Sugar Daddy Purchasing Power

After searching high and low for a little slice of heaven in the sky, aka a new apartment, the search has ended.  McNasty, the landlord, decided that maybe we aren’t terrible heathens after all.  Actually, he decided that he could tolerate three of us living here (in our same old apartment) for an additional fee.  (Ding, ding, ding)  Just more proof that every “no” is only an excruciatingly painful price tag away from a yes.

So apparently having money means you never have to hear no.  Is this why rich people are so damn smug?  Does that explain this face?

and this face?

and this???

If these fools somehow “purchase” this election (cause there is no way they will get it on the up and up), then I am going straight out and finding me a sweet, sugar daddy.  I am tired of hearing no, and I, too, would like to be vice president of the United States.  Step 1:  seek and destroy sugar daddy, Step 2:  seek and destroy all that right is with the world, Step 3:  purchase $150,000 wardrobe (vaguely promise to donate some scraps to charity), Step 4:  Take over the world.

Let’s hope Obama wins or I will be selling my eggs, plasma, and soul to the highest bidder (Sugar Daddies apply within).  See you at the polls!

Overachieving 30+ SWF seeks Baby Daddy???

To do:

• Buy eggs
• Update annual budget
• Review customer survey
• Find Baby Daddy
• Make Baby

I laughed.  My male friend, Mr. Dates-Super-Hot-Chicks was making this story up.  However, he persisted in his insistence that there is a new breed of women on the dating scene (and according to him, at least, they are quite frightening).  Apparently, the formerly overachieving independent female careerists transform (around age 30ish) via baby fever into overachieving wannabe mommies on a mission for the ideal baby daddy (i.e. husband).

He offered the following as a prime example of this phenomena:

“Jane” (name changed to protect the insane) loved numbers.  She spent much of her 20s vigorously pursuing her dream job as an elite political pollster.  Her job required her to be meticulous detailed – cross referencing data, analyzing the results, and forming strategies based on the numbers.  So when Jane caught the baby bug as a 30ish single woman, she used the same skills to land her the baby daddy of her dreams.  She made a list of the ideal characteristics in a father, made a list of places/activities that would attract these men, laid out a strategy for meeting them, and executed, executed, executed (this involves a binder of lists and a very detailed calendar of events ~ baby making networking is not for the faint of heart).  With some serious planning and a bit of lipstick, she now has her dream baby daddy and is well into the process of curing her baby fever.

Dear.God.what.the.shit.  Does this really happen?  Is it just women in this super overachieving city?  Do I really have to strategize to be a baby maker?  I am 28…I don’t even know when I want babies, and this fever could hit me any day!  Can’t I just meet a guy, fall madly in love, then accidentally get knocked up and be forced to marry him like every other normal marriage???

Seriously disturbed,

Fanfrickingtastic

Recess is not playtime

Congress is in recess, which means one thing to staffers of our fine Representatives and Senators: dress down. An anything goes wardrobe instantly replaces the affordably priced wannabe power suits. Designer jeans tucked into leather knee high boots, leggings and barely ass covering sweater dresses (please stop this trend), and FLIP FLOPS rule the Capitol. It is a glorious time to be at work…unless you forget that you have a very important meeting.

I skipped into my office wearing an adorable v-neck red dress with a cute shrug cardigan (to class up the ensemble). Since it was unseasonably warm (thank you global warming), I had decided that gold thong sandals were the perfect compliment to tie the whole casu-chic look together (that is sarcasm…really I had woken up late, thrown shit on top of shit and ran off to work). I settled into work and forgot all about my wardrobe.

“Oh, shit.”

The Outlook 15-minute meeting reminder popped up on my computer screen. It read, “Very Important Meeting with VERY important people – DON’T dress like a jackass.” S.h.i.t. “Oh well,” I thought to myself, everyone will be in recess-wear. As usual, I was wrong. The other staffers (two men) were dressed in jeans and a dress shirt, the other men in the room were in full suits, the ONLY other woman was dressed in an adorable Palin-esque (I hate that I just used that word) brightly colored and impeccably tailored suit (nylons included, gross – die nylons, die). My red sundress, gold sandals, and brokedown half-polished red toenails were just NOT cutting it. I hate myself.

