Because Tiffany said so.

I'm posting because Tiffany said so.
See:

hello lady.

did you quit your job yet?
if not, you need to post something else on your blog because i keep getting pissed everytime
i see that entry.

and, you know, it really is all about me.

right?

Okay so she didn't give me permission to post this private email message from her, but I think it's funny so I did anyway. See, that's what happens when you chat or email with me??

Everything you say could be blogged when I have nothing else to talk about.

Oh, I applied for a few jobs and Corey helped me update my resume. It's all sparkly and beautiful now... If you saw my resume now you'd think I deserved a good job!

You'd say, "DAAAYUM, that bitch needs hirin' up in here." Except you'd say it more professional-like because you are a business man or lady.

And I'll be working on my online portfolio tonight. I'm hoping I can finish it this week. I can't wait til it's up.

In other news... there isn't any other news. Thank you.

Here's a random chatlog with Nadine from a while back:

jen: how's Emma? [nadine's daughter]

11:01 AM nadine: good, watching seseame street

jen: sweet.

jen: done anything cute lately? besides everything.

11:03 AM nadine: well she found some bird poop on her swing outside this morning and then tried to get it off with her fingers

nadine: it was gross

jen: eww. i said cute, nadine.

nadine: then went inside and started eating a cookie before i could ge her hands washed

nadine: it was dried, thank god

jen: I SAID CUTE!

nadine: it WAS cute

jen: oh man. a mother's love.

Yeah. That's what motherhood does to you. Anyway. How's that for a post!?

Ass hats at work: Cleavage Attack '07.

For those of you lovely readers of my bloggity blog that aren't already awesome... you need to go here and join what the blog!? and then participate in the ass hat awards, which is run entirely by your bestest blogger friends Tiffany, Mikala, and me (you don't need a link to me, you're already HERE!)

Here's my ass hat at work story for the Ass Hat Awards: Numero 3 "Ass Hats At Work"... I'm not eligible to win any awards since I'm a moderator, BUT if I were I think this little ditty would win the boobie-prize. HAHAHAHAHA, get it!?

Ok, read on and you'll get that horrible pun:

My boss called me and another girl about my age into his office last week. He's a very very old crotchety man with horrific social skills and zero consideration for others. He is constantly offending employees and even customers with his blunt, brash manner.

He starts off saying that we both do a good job with the customers, we do well at our work, and yadda yadda. Then...

boss: "I'm just gonna come right out and say this, because you know that I am an upfront kind of guy. I like to be straightforward with people."

other office girl and me nod, completely unaware.

boss: "Now, it's no secret that you young ladies are well-endowed on top..."

me, look of horror: "Uhm."

boss, continuing: "... and sometimes you gals wear tops that are too revealing given your... circumstances."

me: internal organs shutting down.

Just so you know, I do know the difference between "tasteful cleavage" and "raging slut cleavage". The latter is reserved for my boyfriend, and is not on display at work.

Unprofessional boobage:Professional boobage:(P.S. All these tops are from Torrid.com, my favorite store ON EARTH. I don't own any of these tops specifically, but if you wanna buy them for me, please feel free.)

boss: "We have customers come in sometimes and of course there are all the guys who work here too, so we don't want anything like that... distracting them. I'm sure that it does, and if I weren't such an old man, I would be distracted too."

me: vomiting inwardly.

boss, in a mildly scolding tone: "Now, you girls just need to be more careful about covering yourselves up and not showing any cleavage, because we wouldn't want to have another incident like we've had in the past, now would we?"

(this incident he's refering to was from a year or two ago when one of his male warehouse workers solicited one of the female office workers for sex (not me, thank god)... and perhaps solicited is too nice of a word. He basically said to her, "How about me and you f-ck after work today?")

other girl: glancing in my direction with a very frightened look.

me: "Okay." holy frack. anything to leave. anything to leave. anything to leave.

boss: "Alright, thank you girls. That's all, you can go."

Okay. So, let's go down the list of things that qualify my boss for an Ass Hat Award:

1. How dare he make us, two plus-sized young women, feel uncomfortable about our bodies? How dare he make any woman feel self-conscious like that? For those of you who know me, or have read my lingerie horror story at Gordman's, or have seen my online photo gallery, you know I'm a plus-sized girl. How much of a plus, it doesn't even matter.

(If you don't know what I look like, you can email me directly at jenomaha (a) gmail (dot) com and I'll decide on a case by case basis who I want to see my personal photo gallery. I spend a lot of time on SomethingAwful and Fark, I know how people's photos end up all over the internet.)

