Peanut Butter and PMS

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I am on my period. You needed to know that because… I’ve managed not to lose my mind, yell at an employee, give Besty Lou in the Maroon Honda with the frizzy hair, army mom tag and the HUMONGOUS MAGA sticker, the bird while throwing my low fat cup of venti latte at her too darkly tinted window, or -and this is a big one- cry into my bottle of sparkling water whilst parked in the middle of the Westshore Mall Parking Lot.

I did however, manage to attend BNI, interview fifty leven unqualified and a few potentially qualified employees, attend my BNI Power Team Lunch, sit in on a random ass 1:1 with AB, Host another impromptu 1:1 at my office, pay bills, get the mail, and do banking amongst a ton of other things including holding my employees’ hands and blowing theoretical boo boos out of their eyes. All while feeling like Jesus Christ’s worse enemy was skateboarding through my uterus wearing bob sleds. giphy-2.gif

I’ve said it in the past and I’ll stand behind it now, PMS doesn’t MAKE women (people with uteruses? uteri? whatever) go the eff off. Nope. NOT EVEN. PMS just HELPS women (people with uteruses? uteri? whatever) go the eff off about all of the things that they should probably go the eff off about on a regular basis. How? Try dealing with insane amounts of pressure all of the time then add on top of that the pain of 1600 orca playing double dutch across your uterus. Then multiply that by the fact that something is leaking in your drawers, the leaking intensifies when you sneeze or laugh or breathe, AND it causes all sorts of hormonal changes from making you bloated to convincing you that you really need a chocolate bar, and a burger, and six bags of potato chips, 2 packets of skittles, and a hug from your 1st grade teacher Miss Hart and tell me how you handle it.

How would you deal with all of the hormonal stuff, aches, pains, cravings and then add things:

Like, that one employee who is about to lose his shit again for the tenth time this week.

Or, that one customer who already knows what’s wrong with their car and would’ve completed the repair at home except they don’t have a lift, or the tools, or fingers, so could you please do it for practically free?

Or, the one salesperson who calls you about the email that they sent two weeks ago who has managed to sneak through the new manager’s clammy grasp and landed flat in your lap and is now proceeding to try to sell you things and when you decline asks if they should resend the same email for you to review. Cause obviously you could understand the offer better if you’d just read the email that they sent you.

Or, the employees who spend more time on their cellphones talking to Rootie, Tootie, Fresh and Frootie than doing whatever it is that you’re trying to pay them to do.

Or, Listen to your business partner who is also your wife vent to you about the business relationship that you already told them not to get into, breaking up. Without saying I TOLD YOU THE EFF SO.

Or, the kid who needs to go and get slacks and a tie to wear to school tomorrow, cause duh, all football players have to dress up tomorrow, and of course Coach just told him and yes it’s after 6:30pm but aren’t moms supposed to drop everything and take them to get the desired items? And, also could you like hurry up and get through the ever increasing Tampa traffic to pick him up from school? Like, I know there’s never a set time for practice to be over but isn’t that what moms do? Run to school to get you whenever the fuck you’re ready???

So nope, I didn’t go the eff off. But, I also didn’t cook dinner and am likely going to eat spoonfuls of peanut butter while standing in the kitchen looking out of the window at my fence and pretend that I’m a famous writer and everything, including eating peanut butter standing in the kitchen looking out of the window at the fence is beneath me.

Ups/Downs 3.17.17

Today was a shitty fucking day. Things happened with an ex employee that I’m probably not supposed to talk about on the Internet which is a whole fucking problem in and of itself but I can say that dude was a FUCKBOI. Caps fucking locked.

 For close to two months I’ve felt like he held me hostage and I tried my fucking damndest to be professional about the situation because, unlike some people who are very short sighted , I play the long game. So I played his fucking game. And he still did fuckboi shit and quit in the most unprofessional of ways. And then today he and his raggedy ass, bitch ass, raising fuckbois for fun ass mama continued to try to rain on my fucking parade. 

Being the fucking Girl Boss that I am I pretty much ended the situation but every second of dealing with that shit  ate at my soul. So it’s not surprising to me that when I finally sat down for the day, my anxiety slowly crept up to panic attack on the floor of my dark closet hoping that neither my wife nor my son asks me what’s wrong cause my answer would be: EVERYTHING.

But it’s not. My day was actually great. I ran the shop next to my wife while simultaneously handling business for our other business, my networking Chapter, and our home.

 Really, I’m proud of Adrien because I am her and I don’t even know how the fuck she does it. Oh and while she was doing all of that shit she managed to figure out a way for Kitchen Table Literary Arts Center to convert more of their 1200 friends into fans on their Facebook page before they shut down their Yvonne Frederick page before the FUCKBOI of a Facebook shuts them down. 

So why if my day was really great am I typing this while hunched under a fuzzy throw on the floor of my dark ass clothes closet? Because I let a raggedy ass FUCKBOI and his bitch ass mama get all the way up under my skin. That’s why. 
Here’s a pic of me in a car making a face at Fuckbois and their bitch ass mamas. 

On the real: Death to Fuckbois 🖕🏾<- *middle finger emoji*