Electrons

I got a letter from the woman who gave my job away. The Crazy-Ass Bitch - hereby known as the CAB - actually asked ME to apologize. Oddly, on the same day I sent a letter to her superior telling him of the situation, she miraculously "found" all of my paperwork that she had accused me of never sending (and without the paperwork, she couldn't give me the job... or so she argued in the email). I'm soooo unbelievably bitter. So today the CAB sent me a note, saying she didn't "appreciate [my] tone" and that, were I to write her a handwritten letter apologizing for how I addressed her, she might be able to find me another position "now that she has my paperwork." (Mind you, my paperwork has been there for three whole weeks.)

First of all, Crazy-Ass Bitch, you're not my momma. Second of all, I have nothing to apologize for. I called you on your bullshit, and that's the end of the story.

I wrote back saying that I refuse to apologize for something that is not my fault, and that I am deeply offended she would even suggest it.

Seriously. Where does that CAB get off?

I think she thinks I am a short fuse. And honestly, I know most of you don't know me, but I'm seriously not. I just think she wrongly accused me of something, gave away my job because of it, and then tried to shove it all off as being my fault. To me, that's just not ok. And now that CAB thinks that it's MY turn to effing apologize? Hells no.

In other negative zones, because I'm in the mood for whining, I was standing near a doorway yesterday waiting for a friend. This friend has been going through lots of troubling times, and I was sort of lost in thought about her, and about how seriously men can dick people over without remorse, and I was just sorta standing there dwelling on the fact that I hope things start to look up for her. Right then, a group of guys, maybe around 30 years old, walked by.

The shortest, ugliest one of the bunch turned to me and said, "How much?"

"What?" I said, although I had heard him perfectly fine.

"I said 'How much?'"

"That's not funny." I said, my eyes ice-cold. I'm never mean like this, but I was feeling negative, and I knew what he was insinuating. What's the other response? Laugh?

"What?" he asked.

"I said that's not fucking funny." I responded, even more coldly.

"Oh, Madame, I was just joking." he pathetically pleaded.

"I don't find being called a whore very funny." I answered back.

"Don't pay any attention to him, Madame," said whoever must have been the wisest of the group, while the other guy said to his friends that I was just a bitch who needed to get a sense of humor.

Look. Here's why it pisses me off: If a man stands in the doorway waiting for a friend, he's standing in the doorway waiting for a friend. If a woman stands in a doorway, well, she must be a hooker. I just don't think he realizes that being a woman is just that much (holding index near thumb) more difficult, on a daily basis, than it is being a man. Why can't I stand in a doorway at 9 pm in peace? All I'm trying to say is, don't force your sexist macho-ism on me. I'm not going to be pleased. And then, really, don't plead with me to have a sense of humor about it. I'm 25-years-old. It's never been funny to me, and I doubt it ever will. Pinch my ass in public, trap me in metro cars, or call me a whore. I've experienced it all - and then some - and the guys in question always wonder why I can't just lighten up and realize it's just them "having some fun." I wonder how they would feel if the tables turned. Delighted maybe, at first, just because they're so freaking immature. But I'm sure they would eventually learn to see it as degrading as it actually is.

There are other fucked up things going on, too. People I need to respond to me about Big Important Things are taking Their Sweet Time. Friends are suffering. I'm not sleeping enough and I haven't been able to spare two or three free hours in order to do my laundry that is getting stinky in the corner. I cannot wait for this whirlwind of negativity to pass... I need to get back to my own groove.

I am also bitter that I live so many time zones away that I have to watch these debates at 3 am. Friday is my birthday, and I am so lame that I am going to go out to dinner and then stay up for the debate. I feel as if someone who puts that much effort into all of it should be able to request they air at 6pm EST, not 9. But alas, I don't hold that much political power. And according to a NY Times article, I might not hold any: my absentee ballot still hasn't shown up, and it seems that 28 states aren't going to get their overseas voting ballots in time for the election. As if by magic....

In unrelated news, I went back to Spanish class today. I can't believe we held a whole two-hour class entirely in Spanish and I followed along. Speaking was not so hot, but I actually think this time it will start coming back to me. I can already tell that this teacher is going to be a good one - she managed to put me at ease within the first 15 minutes of class, which must be some sort of record. By next semester, I should be in the uber-advanced class. And at that point, I will be one excited cat.

So there's something positive. Finally.

Oh, and my sister is writing about positive things. Go visit her. It's uplifting.