People, this is the part that makes me most angry. Both myself and the new office girl are bigger girls. She's a bit bigger than me, too. And yes, we're heavy on top.

As any plus-size girl will tell you, it's hard to find cute clothes that you can feel comfy in and still look good. (I know you skinny-bitch-asses are saying "wahh wah wah, why don't you lose some weight then, Tubby McFatterson?" to which I would say GET OFF MY BLOG.)


Comfy plus-sized clothes make us look like sacks of potatoes.

Don't get me wrong, I love being a sack of potatoes at home or with friends. But during work when I'll be meeting customers, or anywhere else in public, I want to look dressy, cool and confident.


Cute, trendy plus-sized clothes are often made in ENTIRELY the wrong way, either in material or shape, and make us look like one or more of the following:

1. the Stay Puft marshmallow man
2. like we are trying to show off our chub and/or be slutty fat chicks
3. the Michelin Man
4. like we don't fracking look in any mirrors when we dress ourselves in the morning.

Since this talk with him, I've felt nothing but awkward in everything I wear to work.

• Is this too revealing?
• Is this too much cleavage?
• If I lean over, will I show more cleavage?
• Will he say something to me again if I don't change my wardrobe to his liking?

2. There was absolutely no reason why he would be the one to talk to us about this. We have a female Office Manager who could have easily been the one to talk to us about this. It would have been far less uncomfortable and awkward for us. What the frack was he thinking trying to tell us himself? He KNOWS his social skills and overall sensitivity is non-existent.

3. As a plus-sized girl who is already terribly self-conscious about her looks, I'd have to say that every single one of my tops accentuates my best asset: my chest.

It's my favorite part of my body, and the only part that I'm not shy or self-conscious about. So, my entire wardrobe is filled with (tasteful, mind you) v-neck tops, semi low-cut tops, and some less-than-tasteful low-cut tops (these majorly low-cut tops never go to work though).

So, tell me, Mr. Boss Ass Hat... How am I going to afford to replace my entire workplace wardrobe on the barely-over-minimum-wage pay I get from your cheap ass?

4. I'm being asked to "cover up" because the pigs he hires to work in the warehouse might sexually harass me!? Excuse me, Mr. Boss Ass Hat, did you really just imply that it would be my fault if that were to happen?

Are you really saying that if we cover up our cleavage, that the asshat workers you've hired won't be total and complete pigs to us!?

WOW. I will be amazed if that works. Truly, I will. I guess I was asking to be sexually harassed all along by wearing such "distracting" clothing.

Maybe I should start wearing a Muslim-inspired shawl around my neck and head, and a dress down to my ankles too? Yes, I should start covering every inch of my body.

Because apparently men can't control themselves when they see skin. And oh, I really shouldn't wear any sandals either, because then I'd be tempting all the foot fetishists out there too!

Tell me, please, that I don't work with the biggest ass hat on earth.

And if that wasn't bad enough...

Here's what just happened ten minutes ago while I was at lunch... I'm eating my bowl of Thai Kitchen mushroom soup with yummy rice noodles and mushroom pieces (a healthy, quick and easy vegetarian lunch!)

And the Boss walks past me and says, "Is that non-fattening, Jennifer?" all accusingly, as if to say "you're fat enough. stop eating."

1. I'm on my 1/2 hour lunch... this is my ONLY time away from YOU. I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from talking to me at this time.
2. How is it any of your goddamn business what I'm eating for lunch?
3. How is my weight any of your concern? You don't even provide any health insurance, so what the hell would you care if I ate myself to death?
4. If by some chance you didn't mean this the way it sounded then WHY DO YOU TALK?
   

Two minutes later... while I'm STILL on lunch, a customer walks in and - surprise surprise! - no one else even fracking acknowledges the customer EXCEPT ME, even though I'm STILL on my lunch.

So I walk over there and start helping him and then, and only then, does My Ass Hat Boss come over and say "Can I help you, sir?" (Totally cutting me off, by the way. I hate that.)

And the guy says, sounding annoyed at the interruption , "She's helping me, thanks." (I love him for saying that. Mr. Customer Man, thank you for looking annoyed with my boss for interrupting me and for saying I was helpful and for recognizing my boss for the ass hat that he is.)

And then the boss laughs and says, "Yeah, but she doesn't know anything."

Oh, you're right. I've only worked here for 3 1/2 years... how could I have possibly retained any information on our products in such a short time? And why is that again? Can someone please tell me why I've wasted 3.5 years of my life at this place?

