Archive by Author


27 Apr

Since I decided to quit my job it’s meant having to focus my spare time on job searching. It’s as shitty as having to jump back into the dating pool after a break up. You have to present yourself in your best light, pretend you don’t have flaws, screen out the weirdos, and be willing to have some awkward encounters in hopes that you’ll find the right match.

In dating I’ve found that personality can go a long way. You can charm just about anyone and they’ll fall for you. That would account for my success in relationships. No. Wait. I haven’t had much success in relationships…

You know what would be awesome? If the world would be willing to hire and pay the big bucks to others who are witty and charming. Job offers left and right I’d have! I can picture it: I could apply to any job and during the phone screen I’d make the hiring manager chortle. Hired on the spot!! Top of the pay grade!! Corner office! Extra vacation. Hiring on looks alone would guarantee me a job in sanitation services (eg. a janitor) or working in fast food-hidden in the back.
Where’s my dream job hiding? Probably somewhere with my Prince Charming.

For now, I’m stuck with the reality that I’ll have to continue trying to find the perfect match professionally and personally. Ugh. It’s exhausting. I’ll clearly have to drown my sorrows in sugar. And booze.

Where are my fat pants?

Her career moves are like Elaine Benes’s dance moves

26 Apr

Seinfeld. What a great show about nothing. I miss it. No more amazing Thursday lineup on NBC. Instead there’s a reality show about talentless (Kardashians) wannabes, housewives with too much money and time on their hands, talent shows, the zombie apocalypse, or a medical drama.

I miss Elaine shoving people and yelling, “get out!” And her dance moves. She made me feel better about myself and my inability to move with the music.

I was reminded of her as a train wreck during a meeting this afternoon. Picture this: me as the fancy HR exec, a recruiter, and the fancy mucky much with great hair and zero feelings who is hiring a new secretary. Getting a meeting with this guy is hard to do. He runs one of the major business areas and is one step from CEO. You’d think knowing that the recruiter would be ready to go.

The two words that best describe her performance during this meeting are “hot mess.” She was 10 minutes late, confused as to the level, totally wrong on the pay for the role, and asking him questions that he’d already answered.

He cut the meeting short under the guise of having to grab lunch before his next meeting. I his way out she said to him, “the role sounds so great I might apply to it.” He turned around and walked out without saying a word to her.

The likelihood of her ever getting that job is the same as Elaine Benes winning a dance contest. Not gonna happen.

Be like Nike and just do it

25 Apr

There are times at work when I’m tempted to walk to someone’s desk, punch him in the throat, and then walk away.

This is one of those moments.

I landed in this high fallutin executive job awhile ago. In an ideal world people are supposed to do what I tell them. In the real world they stare blankly and drool on their desks. I’m not asking for someone to build a rocket that can go to Mars or for them to develop a cure to male pattern baldness. All I need is one lousy stinking report so that it can be sent to my uppity douche of a client.

Instead I get a series of inane questions and a request for a meeting. Great. Another pointless meeting. Just what the world needs now.

Here’s the agenda I’ll propose.

  • Stop being a douche bag (owner: asshole requesting the meeting)
  • Clarity on why you’re a douche bag (owner: me, 15 minutes)
  • Do as you’re told (owner: asshole requesting the meeting)

I have to practice controlling my eyes from rolling without giving myself a massive headache. Michael Phelps trained his entire life to became an zillion time gold medal olympian, if he can do it, then I’m pretty sure I can train myself to not roll my eyes.  Wish me luck.


Dear Universe, sending you the big middle finger you have earned

22 Apr

Ah life, it’s so fun how that turns out.

Kind of like when you meet that super hot dude who you would give up both of your ovaries for, only to find out that he just got engaged the weekend before.  It’s like that.

Remember the time, yesterday, when I told you I was planning on leaving my job?  It feels like just yesterday, because it was…Yeah, so today, my boss told me that I’m getting a pay increase.  First pay period in June, exactly 1 pay period before I’m planning on giving notice.

I’m going to be just like Gwyneth Paltrow, only fatter and with less money

21 Apr

Did you ever see that move, “Sliding Doors”, starring Gwyneth Paltrow?  The one where during part of it she has a really bad wig?  She used to be kind of cool back then, before she married Chris Martin from Coldplay and then got far too fancy.Me neither, I never saw it.  From what I understand, though, the premise is about how a woman’s life changes based on a decision.  Crazy to think that one instant can change the trajectory of your life forever.

Have you ever thought about your own life that way?  About the moments that define the path your life takes, and those that have led you to where you are now?  Decisions like whether to go to that party in high school or stay on the couch watching a Blockbuster movie with your family, to say yes or no to a date, to go to a certain university, to grab that condom or say “fuck it” (literally), to take one job over another, to move to another city, to mend that relationship or let it go, to have kids or not, to leave a bad situation or stay because it’s less scary, to say yes to something you’re afraid of?

