Holy Pandemic

I wish I had taken the opportunity to write at the start of the pandemic. I was too busy going stir-crazy and trying to manager it all. I’m so grateful that I’ve been able to work from home, keep my family and my parents safe, and not really have much change other than the extras in life. What a shit show 2020 was….and really I don’t even think 2021 is looking to be that much better. Just our new normal. It sucks that my daughter doesn’t really know anything other than a life with masks. I mean she is only 6, and while she does remember
pre-pandemic days, it won’t be long until this is what she only knows. My boys are 8 & 10 now, and I think they will remember things. But again, who knows…I notice my boys forgetting so many things from earlier childhood days that are so vivid in my mind. The bittersweet part of parenting. I was re-reading some of my earlier blog posts – and I still recall their sweet little voices as if it was yesterday. I often think that when I’m old and dying, that is what I’ll remember as the lights go out. Being a mom is the experience and privilege of a lifetime. And nothing else will ever top it for me.

Paternal Frustrations

My dad went in the hospital about a month ago. When I found him, he was completely disoriented, had no idea where he was, couldn’t speak, had urinary incontinence, and just got done peeing all over the desk. When I initially asked him why he peed on the desk, my brain still hadn’t connected that something was very wrong. I just saw a pool of urine on the desk. Then I started connecting everything very quickly. I thought perhaps he was having a stroke again, and called for my husband and suggested we take him to the hospital. He wanted no part in touching him or moving him. I don’t really blame him since my dad was completely covered in piss. We called 911 and explained his symptoms, and shortly after a team arrived and began running tests on him. My dad has no memory of his time in the hospital until he was being transported to the rehabilitation center a week later.

Several issues were found – respiratory infection, COPD, Cellulitis, low sodium, and possible pneumonia, alcoholism. When he left the hospital, he was in a wheel chair and could barely walk. After three weeks at the rehabilitation center, I was told he was very high-functioning and in great shape. He has been home a week, and right back in the same condition he was in. Coughing non stop. Told me this morning that he couldn’t hold his pee, and had an accident. Yeah, I suggested that you continue using those Depends, but you said you didn’t need them. I’m buying them. And you’re wearing them. I found a fucking water bottle filled with pee, and asked him why it was filled with pee. He said he couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time. The bathroom is 10 feet from the couch. Looks like shit again. Has been stuck on the couch. Not showering. He came home 7 days ago, and has yet to shower. So fucking gross. I just can’t even. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, and I told him he needed to clean up before we went. To include a shower. It isn’t that he is incapable because he was getting A+’s from his occupational and physical therapists saying he was mastering all functions. He has fought me on a nursing home, saying that he lacks freedoms, but that is truly what he needs.

My frustration level is at an all-time high with him. And I have very little patience. Something that is incredibly out-of-character for me. I know he can do all this – self care….he chooses not to. The alcohol takes over. Alcoholism is an awful thing. He gets to a point where all he can focus on is beer. Why not stop giving it to him right? Because I know my father. He will break into my stash of alcohol and drink whatever he can. My goal is to get him into his own place after Christmas – a senior citizen apartment. I’ll bring him his groceries, and take him to doctor’s appointments, but he needs to take care of himself. I realize I don’t care enough about him to put that much into him.

It has been so draining having him here already. My entire family is sacrificing for this guy who was in and out of my life for decades. We’ve given him our family room (800 sq feet) and we are paying for it, not having a play area for my kids. It has caused so much stress. And he acts like it isn’t a big deal. On Thanksgiving, I wanted to punch him. Once he got his food and sat down, he started eating right away before everyone else got food. MANNERS! And then my kids were running down their list of what they were thankful for, we normally have everyone say something, but I opted not to since both of my parents were present. And he just ignored them, and kept on eating. So ignorant. Then he made a comment this weekend, on an incredibly rainy day, about how active and loud my kids were. Yeah, you douchebag. You’re living in their play area. It’s raining and they are bursting with energy. Don’t be ungrateful and complain. I’m eager to get him out of my space. What he chooses to do with it, is up to him. I’ll pay for his electric, cable, and food. He will pay his rent. And then I will wash my hands of being his daily caretaker, and transition to more of a weekly basis.

