Diary of an Aggitated Mother...

Wednesday may actually be one of my favorite days.  It is my day off.  Who doesn't love those??

Get to sleep in.

Spend a little one on one time with my baby girl Hannah (since my oldest is spending the week with her dad in Florida).

And just relax in general.

No where in my planning did I expect to have to be subjected to 45 minutes of what I can only call "slurp torture".

Hormonal surge and reflux...Lord, why do you hate me??

I have been surfing the wave of hormonal tween for the past 4 maybe 5 months.  I don't remember it starting this early with Olivia but then again Hannah seemed to do everything faster than Olivia did for the pure and simple fact that when you have two children the younger one tends to want to do EVERYTHING that the older one is doing and not wait until the same age bracket to do it in.

Case in point.  Hannah started walking at the lovely age of 9 1/2 months.  Olivia was closer to 14 months.  Hannah potty trained over a few months and was peeing like a champ on the potty by age 2.  Olivia held out for reinforcements (ie: my mother who had to travel from Florida to Ohio) in order to coax that tushy out of a pull-up and into Big Girl panties. This was accomplished after she was 2 yrs old.  Olivia breastfed until 18 months, Hannah dropped that and the bottle by 9 months and demanded a sippy cup. 

So while Jon and I steeled ourselves for the fact that "it" meaning puberty was coming, we had NOT in any way shape or form prepared ourselves for the fact that striking double digits on the birthday cake would bring about a tidal surge of dramatic outburst, raging mood swings and the onset of what appears to be a reflux disorder. 

Seriously....who buys this??

Because I am ALL about providing hard hitting informative blogs...stop laughing...I am bringing this latest sampling of my take on what's being sold in the wee hours of the night. 

You looking to get rid of that turkey neck?

Wanna pump up your booty??

Thinking of new ways to sculpt and tone your upper arms and make sure that they aren't waving good-bye when you are trying to say "hello gorgeous"???

Well fear no more my wonderful friends.  There are a gaggle of jacklegs just praying that you are asking these questions and many more about your appearance.  And they have spent gads of time and money cooking up a slew of items praying on your susceptibility to idiotic products that are thrown on your television at 3 o'clock in the morning.

Sometimes it's the promise of "quick results", other times it's the lure of that $19.99 price tag but more so I believe it is the exhaustion of your capacity to process realistic thoughts.  Yep, in the span of just 45 minutes during another one of my sleepless nights I saw not one, not two, but three asinine infomercials for products such as the Neck Slimmer, the Brazilian Butt Lift workout system and the Shake Weight.

After each one I had to think...what's the draw?  Sadly, my thought process should have been "what's the catch" but seriously...I'm exhausted and the fact that I am actually able to string together two lucid thoughts is beyond triumphant for me.  So I decided to do a little research...yep, that's me...bored to death caring about you guys, my readers.

Well with the butt sculpter, if you call within the next 5 minutes you will get a....wait for it...make sure you're seated...a pencil.  Yep.  A whole pencil. 

Really?  REALLY a whole pencil??  Holy shit...let me drop what I am doing right this minute and make sure I get in on that little piece of gravity defying technology. 

These people probably held a meeting to put together this deal and most likely went through a checklist of what would be in their "package". 

Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1:  Umm, okay...so we've got the 3 DVD's, the fat burning food plan, the booty resistance band and a tape measure.  It just feels like it's missing something don't you think?

Brazilian Butt Jackleg #2:  Gosh #1...I don't know.  All that seems like a great deal for the $59.85 price point we are shooting for.  How could we POSSIBLY make it better??

Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1:  I just feel like it needs something else (fidgets with the pencil in his hand and then makes a face as though he's had his very own Oprah "ah ha" moment)  Do you think we should throw in a pencil? 

Brazilian Butt Jackleg #2:  Wow...that is such a good question.  But what would they use it for and would we need to increase the price?

Brazilian Butt Jackleg #1:  They'd use the pencil to shove in the fat crease that is on their flabby asses to see if they have accomplished the toned butt that we have photo shopped onto the pamphlet as the "AFTER" result image.   And we won't raise the price...this pencil will be an added bonus!

---Boardroom errupts in cheers as if they have cured cancer---

Oh, and FYI it isn't even sharpened.  Probably did that for legal purposes because if you are stupid enough to purchase this product then I'd be willing to bet that you'd be stupid enough to shove a sharpened pencil near your ass!

