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An Open Letter to Matt Lauer

30 Nov

Dear Matt Lauer,

Remember when you were in the news about a decade ago for wearing “mom jeans”?  Man, do I remember how people mocked you for those high waisted, faded, frumpy jeans.  As I recall you were also rocking a red sweater.  You kind of reminded me of an SNL skit, or a sad cat lady.  Yet you were still kind of okay.  That’s when you were still cool.  When families all over America would tune in to “The Today Show” to hear what you had to say.

You were the good guy.  Kind of handsome – aside from those awful jeans, a family guy, the boy next door.  The type of guy that girls like me found dreamy.  Charming, really.

How disappointing for us all to find out what an absolute douche bag you are.  How many hearts you’ve broken, worlds you’ve shaken, lives you’ve made miserable.  What an awful person you are, and poor choices you’ve made.

I’m glad those women came forward and told the truth about you.

Read your “apology” statement that you came out with.  I don’t think you’re sorry.  Scratch that, you are sorry, but you’re only sorry that you got caught.  You’re also a sorry bastard.  You know what you did wrong.  You know that you were being a fuck wad when you were you gifted your coworker a sex toy and told her how you wanted to use it on her.  What is wrong with you??  Don’t you know that you’re not supposed to do that unless the other person is clearly into you?

Guess what, Matt Lauer?  You can take your mom jeans and fuck yourself in your left eye.

You’re dead to me.

Insincerely yours, Catherinette

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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.

TEAM CATHERINETTE!!

Protected: How to know if you’re dating a douche bag

22 Jun

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How do you say “pretentious” in French?

9 Jan

What the hell is wrong with the French?  Why are they so pretentious with their boat shirts, and their baguettes, and their Brie, and their bicycles, and their berets, and their beajolais?  And what is it with everything starting with a b??

Even their damn cats are pretentious.

Cat+beret

The only good thing to have come out of France recently is…um…I’ll get back to you on this.

You, Sir, Are a Major A-hole

23 May

Jesus Harold Christ!  What the hell is wrong with people??  FOR THE LOVE!!

Sure, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’m PMSing.  OR maybe it has something to do with people being assholes.

So get this.  Being the stupid idiot that I am I decided to put my dating profile back on the interwebs.  Why?  Because my ovaries cry for a baby.  That’s another story for another day.  Anyway, this time around I’ve decided to respond to they bulk of messages, even if it’s to tell them we’re not compatible.

This evening a dude with a stupid username, let’s call him DOUCHEBAG777 sent me a message.  First red flag?  The fact that the only pic on his profile is about his chest.  Second red flag?  The fact that there are so many spelling errors on his profile?  Third red flag?  The fact that we have very little in common.  For example:

  • He is a racist, I am not.
  • He is a homophobe, I am not.
  • He is a sexist, I am a woman.
  • He’s looking for a short term relationship with a woman with low self esteem, I want to punch him in the mouth even though I don’t know what his face looks like
  • He’s looking for girls anywhere from 22-45, I’m looking for dudes 34-44 and he is 52
  • He is a douche, I am not

I wrote back and said thank you for the message, I took a look at his profile and it doesn’t look like we have much in common, then I wrote, “good luck with your search.”  Usually dudes don’t respond, or the write back and say “you too.”  This guy?  He got pissed and wrote, “You’re so rude!  You didn’t even answer my question.  I asked you why you moved.”

Dear DOUCHEBAG777, it’s no wonder you’re single.  You dick.

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

22 May

Ever notice how when something goes shitty in life then one of two things happens: either something even more shitty happens, or the universe send you a lifeline.  I got a mix of the two today.  Shitty, because of who it’s from.  Lifeline because it’s a reminder of how fucking amazing I am.

Get this.  No, really, GET THIS!!  My ass should be a natural treasure, because you know why?  When dudes tap it they get totally hypnotized and can’t let go and four fucking years later they still email and text you and try to get you to sleep with them.  You know who I’m talking about?  Yeah, you know who I’m talking about.  3 fucking D.

It’s been two months since the last exchange of text messages, and out of the blue he sends me a message.  I’ll admit, I’m in a vulnerable place so I go ahead and respond.  Check out the messages below (he’s in the white bubbles, and I’m the green).

20120522-210414.jpg

Can you fucking believe that shit??

I’m On To You

15 Dec

I have found the male version of Debbie Downer.  He’s somewhat younger than she is and has better hair, but he knows how to suck the joy out of just about every single situation.  Best part?  We’re working on a MASSIVE project together.  This means hours of weekly meetings, and side-by-side shit with him.  At least two hours of my day are spent sitting next to this massive black hole of a person.  He rarely smiles.  If he does, I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s just figured out how to ruin someone’s day.

Our meetings tend to go like this:

  • Me: What do you think of the idea?
  • Dude #1: Love it!
  • Dude #2: Let’s do it!
  • Male Debbie Downer: I don’t like it.

Then we have to spend another 30 minutes going over in circles until we can get him to say, “Fine.  Just do it.”  He sucks.

Part of me is intrigued and wants to find out why he’s such a miserable prick.  We had a lengthy conversation one afternoon where I peppered him with questions.  Turns out Miserable Prick lives alone and has a cat.  A cat called Gilbert.  Gilbert!  Who the hell names their cat Gilbert?  Miserable Prick, that’s who.  Gilbert is a biter, he likes to just saunter up to Miserable Prick and bite him.  My guess it’s because the cat is sick of his shit too.

Here’s the thing: living alone with a cat named Gilbert who bites would make anyone miserable.  But I know what the real reason he’s such a dick is: he’s never been laid.  Never touched a female breast.  Never seen vajean.  Never had his knob slobbered on.  That’s sad.  That’s really sad.  Did he tell me this?  No.  But I just fucking know it.

There’s no other reason.  There can’t fucking be.  This dude has got to get laid.

If only I could hook him up with Debbie Downer. the world would be a much better place.