Misogyny: hatred, dislike, or mistrust of women.
You don’t think about it, you never do. The subtle little ways that they let you know that they hate you. You accept it as normal, the status quo; it’s so much a part of your every day life that you simply don’t see it.
Except when you do.
Recently I purchased a spiffy new iPhone that I’m head over heels in love with. So in love with it that when I go out to the local pub to meet up with friends for drinks, I’m often yelled at to put the crack phone away. Yeah, I love it that much.
When I purchased it, I knew that it does not currently support MMS messages, but the software update is expected sometime this summer. Having seen friends’ phones in action, I expected to be getting text notifications with a link in the event someone tried to send me a picture or whatnot. Since I rarely get pictures sent to me anyway, I didn’t think about it much.
In a conversation with a friend yesterday, he mentioned having sent me a text message the night before. I stared at my phone and assured him I had not received one. He insisted he had sent one. Being a stickler for always being right, I logged into my AT&T account and checked. Not a single text message from him. A few I had sent to him, but none from him. He has an obnoxious tendency to not reply to texts, so it never occurred to me that there was a problem.
Well, see, Mr. Smarty Pants sends all of his messages to me in MMS format. Always. Highly annoying, but will he fix this little “feature” on his phone? Nooooo, of course he won’t. Realizing that the format of his messages was the problem, I contacted AT&T to find out why I wasn’t getting the notification at least.
The first person I talked to was a nice young man who checked my account, told me he didn’t understand what the problem was, and did some strange reset that required me to turn off my phone for a minute and then turn it back on. I had a co-worker and another friend send me pictures via text to see if I got the notification, but alas, no such notification appeared. After roughly fifteen minutes of going back and forth and testing, the customer service rep gave up and told me he would transfer me to iPhone support.
The second person I talked to was another very nice young man who did some brief trouble shooting and said he couldn’t help me, because the problem was in the service itself, not the phone. Apparently, while he’s iPhone support, he has nothing to do with AT&T. Why the first person transferred me to him is still a mystery. And with that, after another fifteen minutes gone, he transferred me to yet a third person.
Some things are not forgivable. Deliberate cruelty is not forgivable…
…always come back to haunt them.
Sometimes you gotta get damn angry to get beyond. And you can pretty much color me righteously pissed the hell off.
Everything you do in your life comes back to you at some point, and the way we treat others will come back around. I did something once that I should not have done, it was done out of petty spite, and it came back to me in the form of someone else doing something to me. Karma is a bitch.
It’s all well and fine to find yourself in the position of being someone else’s Karma, but eventually, someone else is going to be yours. Everything comes back around.
Promise.
What the hell is up with “friends” who don’t understand the meaning of the word “no” and keep insisting that the best way to get over a broken heart is to have sex with them? Obviously, that’s not a friend. More like, ugh, a vulture.
Last night I was slightly put off, but when I got up this morning, I realized I was actually pretty damn pissed off.
When a woman says no, respect it.
When a woman asks you to stop touching her, just stop.
When a woman asks you to leave, just get the fuck out.
The funny thing is, there was a small chance that at some point I might have become interested in him. That small chance has gone to absolute no fucking way in hell thanks to his lack of understanding the word no.
The part that has got my knickers in a twist the most? I didn’t even realize how pissed off I was until I woke up. I separated myself from my emotions last night and refused to acknowledge them. I tried to focus on the positive aspects of the evening, tried to find a reason to believe that this was NOT happening to me again.
Screw this, leaving town for the day. I’m beginning to hate NoVa. I’m outa here. Back tomorrow.
Just when you think life has pretty much kicked the absolute living shit out of you and a door slams shut, you find another one slowly opening.
Ah, choices. To walk through, or to turn away? To live for my dreams, or to live for the moment?
Whatever is a girl to do?
I know you can’t kill them personally, but can we please arrange for all the people who are bothering me to die painful deaths anyway? And let them live in your realm forever and ever? Wherein I might stop by on occasion and laugh at them and try out my delicate hand at torture?