Also, I went a step further and contacted the customer service number (because I honestly have nothing better to do at this hour) and asked if I could have a discount on my purchase because I already have my own pencil.  The customer service rep seemed flabbergasted that I would even suggest such an absurd thing.  Yeah, right...like I am the moron in this situation. 

This person is trying to tell me that their pencil is made specifically for the purpose of checking your progress.  Uh huh...so you mean to tell me that there is a corporation...somewhere...that is making pencils for the sole purpose of checking if you have a flabby ass?  Dear God, please let Chris Hanson from Dateline do an expose on this!

I finally gave up on the pencil fight and hung up on the slightly hyperventilating customer service rep whose name was Tawny and who I imagine was a stripper at one time but who injured herself with a sharpened pencil and now has to do this thankless job.

Next on my list of ridiculous items is the Neck Slimmer.  Granted you don't get a pencil with this little gem but at $19.99 it seems like a steal compared to the butt deal.  The first observation on this product other than the overwhelming urge to scream out "are you FUCKING kidding me" is that you get the added bonus of looking like you're giving a BJ with no partner on the receiving end.  Hell you could save yourself the money and do the real act and not only please your partner but also probably hopefully get the same result of a toned neck.  Plus my way offers the possibility of a full on sexual romp therfore allowing you to burn calories, killing two workouts with one effort.

You're Welcome Men of America!

Last on my list of items is the Shake Weight.  Another reasonably priced piece of ridiculousness at $19.95.  My immediate reaction to this commercial was how sexual it seems.  Maybe it's my lack of intimate moments as of late but it just looked like one huge phallic free for all!  It cemented in my mind why men should NOT be allowed to create any type of workout equipment to tone or improve the female physique, especially if it's gonna come out looking like a prop for a porno.


I don't know for sure that these items were created by a male or team of them but I have a pretty strong sneaking suspicion that there is at least one pair of nuts behind each of those items.

Well to each their own.  While I may not get the drawl that these products hold I don't have time to think about it right now because I've gotta go use my Thigh Master and wait for my Perfect Brownie's to finish baking. 

~JP

Here's a little story about a fancy party dress....

Never underestimate the changing fads of teenagers.  Just when you think you may have mastered what it is that they like or possibly, foolishly, think you may have stumbled upon something that they may...do I dare say it...love...you will undoubtedly be making the drive of shame back to the store...broken hearted dress in hand from whence you purchased it.

See when you saw it there hanging ever so lovely upon it's silver rack you pictured your daughters adoring face staring back at you proclaiming how you "are the best mother ever" and "how did you know that this is the EXACT  color and type of dress that I was wishing dreaming for".  This is the trickery of motherhood.

So now just a few weeks past homecoming I accompanied my friends for that dreaded drive of shame.  Of course we had to pull back the bag and admire the dress once more.  First glances were for admiration.  Second glances were to make sure the tag was still affixed and that there had been no harm to the garment that while we loved still needed to be in pristeen condition in order to return. 

The bitchy blessed teen swore that it wasn't worn other than to be tried on.  We had born witness that the dress that was purchased by the mom was not the chosen one and was not worn to the dance, but still how can we predict what kind of diva dancin around with a brush in hand may or may not have taken place on late nights in her room as the dress SHOULD have been hanging in it's protective plastic bag cocoon.  We did the once over, head to toe checks for any damage and came up with the all clear sign.

We made the drive across the lake talking all the while about how it was so pretty and how wonderful it would have been.  Once we arrived the mom that had originally purchased it was terrified to go in and return it given the time that had gone by.  I didn't understand her hesitation and nor did my other friend, but being the team players that we are we took her card, the dress and the receipt in for the return.

As we made our way to the formal department we began to feel a little uneasy as if we would be sent to the department store jail for trying to return a dress.  Before we could really think too much about it we were front and center at the dress counter.  The sales girl was polite and asked if we had the receipt.  We handed it over.  She pulled the dress out of the bag and began to locate both the tags that needed to be affixed in order to return a garment.

It was at that precise moment that my eyes fell upon a small stain that I hadn't noticed when we were back at the house.  I didn't dare look to the left of me at my other friend who was doing the bulk of the talking.  Another sales person walked up and bent down to grab something from underneath the counter.  Out of the very corner of my eye I could see that my girlfriend was getting a little antsy.  I was still VERY unwilling to look over at her. 

As I began to get jittery the transaction was done and we were on our way.  As we made our way to the exit of the  store I could barely contain myself and said, "oh my God did you see that stain"?

Her eyes got as big as quarters and said, "the stain....my God did you see the rip"?

