Love Urban Dictionary. Love, love, love it. It’s how I find out what the hell my children are talking about and on top of that, it’s hilarious – usually. “Donkey Punch” look it up, you’ll probably regret it – but it’s worth it. Anywho…

My husband I were sans kids for Valentine’s Day this year (so this is a little old) and instead of our tradition of doing nothing and hanging out with the kids on this lover’s holiday, the husband wanted to go out to dinner. We decided to go to our favorite restaurant downtown and since we KNEW it would be crowded as all hell, we decided to go at 5:30 so we could get a seat at one of their communal tables.

We sat, drank, ordered, drank, had dessert, and then drank. After all that drinking and eating we got the bill. At this particular establishment, they send out these adorable little fruit candies with your bill, that look like this:

Every time we eat at this restaurant, I BEG my husband to take a man-hand sized fistful of these little delectables out of the basket on the hostess stand, and he never does… because he’s a total dick. So since it was Valentine’s Day and I really  wanted him to grab me a handful of the candy, I said, “If you grab a handful of the candy, I’ll let you shove them into my vagina and then punch me in the stomach so that they shoot out like a pinata…” His  response was, “Uh, I think you mean poon-yata….” I nearly died laughing. First, I was laughing because what grown woman talks about, in a crowed, nice dining establishment. shoving candy into her vagina and second, what husband is that awesome? I mean seriously, could we be any more perfectly matched??

Thinking a poon-yata HAS to be something someone has already thought of (there is NO WAY we are the first one to think of this, right?) I pulled up Urban Dictionary, right there at the table, and conducted a search for “poon-yata” and nothing! There is a “Poonata” which is: A term used to define a plastic bag containing turd (usually dog) hanging from low branch / bush. A peculiarly British middle classed phenomenon whereby the owners bag their pooch’s turd yet hang it from a branch rather than dispose of in doggy bin. 

HOW IS IT POSSIBLE NO ONE HAS ADDED THIS TO UD???? I think I have a visit to Urban Dictionary to make in the near future to publish a submission. Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all!

You’ve all heard it. I know you have.

“I deserve to be happy.”

“I deserve to find love.”

“I deserve that raise.”

“I deserve respect.”

What is really being said is, “I feel entitled to_______.” Using the word deserve when referring to yourself is such a jackass move. If you REALLY deserved something, and I mean really, really deserve it, you would have it. At the risk of people thinking I am crazy – and let’s face it, I don’t care if they do – when people say the actual word “deserve” in a sentence referring to themselves, they strip away gratitude or acknowledgement of hard work. Let me use the quotes above as examples.

Example 1: “I deserve to be happy.”

Why? Why do you DESERVE that? There isn’t a happiness fairy that comes by at night and slips happiness into the hearts of deserving people. Happiness is a choice – or so I’m told, I’m not sure I really know what it is, but I sure as shit know it’s not something I DESERVE. Choose to be happy. Choose to be kind, choose to be giving, choose to care as much about others as you do yourself, and you will be happy. Do that and stop thinking about what you deserve, and you will be happy. FUCK.

Happiness is hard work. It’s stuffing down all the shit that makes you miserable, deep, deep down and finding the light in the dark and not dismissing it, but rather going toward it. It’s looking at the smile on your niece’s face, choking back the tears welling in your eyes, and the swelling feeling of despair because you can’t have your own children, and realizing that life would be oh-so-much worse without this love, this face, this charm and being grateful in it. When you do that, you will be happy… not just deserving of it.

Example 2: “I deserve to find love.” Again, WHY?

Maybe the reason you haven’t found the “love” you think you “deserve” is because you are a self-involved prick with unrealistic expectations of the world, people and what they owe you. And quite frankly, ain’t nobody got time for that. I love the scene from another Academy Award winning movie, The Wedding Date starring Debra Messing and Dermot Mulroney:

Kat : You say, and I quote, “Every woman has the exact love life she wants. ” That seems a
broad generalization…
Do you honestly believe that I want to be single and miserable?
Do you think that I want to be hung up on some guy who led me on for years and out of the blue shattered my heart?

Nick: First of all, there’s no such thing as out of the blue. And second of all, yeah.

Kat: What?

Nick: When you’re ready to let go, to be un-single and un-miserable, you will. Till then…

How about them apples. Stop obsessing about what should happen, and start making it happen. If things aren’t working doing what you’ve always done, do something else. I’ve been married a LOOOOOOONNNNNNGGGGGG time. One of the best things my husband said to me early on is, “I could have married a lot of people and been happy, been in love. I’m happiest and most in love with you.” At first I was a bit butt hurt. I was like, Wait! I’m not the only person you have ever loved, and if I’m not… You can actually imagine being in love and happy with someone else?? You know what? Get a recorder out, this almost never happens, but wait for it…. He was right. Since he said that, I started to realize there are a lot of things I love about a lot of people. There are also a lot of things I hate about a lot of people. Being “in love” is simply a matter of finding someone who’s things you love outweigh the things you hate AND THEN focusing on the former instead of the latter. Love is hard work. Rewarding, but hard. Find the light in that darkness, choosing what you are going to focus on, is up to you. You are the one who controls what outcome you get.

Example 3: “I deserve that raise.” No, no you don’t. If you did, you’d have it.

If you haven’t gotten that raise (replace “raise” with respect, responsibility, promotion, title, etc.) then you have missed something. Your employer doesn’t OWE you anything other than what you agreed to when you were hired. If you think you deserve more, you sure as shit better communicate it and make your case for it. Rare is it that someone will offer up something to you in your career just because. People as assholes and people working for corporations are even worse. If you feel like you have EARNED something, fight for it. If you don’t get it, do MORE, fight HARDER. If you still don’t get it, take that experience and leverage it with someone who will start with the agreement you were looking to work to at the last place. Hard work and determination yields results, NOT the feeling of entitlement. Stop being a bitch for christ’s sake.