They are so totally getting in the way of my shoe shopping.
kthxbai!
xoxo
~Sabre
I tried to fire Tuesday. Wanted that bitch escorted off the premises without so much as a “best of luck in the future” and time to collect its things. Apparently, Tuesday had enough support in HR that it was allowed to return, with a warning and some serious training.
Wednesday, having spent far too much time emulating Tuesday, is on the verge of being fired. Being an amicable type soul, I’ve informed Wednesday that it does have an opportunity to stay employed. However, it must meet certain criteria. If not, it’s OUT.
Thursday has already been warned that I’m on a warpath and one more unscheduled server outage will have it standing in the unemployment line next to Monday.
How’s your week? Fired it yet? Wander over to Is Today Fired? and voice your opinion.
So the stove blew up some time back, and finally I’m getting a new one…
Except I’m sitting here blowing out an entire afternoon waiting for Sears to arrive and bring me my new damn stove. ::headdesk::
Because, apparently I have nothing other to do than wait.
As if.
-update- Maybe the universe heard me grumbling? About five minutes after posting this they called to tell me they were on the way. I have a new stove! Yay! The cooking shall commence! Who’s coming over for dinner? Poohda, swing by and get Rob. K~ stop off and grab Mara. Fran, grab Jeannie. I expect you all to be here… what… next week? Where’s the transporters when you really need one?!
I got a new stove, people! I’m in happy land!
*bounce*
Having recently found myself in a situation I had tried to avoid being in, it occurred to me that the reason I was in the situation in the first place was because I had chosen to overlook more things than I should have.
It started out innocently enough. A little glassing over of the eyes here, a turning a deaf ear there. A simple way of avoiding things that I felt were, while not trivial, certainly not life shattering. But it all started to get to the point where I was feeling a bit of a gnawing at my insides as things progressed. Having overlooked a thing or two in one place in my life made it far too easy to overlook a thing or twenty in a few critical places in my life.
Things I should have never overlooked in the first place.
In more places than is even remotely acceptable.
Of course, the question becomes, “Why do that to begin with?” A thousand reasons. You see a piece of lint on your jacket during a meeting and you are at a cross-roads. Do you flick it off your breast right then, drawing attention to said breast, or do you wait until later, knowing that you’ll get busy and forget and that when you do finally get to it that one piece of lint has mutated into a small army that even duct tape isn’t lifting off?
I’m guessing a lot of people would flick it off right then. A lot of people aren’t me with a keen awareness of the fact that half the people in that meeting are already staring at said breasts. So I wait, demurely, and get pulled into something else. By the time I get around to it… well, yeah. Mess.
*sigh*
This is one of the reasons I stopped wearing black jackets! Srsly!
There are a lot of you who’ve known me for a great many years… and I’ve had more than a few people ask me when the hell I became so nice. And I always answer that I don’t want to keep carrying around pieces of the past that had me seven shades of pissed off for so many years. In dealing with my fair share of nut jobs and whack cases, I’ve become increasingly more easy going, laid back, and maintain a “whatever” state of mind.
Until I get painted into a corner - as someone else would say to me.
And then I remember why I was always such a bitch in the first place. Nice guys never win and nobody likes the nice girl. Blah blah blah. You can all roll your eyes, but you know it’s true.
I had me back for a little while last winter, but I was so overwhelmed by what it took to get me back that I froze and eventually reverted to the nice girl who doesn’t deal well with conflict.
Yeah, fuck that noise. And so I’ll turn my naval gazing (I’d say mental masturbation - that’s all this type of blogging ever really is - but I know how you perverts are!) inward and make a lovely list. You could say it’s my deal breaker list. And you could say that it applies to several aspects of my life. You could also say that I expect to begin employing it immediately. In fact, I’m pretty sure some of it has already been set into motion.
You could also say I’ve had it with bullshit from several corners of my life - and that shit ends now.
This has been a Sabreland Public Service Announcement. Thank you, drive through!