Geek alert!

Excuse me while I geek-out about software:

Uh, wow. I cannot even believe that Adobe Photoshop CS came out in 2003. Wtf. 4 years ago!?

I knew when Photoshop CS2 came out, because I tried it and then couldn't afford to upgrade to it. And I know that there is a beta version of Photoshop CS3 available now, which I will also try and not be able to afford. But I glanced at the copyright this afternoon when I launched Photoshop and it was like a sticker shock to see "2003" there.

I guess I just can't even believe I've been doing graphics for 4 years now. Time really does go by without you realizing it. I feel a bit old. I mean, not really. But I sorta feel almost like a grown-up. Almost.

I also can't believe I've been using Photoshop for 4 years and I'm still learning new shit about it on a regular basis. When I graduated from college I thought they'd taught me every trick there is in Photoshop and Illustrator that would get me by in the Real Working Adult World. But uh, NO. I learned most of the tricks I use today on my own and through trial and error.

I wonder if someone could find me (because I'm too busy to do it myself) a list of the specifications on CS versus CS2 and versus CS3. I vaguely looked around Adobe.com for such a chart or list, but frankly didn't look that hard for it. Because I'd like to contrast and compare what I use now and what I would be upgrading to if I purchased CS3... but without reading a 400 page users manual or sifting through 100 pages of forums.

* grumble * Back to work.

Happy birthday to you.

It's March 20th, people. Guess who was born today, 26 years ago?
(It's not me, mine's in December. Hint: It's someone I make out with.)

Happy birthday, Corey. I love you.

Ass hat in the news

If you're not a member of what the blog!? yet, you should be. Because then you can participate in the ass hat awards, which features a sweet little contest every 2 weeks. There are lots of buttons and awards and junk that you can earn if you post cool crap about ass hats. Oh yeah, and did I mention that what the blog!? and the ass hat awards are run entirely by the lovely and talent Tiffany, Michelle, and yours truly?

Yeah, we're awesome. You don't have to say it, just sign your ass up.

Anyway, even though I cant qualify to win an ass hat award, I still love to participate because, guess why? It's tons of fun, people. Try and keep up, okay? If you tried it, you would know this.

This past 2-weeks the theme has been Ass Hats in the News, so here's my post:

This is a bit of a disturbing ass hat, but an ass hat nonetheless. Here's the story if you want to read it, though all you really need to know are the parts I highlighted for you in red:

ERIE, Pennsylvania (AP) -- A woman pleaded guilty Tuesday to swinging her 4-week-old son like a bat to hit her boyfriend during a fight, fracturing the infant's skull in the process.

Chytoria Graham, 27, pleaded guilty to aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a child under a plea agreement with prosecutors.

By pleading guilty, Graham acknowledged that on October 8 she grabbed her son Jarron by his feet and swung him, hitting her boyfriend and seriously injuring the child.

At Graham's preliminary hearing in December, paramedic Betty Schau, who treated the baby, recalled that Graham was crying and disheveled when medical crews arrived. She testified that Graham told her, "I swung him. I swung him like a bat."

The judge ordered a psychological examination for Graham before her sentencing, set for May 8. The charges carry a minimum of five years in prison because the child was under age 12. Two lesser charges were dropped.

Graham's previous attorney had said Graham did not use her child as a weapon, that the boy was hurt during a fight between the two adults and that Graham lied to authorities about how the injury occurred to protect her boyfriend.

Her current attorney, public defender Julia Dudics, however, said Tuesday that the choice to plead guilty was Graham's. Dudics declined further comment except to say that Graham had told her she was depressed.

Jarron, who made a full recovery, and Graham's four other children are currently in the custody of her parents.

Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.

Here's the link too, if you wanna go read it at cnn.com. But really, if you can just read it here, why go anywhere else?

So, uhm. Do I really need to say anything else about this? I mean, holy hell. WTF is wrong with people?

I see no mention of this mother being on drugs, but I really think that would make more sense... I mean, if you're totally drugged out of your skull I could maybe possibly see this happening.

Like, I could understand a bit if you're a complete crackhead and you hallucinate that your baby is really a baseball bat and start swinging away at the purple spidermonkeys flying towards your head. I could understand that excuse.

But, apparently this lady was sober!? Really? WTF? And her primary excuse is that she was depressed. Why is it that we always hear about mothers getting depressed and then either drowning their children, driving them off bridges, or using them as sports equipment?