I know I sound like a miserable daughter, but he wasn’t a good father. He was drunk nearly my entire childhood, disappeared for days at a time on binges, wasn’t present, didn’t care, but was such a nice guy which is an added mind-fuck for a young child. I’m being incredibly gracious, as is my husband, opening my home to this guy. He was in an awful space when we got him in June, being taken advantage of by a person who preys on people for money, completely neglected medically, left without food for days at a time. She is a disgusting excuse for a human being, and I am still working to get her out of his life. I’ve taken over my dad’s finances (which isn’t a lot – just enough for his rent), but it is beneficial as awful lady was still trying to take his money. I’m just ready to get him in his own place and out of mine. I’m miserable.

Family Drama

Back in December of 2013 when I was pregnant with my daughter, there was a huge blow up between my husband and mother. I was caught right in the middle. They both pitted me against each other, put me in horrible situations, and had no regard for the fact that I was first trimester pregnant. I should have cut them both out of my life at that point because I saw the nastiest sides from each of them that I’ve ever seen in my life.

It was the most stressful pregnancy because of both of their actions. They are both similar in the sense that they don’t let go of grudges, and they don’t care who they hurt. They are both incredibly selfish people. And both expect me to take sides and resolve the overall problem. The problem was between them. Not me. I was a by standard pulled in. My husband pulled his own mother in, which made it worse for my mother, and now she hates her forever. As in won’t talk to her or even be in the same room as her. It has embarrassed me beyond belief as I’m asked every time my MIL visits if my mother would be willing to meet with her. I always have the same answer, no, my mother is stubborn and holds grudges for life.

Fast forward to now, nearly 5 years later. The grudge is still in effect. When my MIL visited us last month, my mom refused to be anywhere near her. This puts a damper in day to day operations since we depend on my mother for so much – helping take the kids to school, laundry, taking kids to activities. My husband isn’t the most hands on husband in that sense, so my mom is my go-to for help. It also doesn’t help that my MIL is the exact opposite of my own mother and incredibly hands-off. She feels when she visits, it is a vacation and she doesn’t want to work. Ever. As a matter of fact, all she could talk about was how she couldn’t wait to get back to happy hour with her peeps in Florida. OK. Cool. I don’t get it, don’t relate, but cool. So when MIL was here a few weeks ago, my husband was triggered back to December 2013, and decides he hates my mother again.

This has been fun. He is just totally ignoring her. Only talks with 2-3 word answers to imperative questions about our kids. This has triggered my mother’s own anxiety, which I haven’t seen in years. She has told me how much this is upsetting her, and I’ve let her know it is all linked back to what happened a few years ago. Her blood pressure rises, I have no doubt, I can tell. My mother is turning 70 in a few weeks. Part of me understands my husband’s frustrations with my mother’s bullshit grudges. But then part of me thinks are you trying to give my 70 year old mother a heart attack? Be the bigger person. Please. Do it for me. Do it for the kids. You don’t need to hang out with her. Just acknowledging her when she is in the room with a simple, “Hello, how are you doing” would be nice.

Now I get to hear my mother after every time that my husband ignores her. Good job husband – you win this round! And my own anxiety rises. But he doesn’t give a shit because he has to make his point.

My mother and husband both suck. Sticking to their ways. Stubborn as hell. Not giving a shit about the impact on others.


*Warning – graphic post ahead. Rape trigger. I need to get this off my chest.

I’ve always hoped karma exists, especially since there are so many awful people that get away with awful things. With all this stuff going on in my country with the Supreme Court nomination, I’m watching how it is making so many bad feelings resurface for women everywhere. It is hard to watch. It is even more hard to hear the actual voices of the women when they are on the news. I just watched two women yell at Senator Flake for his confirmation vote. They shared their own experiences, and I heard it all in their voices. It is something I know all too well. I know the sound of fear. The sound of desperation for being treated unfairly and the injustice of the circumstances that they did not ask for. The sound of anxiety and misery. The sound of being broke. And while many women have been able to pull themselves together to keep on with life, this shit stirs up old feelings. It brings them to life. It revitalizes everything experienced in the past. And it is so fucking unfair. Me, too.

