Howdy

I haven’t been posting because Mom and I have been busy searching for a place to call home. The Realtor has taken us to 4 houses and one of them I fell in love with. It is an isty bitsy , teeny weeny house with a huge den. It sits on 4 acres of natural desert and is zoned so we can put a park model on it. Reality has set in and I have been looking at resale value and the cost of putting in a park model and so we started looking again.

The funny part is when we sat down with the Realtor and he asked, not once but twice, if we were serious. I just ignore him and didn’t answer because I have a little bit of an attitude problem.

I am who I am. Nothing less and nothing more.

I remember a moment in time, when I got fed up with people judging me. I called a friend and set up a beauty appointment. I had the works done – nails, hair, makeup and even my toes weren’t ignored. I was totally re manufactured in less than 2 hours. I got home, looked in the mirror, and didn’t recognize myself. I even took notes so I could remember where to apply and how. Then I slipped on my new high heel shoes, which by the way, matched my new dress, and practiced walking. I even mastered the art of spraying perfume in the air and walking into the aroma. Which by the way I thought was the stupidest thing I ever heard from a fellow female co worker who was the epitome of Suzy Secretary. By the time morning had arrived I was ready. I could walk without falling, I had everything applied correctly and I remembered to carry the tube of lipstick that I bought. I promised myself I would not kick off my shoes but then I discovered I couldn’t drive in them and broke that promise.

You could have heard a pin dropped when I walked in the door of my job. Why just the other day I was wearing jeans, a Ganesh t-shirt, and flip flops and then I showed up BEAUTACIOUS.

My job description was “secretary” and I was definitely dressed as Suzy Secretary. The problem with that was nothing got done. I couldn’t do computer repairs because of my nails. I couldn’t crawl under, on, and over desks because I had on a dress. I couldn’t change the toner because I didn’t want to stain my clothes and I didn’t go into the server room because I didn’t want to melt. It was hotter than Hades in that little room. Hell I didn’t fix the toilet either! I just stayed at my desk and was the perfect, manicured, scented secretary.

Someone, who shall remain nameless, even said I could find a man if I kept dressing up like that.

By the end of the day there were a few folks that were angry because their computers weren’t working, state office had to send someone out to go into the server room, and a certain someone, of a higher authority, hinted that I needed to show up the next day dressed appropriately for my job.

WELL BUTTER MY BUTT AND CALL ME A BISCUIT.