I’ve made one of those decisions for myself.  A big one.

I know what you’re thinking, that I’m going off on some rant about how it’s probably about what kind of wine to drink while I’m watching my latest Netflix binge, Bates Motel.


Please tell me you’re watching the show.  Are you watching it?  Because it is totes amazing.  Man did those writers do a fantastic job of creating an fucked up story about why Norman Bates is the way that he is and how freaking CRAZY his mother is.  And that season opener for season 3?  I mean, Norman spooning his mother?  Yuck.  Like creepy yuck.  Like on the cusp of incestuous but not and just gross and it made me feel so yucky, and I can’t wait to keep watching the show to find out what happens.  And also when I’m not being grossed out by the whole Norman-and-his-mom thing, then I’m staring at the teeth of the dude who plays his brother, Max Theiriot.  His veneers!  Ugh, they’re worse than Timothy Olyphant’s.  Just, not good.  They’re as fake as Lisa Rinna’s face.  No es bueno.  But the show, watch it.

[end sidebar]

Yeah, so anyway, big decision.  I’m quitting my job.  I’m leaving.  No more day long meetings, or serving as the complaint department, or as playing tech support, or trying to help someone manage his way out of paper bag, or stroking some douche bag’s ego. Life’s too short to be in a job that poisons your soul.

In exactly 61 days I’m submitting my resignation. I’m out.

Fingers crossed I win the lotto between now and then or I might have to go back to turning tricks behind the Safeway or dancing for nickels.

Catherinette: Cock Blocker Extraordinaire!

1 Jul

Cock blockers. Let’s talk about them. How much we hate them. Remember going to a bar in college, making nice to some hot cutie, knowing that your privates were gonna rub up all against them, and then your dreams being shattered by a friend who would ruin it all? Yeah. Me too. 

And remember the time when your friend who had cock blocked you had made a romantic connection and you decided it was time for pay back and you went ahead and became that cock blocker? Yeah. Me too. 

I’ll do you one better. Remember the time when my secret boyfriend told me he was going to the beach and I told him not to get pregnant? Yeah. So does he. Apparently it’s been on his mind so much that he decided not to go to the beach. Why? Because he said I had jinxed him. 

Me: You’re welcome! Or I’m sorry. 

Him: You’re awful. 


Him: No. Not any time. 

I’ve decided to randomly stop by his desk and remind him to make smart choices. Thereby ensuring no one night stands for him. 


Sometimes I think I’m Garfield

29 Jun

I read the comics as a child.  What kid wasn’t into it?  Remember those days when Sunday papers had the big color comics spread.  I clearly remember running outside, leaving a paper trail of the stupid business and world news sections on the floor, and whipping open the comics section to find out the latest shenanigans that Calvin & Hobbs, Brunhilda, Mother Goose, and sometimes even Marmaduke were up to.

Then there was Garfield.  You remember him, right?  The overweight orange tabby cat who sassed his owner, harassed his fellow pet-roommate (Odie), and ate just about anything they put in front of him?  Then at some points – for some ungodly reason – they made a movie about him starring Jennifer Love Hewitt.  No shock that it was a total bomb.  No es bueno.

While I didn’t necessarily rush to read Garfield,  I could appreciate his wit, his laziness, his torture of Odie.  He was a bit of a dick really.  I mean, really, if you think about it, he was a prick.  I’d venture to say that he was the original grumpy cat. As I’ve grown into an adult, I reflect on how right Garfield was about how absolutely wretched Mondays are.

There is no greater evil on this Earth than a Monday morning.  Without a doubt I will wake up angry, bitter, sad, and frustrated – all at the same time.  This morning, for instance, the first think I said out loud was, “Fuck this,” as soon as the alarm went off.  Do you have any idea how sad it is to wake up alone in your house and have the first words out of your mouth – essentially spoken to the empty house – be “fuck this”?  That’s not cute.  Not cute.  I picture the day when one day some man is laying next to me on a Monday morning, the alarm goes off, and he wakes up to me saying, “Fuck this”.  What will he do?

I’m getting ahead of myself.  The likelihood of that happening is slim to none, especially if we consider my track record for sleeping ALONE every night for the last zillion billion years.

How’d we get on this topic?  Mondays, right…

Earlier this year I started watching Game of Thrones.  The further I got into it, and the more that King Joffrey (the most vile human being ever) was featured in the show, it became clear to me that Monday’s are to the world what King Joffrey is to Game of Thrones.  He is as ugly on the outside as he is on the inside.

Those of you who have seen the show know exactly what this means.  For those of you who don’t watch it, you should – and then you’ll see that I’m totes right.