All I know is that I was more willing to FAKE A MISCARRIAGE than go to a store and buy a box of tampons.
I wholeheartedly and un-jokingly blame Trump for my (crushingly personal) baby-misadventure.
I’ve been chewing my fingernails my whole life.
Frankly, it never occurred to me that I could be accused of sexual harassment. The request of my employee to “move that box…AND TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT!” was simply, awesomely, hilarious.
The only time the assistant director wants to talk to me is when he’s in his Hype Man mode, which means team building, which means wasting time.
Half-truths, sweeping dismissals and blanket assumptions: is this my family legacy?
Sexualizing women at work is fine, but talking about depression is not.
Learn about Atticus Pug’s origin story; why my dogs hope and pray for my downfall on a daily basis; and how part of the pug lifestyle is accepting that every tangible item in your world will henceforth represent your ownership of a pug.
I’m getting increasingly frustrated with all the stupidity of my job that just happens to be piling up all at once. It’s curious how heavy nothing can feel.