I was raped nearly two decades ago. I reported it the next day. I was also in the military serving in the Pacific region. That last sentence says it all. The Pentagon launched an investigation a few years later to review the sexual assault cases that were reported in the Pacific region, and the ridiculous amount that ended up getting dismissed.

I knew my attacker. He always gave me a creepy feeling. There was just something about him that was off. He was cold. And heartless. And he raped me at the end of the night after my own going away party. I had orders to return to the continental US, and would be leaving in just three weeks time. We lived in dorms, and I said I was done for the night. I drank way too much. I take ownership of that and acknowledge my outcome might have been different if I remained in control. But I won’t let that be the reason. He chose to rape me.

He offered to walk me to my room. He wanted to make sure I was safe. I told him I would be ok, but he followed me. Into my room. As I said, I was done. I told him he could leave. I fell on my bed in a state of extreme drunkenness. That was the last thing I remember. I woke up the next day with my pants around my ankles, and I was on my stomach. Something was not right. I was in a lot of pain. It was more than a hangover pain. I looked around the room and saw my roommates facial cleanser bottle next to my bed on the floor. I ran into the bathroom, and when I sat on the toilet, I saw blood. I wiped and there was more blood. It was coming from my anal area, and I was in pain.

I tried my hardest to see if I could remember anything, but saying I was going to sleep and falling on my bed was my last memory. I had a gut-wrenching feeling that I knew what happened. Did he use my roommate’s facial cleanser, thinking it was lotion, as lube? What the fuck happened?

I pulled myself together, drank some water, and went to my friend’s room a few doors down. When she opened the door, I broke down crying and told her I thought I had been raped. Trying to process it all, we talked through the night’s events. We talked through the person I thought it was. We decided that ultimately, I needed to get some medical attention. Another good friend joined us. I had such great friends.

After arriving at the base hospital, I checked in at the nurse’s station and told her I thought I had been raped and wanted to be checked out. She quietly told me to really think about calling it rape because the second it gets written down on the check-in report, the Office of Special Investigation will get called. I said I just want to get checked out, and make sure I’m ok! I don’t want to go through that. I was afraid for many reasons. Would my entire unit know? Would people say I was drunk and agreed to it? Would I be held up in the region and not be allowed to go home?

I reluctantly agreed to it. I felt like it was important that I get checked out. They asked if I wanted the plan B pill. I declined as I was on the pill. They noted it, and made me feel guilty for declining it.  There was a lot of whispering, and very little warmth. My friends stuck by my side the entire time.

Once the investigators had shown up, I realized my leadership team had also been notified. The public humiliation had started. I received word that there were cops with M-16 rifles posted outside of my dorm room. There you go. Everyone knows something is going on. Let the judging begin.

Once the rape kit was approved, it had been determined that sodomy occurred. Now to figure out if there was consent. The investigators treated me like shit. I felt worn and beat down. When I was finally able to return to my room, it had been sifted through by the investigators. I was told that my alleged attacker would be staying in the dorm, and to avoid the 2nd floor where he lived. I walked around with such fear and anxiety, and got to a point where I couldn’t go anywhere alone.

It all went downhill. Everyone knew. Everyone was interviewed. Everyone was asked about my character. I felt like I was wearing a scarlet letter. I won’t lie, I felt like ending my life would be easier than getting through the next few weeks. Especially when they told me I might not be able to go home on schedule. The icing on the cake was probably the day I was waiting for my First Sergeant to get out of the Commander’s meeting so I could discuss the way ahead to go home. The Commander left the conference room door open, and I heard her discussion the sexual assault that occurred over the weekend. As clear as could be, I heard her announce to the entire leadership team what my name was. And then I heard her say to protect the privacy of the accused, she wasn’t going to mention his name. She was very disappointed as he was someone she had been mentoring to go to Officer Training School. Sure, that makes sense.

