Blonde Story Short

Some call it their private, some their wee (or the repetitive version: wee-wee) and if you're a part of my family...you call it The UNIT. Male, Female, makes no difference, you're dealing with The Unit. While the fact that we also call the remote control to the TV a "unit" can be confusing, generally it's a closed case if one can at all decipher context. In addition to the convenience of a unisex term, The Unit is ALL inclusive; encompassing but not limited to: the female internal organs (in addition to external), the source of all monthly irritability, and life for that matter, the place you're not allowed to kick Dad when you wrestle...all can be simplified as...The Unit. You can imagine my amusement (or perhaps a more accurate term, immaturity) when the meeting I scribed for all afternoon was about classes and "units." Really? To get that degree you need 78 UNITS ? That sure is a lot. I can barely figure out having one. That's hardcore. It ta

Ya know how there's that generalization about Mexican (or Italian) Catholic families going on for daaaaaaaays? Well, I no longer consider myself Catholic and am only 75% Mexican but...yea I got family for days. On Mother Theresa's side (really that's her name, I never said we weren't once Catholic) I'm one of approximately 50 cousins (translation: 50 primos). We sort of stopped counting after the 2nd cousins climbed to a whopping twenty five. And speaking of 25, being over that age and not having squeezed out a few...puts me behind. It's like I'm forever running the mile in PE...as a quarter-aged adult. One of my spectacular primos is Cuz Tom. You've heard of him before, if you keep up on Blonde like you should, and know that he is nothing short of entertaining...and smart (ladies?). After some love-stemmed badgering, I got Cuz Tom to join good 'ol Eharm. If you rolled your eyes or even shook your head in a disapproving (or maybe just bewildered)

In the mere two weeks I've been on the job (the job with benies and a fabulous office space, that is) I've realized a few things. I'll keep all of the details confined to my "Reflective, get to know myself deeper" journal and simply say this... I'm KINDA awkward While I pride myself on having polished social skills (humor me) I have found that in a work setting, like a real work setting, I sorta struggle. I can yuck it up all day with my fellow "assistant" level coworkers, but in conversation with the Steinbrenners of this place...this employee becomes awkwaaaaaaaaaard. It's as if I had sergeant-like parenting as a kid, leaving me intimidated by authority. So not the case. I mean, did YOU get to watch Melrose Place and Thirty Something at the age of nine? I think not. Anyway, I become nervous that I'll say something inappropriate or idiotic (not that it's completely out of the realm of possibility) to my boss or others that share her pr