We double stepped it out of the store in hopes of not being dragged back in and thrown in the mall jail.  Just another Wednesday in the land of parents with teenage daughters.  It's glamorous and oh so exciting!

~JP

Not by the hair on my double chiney chin chin...

Okay...now mother nature is just being fucking cruel.  Is it not enough that I am dealing with the ever present possible demise of my marriage?  But now I have to be reminded of my ever present age.  That is just TOO DAMN CRUEL!  So, I tried to go to sleep but of course insomnia was just too much of a bitch to let that one slip by her.  I laid there for a good hour before I finally gave up and retreated to the couch to take in "Dancing With the Stars" via DVR.  I stepped into the bathroom to piddle one more time before retreating to the couch because alas two kids and multiple surgeries in my Southern nether regions has put a tax on my bladder and THEN....there is where it became ever present that my double chin was NOT alone.

At first I thought "damn, not another zit" seriously I'm in my 30's people when will puberty end?  Must I really give into the ads for the Pro-Active face wash that Jessica Simpson is pushing at 2 o'clock in the morning.  But upon further inspection I found the actual culprit for the raised bump on my chin was the EVIL chin hair.  Must we really be dealing with this RIGHT NOW!?!  Really RIGHT NOW?!?  My marriage is hanging by a thin, thin....did I mention THIN thread.  Yep...I put it out there and still the chin hair is there.  Right there.  Front and center.  Life is so frickin cruel like that. 

Thank you Mother Nature for reminding me that while I think I have found the true reason to focus my attention on you have found your own cruel way to focus my attention on very superficial yet yucky things.  GREAT...just when I had scoffed at waxing...now I've got to go work on my chin region.  Damn you Mother Nature....DAMN YOU TO HELL!!!!

~JP

What's your gut telling you?

So life being the proverbial roller coaster that it is...has now found me back at the bottom.  I've been here before.  Lots of times.  It's familiar territory.  The other part that is familiar is the beating my stomach takes when things are going NOT so well.  I'm an internalizer.  I smile on the outside.  Making jokes, writing funny blogs and generally trying to be light hearted when in truth my stomach is an acid volcano of stress and upset emotions.  It's a downright miracle that the ulcer that was discovered a few years ago has not grown large enough to suck the rest of my body into it's vast hole.  Although at times I wonder if my doctor just lied in order to keep feeding me medications because he gets a kick back from the drug companies.  It's all a conspiracy when it comes to the health care industry. 

But back to me...and my gut.  On top of being a rumbly, achy, keeping me in the bathroom more than any one normal human being should be in there...it has also begun to expand.  It seems my gut doesn't want my butt to feel lonely.  Isn't that nice of it?  Umm.  Yeah.  NOT. 

Tonight as Jon coaxed me out of my pity filled mock hibernation to attend a local fast food joints participation at helping our youngest daughter school raise money for the PTA, I was hit with just how out of control it's growth has become.  A cute Halloween t-shirt that has seen me through the past 3 years of trick-o-treating now bears a striking resemblence to me attempting to suck my gut into a childs shirt.  As if the realization that "Job, Take #2" is as failed as it was the first time around (details to follow once the investigation is complete...yes...it does sound as bad as that word "investigation" would lead you to believe) wasn't enough to stress me out, now I've got to worry about my mid section trying to take over the whole of my body.  What next CANKLES?  Dear Lord....why must you hate me so?

Ok...maybe it's not God.  Maybe it's the fact that running my fingers longingly over the swipe card for my gym membership hasn't made me lose even an ounce of weight.  Maybe, just maybe I should run my ass up to the gym and then I wouldn't be worrying about my gut so much.  It sure would make for a lovely distraction from all the other shit that is going on in the world that is me.

But since I am one to procrastinate beyond any amount of reason...I think I will just ponder on this realization while I wallow in the stress of my current situation.  And with that....my gut wins!  For now.

~JP

Penny's Thought of the Day....

They have books for that you know?

When my kids were little...after the tiresome 3's (for some reason we didn't get terrible 2's...I'm thinking years 5 to present have MORE than made up for this) we would read them books that my MIL or my mother (one of the garage queen maven's) had gotten for them that went over manners and the basics of common courtesy.  There was one on biting, which I really wish I had gotten round about the breast feeding time.  Not because I'm looney enough to think that it would have worked to coax them from chomping on my nipples, but because I would have used it as a shield.  Think guillotine...but the baby would maintain her head and I would maintain my nipple.  Win, win situation.

Others were on choosing your words, sharing, hitting, kindness...etc.