Example 4: See example 3.

The gist of this rant is, the only thing that people “deserve” is what’s coming to them. It’s a negative… always a negative. Stop shrouding yourself in the negative of what you deserve and start being grateful for what you have and celebrate the hard work it took to get here. When you are done celebrating start thinking about your next milestones. Stop thinking about what you’ve done to “deserve” what you think you want, and start making a plan to achieve it. Plus, if I have to hear one more co-worker or barren girlfriend talk about what they deserve, I’m going to give it to them… in the form of a swift kick in the ass. Choke on that.

What happens when your fat ass gains 40 pounds in 4 years? You have to go to the gym – that’s the punishment. What happens when you don’t go to the gym? You stay fat – that’s the punishment. At least that WAS the punishment. I’ve gotta lose 40 pounds, visit the page “Losing My Mind AND My Fat Ass” to follow my progress and share in the CRAZY way I’m going to reach my goal.

Hitch nailed it. Yes, I am referring to Alex Hitchins (Will Smith) in the 5 star, academy award winning, romantic comedy, Hitch.

“You’re sending all the right signals. No earrings, heels under two inches, your hair pulled back… reading glasses with no book, drinking a Grey Goose martini, which means you had a hell of a week and a beer just wouldn’t do it. If that wan’t clear enough… there’s always the “fuck off” that you have stamped across your forehead.” Hitch addressing Sara (Eva Mendez – basically my twin).

Absolutely perfect.

I recently experienced a sort of, vaguely, could be considered similar, scenario . Let me set the scene:

I was at our local Irish pub on Friday night, 5:00 pm bellied up to the bar. Jeans, blouse, Five Lamps and a book. Yes… a book, at a bar, on a Friday night – and not 50 Shades of Grey, but Nudge – a behavioral economics book. Super sexy, right? Let me also disclose, I’m 37 going on 54. I have 19 and 17 year old kids. I’m not a 37 like January Jones:

          I’m more of an Ally Sheedy:

        Only fatter an pretty fucking old – aka, nothing to look at.

So I’m sitting there, trying to slam as many beers as I can before I have to leave to pick the husband up from the train station and I hear, “Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?” I didn’t even look up to say, “I don’t think so.” I assumed my disinterest in talking to another human being was pretty clear. That assumption lasted about 12 and a half minutes before I heard, “So, what book are you reading?” I wanted to be a total dick and say something like, “Seriously? Book, bar, GET A CLUE.” Instead, I closed the book cover, placed the book on the bar, picked up my glass, downed the last half of my beer, sighed [quietly] and said, “Nudge.”

“Huh. What’s that about?”

“Behavior architecture.”

Blank stare.

“Purchasing behaviors and marketing influence.”

“OH! I worked for 3M printers, 20 years ago in sales!”

Really? That’s shocking. Judging by your toupee, I would have guessed porn. Not really… he was actually really nice and I’m sure just looking for a little social interaction on a Friday night, but there were 30 other people sitting around that bar. NONE of whom were reading a book. For the love of god [or flying spaghetti monster], WHY ME??

Guys, if a “woman” is reading a book at a bar, you can assume she wants to drink her beer quietly, without interruption, ALONE. This applies no matter how old, innocent your intentions, or porn-tastic your wig is.

PSA delivered.

Marketing = Creatives

Creative = Emotion

Me = Apathetic

I’m no math whiz, but I can put 2 and 2 together.

2. I’m what can best be describe as “a dude”. I am vulgar, perverted, fun loving, BEER loving, mildly social, thick skinned and quite blunt. When I attempt be be politically correct it usually comes across as insincere.

2. [Most] creative people (graphic designers, copywriters, etc.) “exhibit heightened emotional sensitivity”. – Don’t get your panties in a wad, creatives… that “” part came from a list I found on the interwebs at http://thesecondprinciple.com/creativity/creativetraits.

* Before I put 2 and 2 together, let me say that I work with 6 creatives and there is only ONE for whom heightened emotional sensitivity is an issue. It is to this person I am referring.

Now for the math:

2 + 2 =

Clearly I bootlegged this photo from Google images because it was AWESOME, just like me, but you get the point. Hopefully this yogi blog won’t serve me with a cease and desist. I assigned this designer a project titled, “Emergency Response Infographic”. What I got looked a lot like this:

 NOT like my example

My conversation to address this issue resulted in such a outlandish, childish response that I could hardly believe I was standing in a professional office, it felt more like a gym daycare. Seriously, the only thing missing from the tantrum was the whole flat on the back scene, where arms and legs are flailing up and down to provide a dirty blue mat a well-deserved beating. The only thing I could do was roll my eyes and say, “I have two teenage daughters, I’m not going to deal with this shit at work, Gwennie (referencing the biggest celebrity twat I could think of, Gweneth Paltrow)”. The Gwennie thing was totally lost on him. Yep, this designer is male. Don’t mistake that for a dude, guy or even a man… he is none of these. He is a petulant, juvenile, twat.

Of course there is going to have to be some managerial intervention here, but as far as I’m concerned this is not the first tantrum, eye-roll sigh-fest I have had to endure with this waste of space, but it will be the last. The thing about being a female “Dude” is that you play well, and work well with others, so people like you for the most part. This means when it comes down to a he said, she said or your versus me situation, the dude wins. I will prevail!

For now, all I have to say is, “Gwennie, eat a bag of dicks. This whole department thinks you suck more than Ray Rice volunteering at a women’s shelter.”