I nearly lost it. My best friend, who walked with me, was there and also heard it. She was irate, and ready to punch the lady. Our First Sergeant pulled us in his office to calm us down, and said he would speak to her about it, but agreed it was wrong.

I finally got clearance to leave. And I left without looking back. Luckily, my bestie was also leaving the same day, and we flew side by side, drinking beer, all the way home. It was a bittersweet ending.

After a rollercoaster of emotions that summer, I finally made it to my follow on base. I got myself in counseling, but quickly realized the military couldn’t help me and I made an appointment at a local Rape Crisis Center. The support there was overwhelmingly better. This is where I started my road to recovery.

After making many inquiries with the legal team, I was finally given a very short answer that the case had been closed due to insufficient evidence. I was devastated. To describe what I went through after everything that happened is difficult. But I heard the same pain today in the voices of the women addressing Senator Flake. I ended up leaving the military three years after it happened. I grew resentful of the system and it was hard for me to stay in.

To get to my point about karma. I followed my rapist online from time to time, so I knew his location. I wanted to make sure he was never near me. It had been a few years since I checked, but I knew his state, that he was married with kids, and still in the military. What I discovered recently has just made me ponder karma. I found out that his marriage fell apart in a major way. He had a public breakdown on Facebook. Life ensued. I believe he was discharged from the military. He was broke. He became homeless. He became bitter at the world via Facebook. He went missing for a bit. The police were looking for him. His own family publicly calling him out for being a piece of shit, and telling him to turn himself in to the police. After doing some research, I discovered he had a few misdemeanors – domestic assaults. The last one was a felony assault. And his estranged wife sought a restraining order against him. And I believe he is in jail now – hopefully in his own personal hell.

I finally came to a point in life where I was able to accept what happened to me. And move on. I had to move on. If I didn’t allow that to happen, I would be trapped in my own mind forever. Not in a good way. I’ve never been able to really share my entire story outside of the investigation done by the Pentagon. Being raped does a number on your emotional state. I finally found happiness. But I can’t lie – with everything going on as it is, well, my pot has been stirred.

This is the first time I’m getting this off my chest. I haven’t told my husband or my best friends. I feel as if I should just let karma do it’s magic. Part of me has wanted to scream it to the world. HE WAS HOMELESS AND IN JAIL! YASSSS! But then part of me knows that for that bad to happen, he has hurt some other people. And that makes me sad and angry for them. And angry at the way it was handled by the military at the time. Perhaps this could have been prevented. While I get some satisfaction knowing his current situation, it isn’t a happy satisfaction. So karma. I think it is out there. But it comes with strings attached.


Haven’t updated in a bit. Back to school happened, and I’m still cleaning up my dad’s piss. I AM going to have a conversation with him tomorrow about buying some Depends though because he has a serious bladder issue. I will obviously be sensitive in my approach, but I’m over it already. I’m also going to schedule him an appointment at the eye doctor because his aim. God, his aim. No depth perception at all.



WTF Husband?!

My husband is borderline narcissistic. He is very much about himself, and rarely considers any consequence beyond what he is thinking about. This applies to any events he wants to go to, trips, purchases – he is all very spur of the moment when he sees something shiny in front of him. This month he is traveling overseas for 8 days to see a concert and visit some family. Then he goes south for a week long work conference, immediately followed by a trip to Texas for a bachelor party. There will be two 10 day time spans that we won’t see him.  The weekend following the bachelor party, we have an out-of-state wedding that we’re attending. The bride and groom are SUPER nice people. We’re just not that close with them in my opinion. I was kind of surprised that my husband got invited to the bachelor party, but figured it was because he is friends with someone that is in the wedding. So this will be two weekends in a row that he will miss coaching our son’s baseball team. When it impacts my schedule and my kids’ schedule, I start to get annoyed. Annoyance has kicked in.