After watching the MTV VMA's tonight it is clear that Kanye West is in need of those books.  The way that this 32 year old man behaved towards a 19 year old Taylor Swift was downright...well...it was fucking rude!

I sat watching with Hannah and the reaction was one of utter disgust.  Out of the mouths of babes....

Hannah:  Oh.  Oh.  Oh my god...mom, mom...MOM do you really think Taylor will win??

Me: I...

Hannah:  (unwilling to let me finish thought...have no idea where she gets this from) Mom...oh ma gawd...they are about to announce the winner!  Oh, oh ma gawd!  Do you think she will mom?  Do you??

Me:  I re.....

TV ~ Taylor Lautner announces:  "And the moon man for Best Female video goes to.....Taylor Swift."

Applause...applause...applause...Taylor Swift looking surprised in WAY too red lipstick but still beautiful.....

Hannah:  Oh, ma gawd...."why can't you see...you belong to meeeee"(daughter singing and bopping around my bed)....

....Taylor Swift begins voice breaking speech....

Hannah:  Oh ma gawd mom, mom I love this....huh...what?? 

Me:  What the hell?? (secretly proud I didn't say fuck)

...Kanye jumps on stage mumbling some shit about Beyonce and how "Single Ladies" was the best video of all time...

Hannah:  What is his problem?  Why is he being so mean?  Mom, mom...MOM it's not his turn...tell him it's NOT HIS TURN??  Is he making her cry??

Me:  (trying to calm a very pissed 9yr old) Maybe it's just a skit...maybe she is gonna rip off her dress and reveal some little frock and her and Kanye are gonna break it down country/rap style!

I am not really believing the shit that I am trying to sell.  Unfortunately, I had a daquiri earlier and this put me completely off mom guard and I really didn't think that I was gonna have to dig deep for life leasons so I had to act quickly to explain away the douchebaggery that was taking place on my television.  I watched as my very caring and passionate child turn into someone who looks as though she is ready to commandeer my Honda, book it to NY and kick some Kanye ass!

Hannah:  Mom that doesn't look like part of the show.  Mom they wouldn't let her cry if it was part of the show...would they?

Me:  (now I am not only pissed at Kanye...I have to add MTV to my shit list because they are allowing my thin skinned baby to be hurt...if anyone is gonna fuck up this kid it's gonna be me...I call dibs damnit) No hun...I don't think it is part of the show.  I think he is just a moron.

Hannah:  Well he needs to say sorry.  You would make me say sorry.

Me:  You're right Han...if your sister was uber successful and making me a butt load of money and you got up on stage and pissed on her speech I would make you apologize.

Hannah:  Yeah.  You would.  I wouldn't mean it...but you would make me say sorry.

I decided that it was best to send her to bed after that for fear of what else may come along.  I gave her cookies first to soften the lunatic blow that Kanye dealt.  After brushed teeth she padded off to bed.


It wasn't until later that we saw that Beyonce stepped up to the classiness plate and gave her moment on the award stage to Taylor Swift to finish her earlier, rudely interrupted, acceptance speech.  I'm beginning to think that before Momma Knowles taught her girls to flaunt their Destiny Child goodies and began creating that House of Dereon clothing line which would surely require one to have thick skin, she was a purveyor of the very books we read to our own girls. 

It gives me hope that some day...years from now...my kids will be famous well adjusted.  They will have gained millions in cold hard cash life lessons from books, people and situations.  I take comfort that for tonight...in this moment at least one of them has deciphered right from wrong. 

Yes, it took a television show.  Yes, it was about a musician.

But you take your victories where you can get them.  And this is one to go down in the victory column.

Of course tomorrow it will all be washed away as one kicks on the door to the bathroom as the other stands behind it screaming, "well...YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU USED MY STUFF".  When I attempt to ask what the argument is about I get a unanimous, "NOTHING" or "NEVERMIND".  Then the door opens, the sound of a slap echoes down the hallway and it ends with a slammed door.

Time to bust out the damn books again.  I think instead of making them read them over again I am just gonna slap them upside the head and hope that the lessons get in there by osmosis...kind of like that bump ap for iPhones.  We'll call this the "life ap".

If anyone knows how I can get to Kanye I'd be more than willing to put him on my "life ap list".  Think of it like aversion therapy for jacklegs.

You're welcome.


Also...I am willing to add Congressman Joe Wilson (R-SC) to my list.  I think he could use some "life ap" time as well!  It's not nice to call people...especially the President of the US...a liar!  