Man, this must be an epidemic! I know whenever I'm feeling depressed, I also feel the urge to end innocent lives. Thank goodness I'm not alone anymore in Crazy Town!

/sarcasm.

Maybe birth control should be issued free-of-charge to anyone with an IQ below that of current U.S. President's. (I realize that at the moment that is not a lot of people. But hopefully this will encourage us to vote in smarter Presidents next time.) Two birds with one stone, people. That's how you do it.

Anyway, I'm glad the kid is okay. (And frankly I wouldn't be posting this story if he wasn't okay, because I'm NOT trying to make everyone cry.) I do want to say is that this lady is a freakin ass hat and she doesn't deserve to have children if she can't even operate them properly.

Obviously, this kid was not made for sports. I mean, seriously. Lady, if you really wanna go psycho on your man you have to buy yourself a real baseball bat.

It would do a lot more damage to him than your kid's squishy little head.

The definition of psycho.

I don't really consider myself as a stalkable type of girl, but I guess for every and any girl there are at least 12 scary guys who could possibly stalk you.

I went out with this guy JUST ONCE, a little over a year ago. After the one date we went on, I knew I wasn't into him. I'm not the kind of girl to stay with a guy "just because". I have to really like him. And I just wasn't into this guy. To tell you the truth, I thought he was a bit too intense and had way too much emotional baggage. I understand falling for the guy who needs fixing, but I'm not interested in that... I've been there and done that, and I realize it sucks major ass. I could trash-talk him more, because there was a lot to say, but I don't think that's fair.

So anyway, I told him that I wasn't interested in him "like that". I told him that I also don't stay friends with guys that I've been out with, because I don't want to risk unrequited-feelings on either side. Plus, I wasn't looking for friends. I have friends and they are WAY too much AWESOME to handle already. So I don't really need anymore. If I happen to get more, that's cool, but I wasn't going to force a friendship or have small-talk with yet another aquaintance. Sounds bitchy? Yeah, well I try and be nice about it, but it's the truth.

I told him this before we even went out on the date. I reminded him of all this the day after our date too. Then, probably a day or two after our date, I had a very serious family emergency, where I thought my dad was not going to make it. By pure coincidence, he called me right after my dad was taken to the hospital by ambulance (even though I'd just spoken to him the day before, but whatever).

I told him I couldn't talk to him, that there was an emergency with my dad, and I had to go. But he kept talking. Actually, whining. It was closer to begging. I mean, he literally ignored the fact that I was very upset and started asking me why I didn't want to be with him.

I was beyond disgusted and pissed.

It's usually difficult to make me mad, but if you somehow manage to do it, you'll see me blow up and say exactly what I'm thinking at the time. Anyway, I was at my breaking point already and hearing him go on and on, interrupting and talking over me, completely disregarding my feelings and my family emergency... well, it totally set me off. I told him I didn't EVER want to talk to him again and I didn't want to be friends and to NEVER call me again. And CLICK, I said goodbye and hung up.

He called back several times that evening, and I eventually turned my cell phone off for the night to get some sleep, because one of the calls came in at 2AM from some high-pitched whiny chick friend of his who was asking me why I was "mad" at him. Like we were in f-cking 6th grade or something! I hung up on her after telling her to never call me again either. He called me back a half-hour later and I answered again because I was half-asleep once more. I told him AGAIN to never call me. He called the next day a few more times. I didn't answer.

He called me every single day for a month following, and sometimes he would call multiple times a day. Most days he would just hang up after my voicemail picked up, but sometimes he would leave usually very drunken messages begging/whining on my voicemail. At times he would call from unknown numbers and I would answer the phone. Everytime I would hang up on him or tell him to PLEASE STOP CALLING. After a while I started loathing hearing my phone ring. It would make me cringe. I kept telling myself, "Why should I have to change my phone number? He's the psycho, why should I have to pay for that" and I never changed my number.

Finally, after a month of being scared whenever my phone rang, I wrote him an email telling him for the 8th or 9th time to stop calling. This time, I also told him that he was scaring me and that I would be calling the police for a restraining order if he did not stop immediately.

The calls stopped a couple days later.

He called again in the summer of 2006, just once. I figured he was just drunk and was doing it "one last time" just to mess with me.

Now, this last Thursday evening, he called me about 10-12 times in a row, and left 5 very drunk voicemails on my phone. I keep saying to myself "This is the last time, then I'm changing my number." But when is it really the last time?

This time, I hope.