Anyhow, the meeting was fine, but the other woman thought I was a disgrace. She up-and-downed me and I couldn’t even blame her for her nasty disdain. Total disgrace to women everywhere. Lesson learned: Just because Congress is in recess doesn’t mean I get to dress like a middle schooler.

Thank heaven for little girls

Life gets seriously shitty sometimes. Like seriously, ridiculously shitty.  Like when your super tight budget decides to explode and become a super tight non-functioning budget, and then you get to very large bills that you weren’t expecting (and never even knew were possible), and then your landlord hates your life and your roommates lives and would very much prefer to see you living in your car…but oh wait, you can’t afford to have your car in the city…that kind of shitty.

So it is with this very depressing backdrop that I say, “I had an amazing day and I love women (but not in that way…not that there’s anything wrong with that).” I started a women’s staff association at work a few months ago and we had a first event tonight. Over 80 women came to hear four female chiefs of staff (the highest staff level position) speak about their experiences working on Capitol Hill. They were inspiring and helpful, but they were also crass and funny and everything I want to be when I finally grow up. However, the really great part of the event was getting to meet the other 80 women who came to the event. These women had on fabulous outfits, perfect makeup, and were discussing ridiculous things….like the effect of speculation on oil prices and whether the provision in the fair access to credit card act was actually providing access to credit. Sexy, powerful nerds! I love it!

So thank you, fabulous ladies! You reminded me that I’ve got no time to worry about any shitty parts of my life. There is too much to do…watch out boys (stealing your job is number one on my to do list)!

Speaking of fabulous: 1. my boss unexpectedly told me I was doing a great job today AND 2. Johnson & Johnson gave out FREE bottles of my facewash. Can you say awesome day?

Apparently “we” can get pretty damn dumb

“How dumb can we [women] get?” is the question Charlotte Allen attempts to answer in this Sunday’s Washington Post.  Sadly, instead of writing an answer about stupidity, she embodies it. 

Dear Miss Allen,

It’s not stupid to feel so passionate over a political candidate that you can’t resist the urge to yell out for them in support.  It’s not stupid to pass out at a rally, because you waited all day in a packed standing room only auditorium to learn about a candidate that may soon be the leader of our country.  It’s not stupid to be a ground breaker and have set backs.  

It is stupid, however, to generalize and degrade women.  It’s stupid to mock those who are constructively participating in the political process; it’s stupid to get your facts wrong; AND it’s plain criminal as a woman to make misleading statements, which you know to be false, to shut down other women.  In theory, it’s also stupid to make nonsensical arguments with random facts (but that’s just me being nitpicky).       

Though you may detest certain stereotypical aspects of femininity, your arguments miss the point.  It doesn’t matter that half of Grey’s Anatomy story lines are about relationships, or that Hillary showed emotion while campaigning, or that the author of “Eat, Pray, Love” divorced her “perfectly okay” husband.  The point is that no one questions that there are female surgeons prominently featured on tv (not to mention that those female surgeons rival their male counterparts in ability and sexual partners – get it, ladies!).  The point is the author of “Eat, Pray, Love” chose to leave her husband, because “perfectly okay” wasn’t good enough (contrary to all stereotypical views of how a woman should behave).  The point is there is a female running for President!  Quit undermining our collective voice with petty attacks. 

Women should not have to conform to a man’s opinion of what a woman should be anymore than they should conform to your opinion.  The beauty of feminism is our ability to embrace it, reject it, and even define it for ourselves. 

So if you love romantic cryfest movies, go see Atonement fifteen times in the theatre.  If you’re an Obama lover, fawn, swoon, and pass out then VOTE!  If you love pink, hell deck yourself out from pink beret all the way down to hot pink, patent leather stilettos.  It’s not stupid to be who you are, and Miss Allen, if all of those things are aggravating to you, then don’t do them.  It’s your choice.  That’s the glory. 

I appreciate your opinion.  However, I sincerely hope that next time you use your voice to empower women instead of tearing them down.  You were born with a vagina, may as well embrace the damn thing.