Just one more way I'm trying to make the world better.  Eliminating negativity...one douchebag at a time!
~JP

The Laundry Standoff...

The standoff between me and the clean laundry that I am told needs to be folded and not just chucked into each determined owners room has now reached day 3.  I'm pretty sure the clothes are winning as it seems they have a quality of kriptonite to Superman effect on me. 

Every time I attempt to go near them I am overwhelmed with frustration and the strange urge to drink my weight in alcohol. 

I've contemplated burning everything and starting over, but Jon has brought up the very obvious financial liability that this possesses.  God, I really hate when he is all logical.

I'm wondering what ever gave me the idea that being at home and not at a full time job was such a brilliant idea for how I should spend my time.  Then I am reminded of the debilitating illness that brought me to this place.  And for once I'm not talking about the depression.

I can hear the laundry taunting me from the couch and I am forced to remind it that A) I am NOT on facebook and B) I am more than capable of folding it all but I am choosing not to.

This internal exchange is room for pause and makes me think that being cooped up all day with inanimate objects may not be the best thing for someone of my mental capacity.  This realization makes me tired and therefore I announce that I am going back to bed.

There is an audible groan from the laundry piles, which I realize is actually Penny rustling about underneath the stacks of shorts, t-shirts, towels and socks.  Just when I worry that I will have to launch a search and rescue team for her safe return from the depths of clothes mountain she wriggles free albeit inside the pant leg of one of Jon's pairs of boxers and looks longingly at me.

I am pretty sure she is telling me to fold the laundry so she and the other dogs can reclaim the couch as a jungle gym. Or maybe she is asking me to rescue her from the boxers.

Great....now I am being mentally scolded by piles of clothes and 3 dogs.  My day is going down hill fast.

~JP

My husband the racist....who knew??

The big scandal in our household this week is the fact that my husband has been accused of being a racist. 

Really? 

Huh.  Didn't see that coming.

Apparently because he turned down buying candy being sold by a clients son because he didn't have cash on him at the time and the child then got rude it was spun that the reason Jon didn't buy anything was because the child was black. 

Ummm....seriously?  My husband would buy chocolate covered anything from anyone if he's got the coin.  Skin color doesn't matter when there is candy involved.  Skin color doesn't matter at all for this family but truly nothing will come between us and our snack foods. 

I'm pretty sure if Hitler himself showed up with some chocolate bars for his school fundraiser and my husband had cash on him...he would seriously buy the candy.  I mean, we may feel guilty later for supporting him, but seriously...that fucking candy rocks!

He was really hurt by the accusation.  I tried to be supportive, but I was more concerned over the fact that there was an opportunity for some Worlds Famous chocolate bars and I missed out.  Seriously, I totally would have made a run to the ATM and stopped by the dealership to make the cash for candy exchange.


We totally support chocolate.  Hell we live minutes away from the Chocolate City and it's jackleg of a mayor, Ray Nagin.  Let us stop the madness of throwing around baseless accusations and instead focus on the real issues at hand...like how the hell do I track down someone selling that damn candy?  Focus people...focus.  Matters of critical chocolate consumption are at hand...your cooperation will be GREATLY appreciated.

~JP

Well I guess I can cross manager of future strippers off my list of things to do in life...

I really am trying to be positive and upbeat about the whole looking for a job thing.

Probably one of the only things that I am attempting to be upbeat about.

It's hard people. It's really fucking hard.

I'm getting REALLY tired of revising my resume.

I've dumbed it down about as much as I can, which (scratching my head in complete exsasperation) apparently has helped tremendously because instead of never hearing from the perspective employers that I send them out to I've actually gotten some responses.

Applause, applause, applause...yeah NOT SO MUCH!

The first response I got was from a pediatric practice.  The kiss off came as a result of me "expecting too much money."

Ummm, I don't think so jackasses. If you've been running your add for close to a month and just now had to run a new ad putting a specific salary cap on the job your trying to have filled then maybe it is YOU that has the problem.

Quality cost money people.

Also...just a little FYI...maybe if you had someone actually, oh, I don't know...interview the perspective new hire instead of using an oogy "head shot" and relying on job application that asks what your applicable hobbies are in regard to said position...then you deserve the under $9.00 hour crowd that are gonna come-a-flocking.

Jacklegs.

Next up was a voice mail. Yes, you read that right..a voicemail.

It get's better. It wasn't even a human speaking. It was an automated and not even friendly sounding computeresque woman the glibly advised me that "while we appreciate your interest in our firm after careful consideration we realize that you are over qualified for the position requested."