I was glad when I saw the wedding was on a Sunday. Perfect. We can fly in late Saturday, and out Monday morning, all while coaching the game on Saturday. Of course, he asked me if I wanted to drive because his friends were trying to convince him to drive. OF COURSE THEY ARE! WE HAVE AN EIGHT PASSENGER SUV! It will be *so nice* for them to travel for free. No. It’s a 10.5 hour trip each way – nearly 24 hours of driving. Not going to happen. He was just complaining to me that he was done driving to my home state, 7 hours away. So we sure as fuck aren’t going to drive 24 hours to accommodate his pals. Besides it is a 1.5 hour flight. YESSSS! My time is too valuable to spend an entire day traveling. Of course he starts complaining to me that we need to fly in on Friday or early Saturday because surely everyone will be doing something on Saturday night. I said maybe a rehearsal dinner? That we won’t be invited to. Plus it isn’t like we’re arriving at midnight. We get in at 8:30. Still a reasonable time to socialize if people are out doing things. I told him HE committed to coaching our son’s team, and it is unacceptable to miss as many games/practices as he will be. The LEAST he can do is work with me on this one fucking weekend.

I’ve been married to him for over 12 years now, and love him tremedously. This is nothing new, and it comes in waves. This particular wave is just coming at a really crappy time.


Eff this Sunday

I’m usually prepared for my week by Sunday evening and like to just relax. I was super proud of myself today because I had all of my back-to-school stuff done. Ready for that. Most of my work stuff was good to go. The only thing I was slacking on is my college class, of course. I figured I would take the last few hours of my night to knock out my weekly assignments. I went to log in, and it wouldn’t let me. Awesome. I’ll have to call to set the security features on my account and reset the password – on Monday morning, where all my assignments will be officially late. Totally my own fault. I’m annoyed with myself.

Of course, I ate a snack to make myself feel better. I started out with some vanilla flavored Greek yogurt, and decided to add a little honey to sweeten it up. Then I noticed the mini blueberry muffins on the counter, and thought that would probably make a delicious addition and went ahead with creating the crumble. I couldn’t stop there though as I realized it needed some texture and went with the vanilla almond granola. Oh my God! What started out as a healthy snack turned into crazy sugary binge! I’m ridiculous.

Then I realized I hadn’t read a few emails that came in this weekend, and played catch up only to discover that one of my customers is stirring up some stuff that I need to take to my management team. It is 100% out of my control, and I will leave it at that.

But damn it! Eff this Sunday.


Over Achiever – Sometimes Slacker

I always take on too much. Then I regret it. But I get pumped up before I take things on, and tell myself: YOU CAN DO IT. But can I? Can I really do it all? Not normally. Something slacks. Whether it is my career, housework, not reading enough with my kids, not playing enough with my kids, not cooking deliciously, healthy meals for my family, laundry, being a good daughter, college courses, or my sex life with my husband. Because God only knows at the end of the day, when I’ve “done it all”, I’m exhausted. And I end up not doing it all and sucking (not literally this time) in the wife department.

Let me tell you what I’m up to this semi-quarter (I break my life up into 2.5 month periods because it aligns best with my college semesters and my kids’ baseball seasons.

