry's anytime soon. But nobody pinches you for not "participating."  This is where the "assholes" come in, and trust me, they're out in full force and drunk to boot on this particular holiday. No matter what your excuse, if you're not sporting at least a green sticker you're getting pinched. True assholes will pinch even if you've got some green, claiming they didn't see it anyway. These are the bastards that'll be sneaking up behind everyone to pinch them, because most people will be able to at least find something to pin to the front of their shirt, but might not think of the vulnerable back of their shirt.

In any case, I don't like being forced to participate in a holiday of any sort through the threat of violence. And to me, a pinch is violent. (I bruise easily.) However, I must admit that it's a highly persuasive threat, due to the bruising factor, so I'm wearing greenish cargo pants and green knee socks. My shirt is black and gray, though. *Boosh*  You pinch me, I'm calling the motherfucking cops. Asshole.