Christmas Sparkles

Merry, merry to all of my sparklers! I hope you are all feeling as lucky and sparkly as I am. With five days of fun (including a four day, insane bender of a weekend) and two days of Christmas, family overload, I'm feeling as sparkly and special as this super twinkly, but almost dead tree.

Merry Christmas, ho, ho, hoes.
SD

Ho, ho, ho Bitches!!

AT LAST.  Finally I am feeling sufficiently sparkly enough to get in the holiday spirit.  I'm not going to lie, for the past two weeks, starting with my run in with Mr. CAPSY, your girl has been feeling a little less twinkly than what is typical for a holiday sparkler.  After hours upon hours of meetings, and work, and more meetings and more revisions requested by CAPSY, we finally birthed out the f-ing project and presentation last night.    And damned if CAPSY didn't throw a few curveballs of his own into the presentation, going off on tangents and offering the class "one of a kind Korean stamp sets" at the end of the presentation.  I'm not even fucking with you about that last thing.  He seriously whipped out stamp sets from his backpack and started passing them out.  The professor was like "Sit DOWN, Chairman Mao."  It was such a show.  In the end I just had to take the dumb boy by the balls (not literally, you dirty thinking sluts) and do most of it myself because I just needed to be done with it and was tired of dicking around over email.  Yes, it was annoying and made for an un-sparkly two weeks (for real-I was very "Angela Chase after Jordan Catalano breaks her heart the second time"), but I feel pretty good about it and it was a little ego boost to know I could do so much by myself.  And a good reminder of a very important truth:

It's funny because it's true.  Bitches get it done, right?  And I did and now it's done and I can finally feel sparkly about the impending holidays in a proper fashion.  Like I woke up this morning and it was like my inner disco ball turned back on and was like "let's get this party started, guurrrl" to which I was all "WORD."

Obviously, I would never do a weird Riverdance on a rooftop, even IF John Travolta and ONJ asked me too (that's a lie, I TOTALLY WOULD).  But I do feel like I have more pep in my step.  (BTW-have you guys SEEN the amazing, not at all a joke, music video for Danny and Sandy Part 2, An Awkward, Huggy Christmas?  If not, please watch it RIGHT THIS MINUTE.  I'll wait.  It is worth it and again, please remember that this is not a Saturday Night Live skit.  THIS IS REAL.)

Seriously.  How GOOD is that video?  How can you not laugh your ass off watching that gem?  You can't!

Anyway, clearly I won't be doing anything that remotely resembles THAT hot mess, but I do plan to spend the next two weeks sparkling and twinkling my ass off in anticipation of the holidays.  Only my version will look more like this:

At least in my head it will.  Because in my head, I am ALWAYS, ALWAYS fierce like Beyonce. Always.

Happy Friday, Sparklers!  Go get some naughty in while there's still time!

Issues.
SD

Boys Don't Cry (except when they sometimes do)

I made a boy cry this week.  Not full on, sobbing, ugly cry.  It was just a little wet eyes, quivery lip action, but it was definitely a cry.  I wish I didn't feel such pleasure in admitting that, but trust me, when I tell you why and how, you will also share in my happiness.

As you know, I am in grad school.  I'm almost finished my second class, which up until this week, I enjoyed a lot.  The professor is engaging, and the homework, while a pain in my ass, was somewhat satisfying because I really had to think and work hard to do well (which I've done).  The one dark spot in my class happiness is my group project.  Four people, shoved together to work on a paper and presentation.  Under normal circumstances, it's a lot of compromise and back and forth, because really, how can four people possibly write a 15 page paper together?  (Hint: THEY CAN'T)  Anyway, in my group, there is one guy.  We've all experienced someone like this douche bag in our lives.  He corrects the professor in class, is overly intense about the tiniest things (like the fact he got one point more than I did on the mid-term), and tends to type and talk IN ALL CAPS.  ALWAYS.  BECAUSE HE IS THAT SERIOUS.

Anyway, this guy, we will call him Capsy Asshat for simplicities sake.  So Capsy sent me his section of the paper to add to the others because I was compiling the various sections and trying to make it sound like one paper instead of four.  Well, when Capsy sent me his section, he sent it with a note saying that he "appreciated a second set of eyes on the paper, but he is confident it's good just as it is".  Ok, Capsy.  So I start reading it, and within the first page, found two instances where he repeated himself, using the exact same phrasing: "intimacy of personal life".  That's pretty specific to use two times within two paragraphs.  Anyway, I email Capsy with his section highlighted and with comments of the other seven instances where there was repetition.   I asked him to send me revisions since he clearly stated not to touch his shit.  What happened after that can only be described as a roller coaster into Crazytown.  Capsy proceeded to accuse me in a series of 8 separate emails of "posturing for political purposes", telling me that he wrote the whole paper and I was a self-admitted slacker who used my daughter as an excuse for laziness, and.....  (and this is the nuclear bomb) a racist.  (Capsy is Chinese).

Well, my friends, I have been called a lot of not so nice things in my lifetime.  A bitch?  Absolutely, on a regular basis.  Cold and unfeeling?  Of course.  Shallow?  Yes, I admit it.  But a racist?  I. DON'T THINK. SO.  I had started seeing red when Capsy accused me of being a slacker.  But after accusing me of racism?

You could say I got a little more heated after that.  Especially when I found out the next morning he said many of the same things to our professor, including me being a slack ass racist.  In fact, you could say that I turned into Lady Hulk Hogan, such was my rage.  Luckily my professor was on to Capsy and talked me off a ledge.  But not before we had a group meeting where Capsy attempted to apologize, saying he just gets "emotional" and felt the full force of my inner Queen Bitch.  I won't go into specific details of what I said, because I'm a lady (ha!) but also because it was a long-ass tirade.  Inside I was all like:

Outside, however, I was totally cool like the coolest girl ever, Stephanie Zinnone. From Grease 2, obviously.

No raised voices, no physical violence.  I was so in the Queen Bee Bitch zone that remembering exact details are a little fuzzy.  I know the other girl in my group made a squeaky sound at one point, and when it was over, there was Capsy, teary-eyed and lip quivering like a little bitch.  (not to be confused with Queen Bee Bitch).

And I went home, feeling like I wanted to high five the world.  I don't always bring out the bitch, but when I do, I prefer to cause tears.  Does that make me a bad person?  Probably.  Whatever.  I'm still riding the high from putting Capsy in his place and could go another round if needed.  Come at me!!    (just kidding, I love all my sparkly peeps and don't want to come at you.)

But, seriously, Capsy.  Cross me again?  Imma CUUUT you.  Rude.

Straight Thug,
SD