Wow...that one came out of left field. I've never been advised by something that closely resembles what I dream to be the wife of Mr. Moviephone that I am to over qualified for a job.

It then went on to ask me if I would like "the firm to keep my resume on file for future openings". I thought it was an okay idea..even if I didn't agree with their approach at notifying applicants I was at least grateful that I had gotten a phone call so I could cross this one off my list.

The automated voice told me to "select option #2 to save resume". I pressed the selection and it told me rather rudely, "option failed". I tried a few more (like 4) times and finally gave up after it seemed that the statement of "option failed" began to sound more and more hostile with each attempt.

It made me wonder how do they handle the ones that aren't qualified? Do they just send them back their resume's with the word FAIL written across it in red Sharpie??

Major jacklegs.

I tried really hard not to take either of those too personally and really just laughed it off. I was drunk with confidence over the fact that I had what I privately deemed to be the perfect position in mind.

It was as an Office Manager for a local dance studio. It would marry my loves of bossiness, creating memo's and dance!

Hi I'm Jessica. And you must be perfection.

This place had four things that I REALLY wanted which were:

A) the job is located less than a minute from home - I wouldn't even have to travel on any major roads to get to it

B) it was part time - it would allow me to enroll in school come the new year and not have to worry about shuffling a school and work schedule

C) it had the same holiday schedule as my kids school...no worries for childcare come summer when Liv went to spend the summer with her dad inevitably leaving Jon and I to scramble for childcare for Han.

D) it started after the kids left for school in the morning and finished before they got out each day - plus it was only 4 days a week just like my lovely dental practice job

Honestly when I sent out my resume via email as it instructed I could almost see God winking in complete approval. Ok...actually it was Penny but I'm sure somewhere...up there...the big guy was like "you go girl"!

My children had taken lessons from this place previously so I was familiar with the owner. They enjoyed the instructors and the classes but after two years we decided to leave and go somewhere else due to the failure in the management aspect.

Well there was that and the fact that with each year they attended the recital costumes tended to get skimpier and skimpier. Let me just say that when my husband went to pick up Han's tap costume for "Whistle While You Work" from Snow White he nearly had a stroke. He thought the song was descriptive of the hoochie momma bikini top and let's just sew together the smallest swatches of fabric we can possibly get away with and call it a skirt ensemble.

Han was 4 at the time of that recital. We took NO pictures that year for fear that when they went to be developed we would be hauled in for kiddie porn.

The fact that I had seen the bottom of the barrel in regards to office help that the owner had in the past I figured my experience would bring a level of professionalism to the table. I felt as though I had this one in the bag.

The only draw back would be having to take a pay cut but the benefits to this position FAR outweighed the downside of the money.

It was brutally crushing to get the last and most recent kiss off. It came in the form of a "thanks but the positions been filled" email.

Email? Really?

The email was sent at 3:45 p.m. on Saturday.

ON SATURDAY!!

Who the hell decides that they don't want to hire someone and then alerts them...via email...in the middle of the day on a fucking Saturday?? Way to kill the weekend for me.

Then as if that wasn't enough the email went on to ask me if I "know of anyone that would like to apply for an instructor position please forward this email address so that they can contact our studio".

Umm..hello?? You just hired a fucking Office Manager...make them find you an instructor...don't burden the person you just turned down!

Final dagger to the heart regarding this job is that the classified ad is still in the paper for the exact position that I was passed over for.

I'm hoping that it's because she had previously paid for a certain amount of time for the ad to be run because seriously if this woman lied to me about the position being filled I may just hang myself in the shower. If I can't cut it at a dance studio that may possibly turn out the next wave of strippers to entertain the tourist down on Bourbon Street and it was deemed that I wasn't experienced enough to handle that level of greatness...well, there just aren't words to describe the deep hole of blackness that I will sink into.

Biggest jackleg yet!

The level of professionalism that I am used to having is completely lost on today's hiring society. I mean come on people. Seriously?

Seriously??

SERIOUSLY...WTF??

Today is a new day. I've brewed a fresh pot of coffee and got back to the business of job hunting.

Looked over the resume again.

Resisted the urge to take out any words that have more than 2 syllables in the hopes that I can fool someone into thinking I'm a complete idiot and therefore a perfect candidate to be hired.

I will be hot on the trail of 15 more ad's that I pulled from the classifieds yesterday.

Given the first 3 responses that I've gotten after a month of looking I'm both scared and slightly intrigued about what else may lay ahead.

Stay tuned.

~JP