WOO! Time to Post!

Things I have done:

Effected Change.

First I gave money to a great cause in the name of someone who hates said cause.

Then I noticed that the only other woman in the office suddenly had a cute houndstooth jacket, with puffed sleeves and a flirty little ruffle at the back! It was very poor quality fabric--probably barely thick enough to count as a jacket--but it was cute, and this lady dresses worse than most men I know (although she tries, which is just fucking painful) so I took it upon myself to reward her for good behavior by complimenting her. She smiled and said, "Well, since you with all your youth and glory moved in, I thought I'd try to be a little more stylish!"

Think it's funny that she just now noticed I was younger and more stylish than she is? It's not--for my first several months here I just wore whatever I had that covered all right body parts and didn't show off my chest. (Difficult enough in and of itself.) No makeup, barely a comb through my hair. No more. For the past several weeks I have worn makeup, put hair gunk in my hair, and worn nice clothes--nice pants, nice shirts, high heels. Why?

Told Disapproving Old Women Just Where They Can Stick It

I (and other young'uns I work with) always feel pretty ignored by the older generation, especially since (as I've mentioned before) there's a large gap between changes in the guard. So we snipe. And bitch. And complain. About old people, and how they walk slowly and smell and can't type and can't dress (orthopedic shoes, anyone?) or follow our thoughts because we REFUSE TO SLOW DOWN, DAMNIT. And I've always felt a little bad about this, because hey, it's not their fault they're old, right? Maybe it's a little harsh to wish them all a speedy death so we can TAKE OVER.

And then I was on my vanpool a few mornings ago, and this NEW vanpool that I'm riding is full of women, whom I've bonded with. They're great. Very strong. And because we've bonded, they often forget how old I am, and a few mornings ago the talk turned to age. One woman vented, "I can't stand all these young kids at Boeing! I go into the cafeteria now and I think, 'Are we having a Family Day? Are we having a High School Visitation Day?'"

I BEG YOUR PARDON?

Before, like I said, I felt bad. And I never really thought about how I must look to these women, all in their mid-forties, but if I had, I would have felt bad about that, too.

NO LONGER.

I'm going to wear miniskirts and the highest heels I own. I'm going to wear makeup and toss my hair and flirt with men old enough to be my grandfather, just so they won't look at the older women. I'm 24 effin' years old, lady, I'm old enough to do anything I want to do except run for president. I'm old enough to take your job and do it better, I'm old enough to make decisions about birth control and sun exposure that you apparently didn't make. I'm tired of adults trying to drag me down to their level. I don't WANT to have kids, and I'm not going to be willing company in your misery.

And, if this added stylishness only inspires stylishness in other, older, women, then so much the better for them. And me.

Passed On the Curse of Food Obsession

Rooomate is cutting down on the Mountain Dew habit and trying to eat more greens. Trying to eat less junk.

Expanded My Attempts to Mold Young Minds

I might have a new tutoring student (did y'all know I tutor, too? Because, everyone knows, I don't work enough,) and I spent all weekend counseling a horde of screaming teenaged girls, which was actually a blast. Mwa hahahahahahaha.

I just feel so influential!