  • Career – we are doing some serious stuff this quarter with my customer. We’re moving them to the cloud. And by them, I mean 250,000 users. It is all going to fall on me to be a success, and if it doesn’t measure up to be successful, I can probably kiss my job goodbye. So definitely busy there. I was also nominated for a two year leadership program in my company. I don’t know if I “won” yet, but I’ll find out soon. And if I did win, I’ll be busy AF.
  • Baseball Mom – not only are all three of my children signed up for Little League, but they are in different divisions. That’s three or more practices per week, and three or more games per week. Oh, and I’m also managing one of the teams with my husband coaching. This only lasts 2.5 months.
  • College – I’ve gone very far in my career without my degree. While I have 150 college credits to my name thanks to my inability to settle down with a major, none of them add up to a bachelor’s degree. Need to knock that out. I’m to the point now where I need that little degree to move up any more. And I’m sick of my lifetime college student status. So I enrolled in an online class starting….whoops yesterday. Need to get going with it.
  • Back-to-school – I’m an active PTA member. They love me even more since they discovered that for every hour of my time that I volunteer, they get $25. My company is amazing. See first bullet where I need my project to go well, as I don’t want to lose my job. I’ve got three kids, going to two different schools. Lots to do. Thanks to KidBox and KidPik for doing my school shopping. Once less thing to worry about. But you know all the back to school hoopla, plus getting in a chaotic routine to get everyone out the door on-time. It just sucks.
  • Paternal – see my previous entry on my dad moving in, and to our state. SO.MUCH.TO.DO.WITH.HIS.MEDICAL.CARE.
  • Maternal – lucky my mom lives around the corner, is retired, and fully capable of helping out. She doesn’t require much other than some financial help and the occasional box of wine.
  • Other Extracurricular Activities – I know. Maybe I should limit what my children do. Tell the to pick ONE activity for the quarter, and that will be it. But I like staying active with my kids. So it is entirely my own fault. My oldest takes hip hop dance lessons that start in Sept and go until June when they have their recital. Luckily, I’ve scheduled that on a Thursday afternoon after school, so my mom can help. He has also developed a love for art, and we found a place that does weekly art lessons for his age group. I want to run with this, so we are. My middle child is musically gifted, and takes guitar lessons. Luckily, we have someone that comes to us for his weekly lesson. So not terribly difficult to manage. He does practice every single day though. You’ve got to when you are that good! Then there is my baby girl. She has been taking ballet and tap since she was two, but has decided she would like to try her hand at hip hop. She is going to be amazing. She has so much sass and energy. It will be great for her.
  • Reading – Always on our to-do list. And with different reading levels, I need to stay on top of this otherwise one of my kids will be a pro at reading, and the others won’t.
  • Orange Theory Fitness – it is my go-to for my health and sanity. I try for 3-4 days a week. Some weeks, I only make it once. Progress not perfection.
  • Additional Crap – my husband is out of town over half the month of September.

I can’t even enjoy wine when I have this packed of a schedule. I know, I sound like a privileged person complaining. I AM very fortunate that I have the means to do all of this. I’ve worked hard for it, and was no means handed any of it. I come from a lower-income/class family and community, and had a less than desirable childhood. I got out by joining the military, and I worked my way up from the moment I could escape my past life.  I give back in many ways – time and money. And I teach my children to do the same. But when I type it all out, I feel the need to put that disclaimer because, YES, I know. I have a great life and there are many less fortunate people in this world. The chaos is only a season.


I’ve been on vacation, hence the silence. We went up north, and stayed at my favorite childhood spot. My kids had a blast. My husband ran out of green, and became moody. He gets anxiety, and then I get anxiety when that happens, but I mostly had fun.

We also picked up my father, who has been in an awful situation for quite some time. He was living with his ex-girlfriend. They haven’t been together in a few years, but continued to live together in some weird arrangement. My dad is nearly 72, and she is 46. And insane. I’m fairly certain she is a pathological liar. When I was home last year for my father’s surgery, she and I had to sit in the waiting room and make small talk for the few hours that the procedure took. She told me that she was just offered a job working for Hilton Hotels in New York City, and that she put a deposit down on an apartment in upper Manhattan. Are you kidding me?! If you knew this person, you would know she is neither getting job offers for Hilton, nor does she have money to live in upper Manhattan.

Anyhow, to make an incredibly sad story short, his ex-girlfriend has a new fiancé who introduced her to heroin. Not because she is in pain and has no other means to cope, but for fun. So now they, my dad’s ex and new fiancé, hang out in the bathroom all morning long as they are too fucked up to leave until early afternoon. Once they come out of their heroin-induced state, they drive to the fiancé’s  house, and sometimes won’t return for weeks. I’m fairly certain they’ve been abusing my dad, emotionally and physically, and they have been taking all his money, which isn’t a lot. He gets social security and a small pension payment. He is by no means “well off”, but in their eyes he has enough to pay their mortgage, along with some extra for utilities, food, and heroin. It has been sickening to see, and they give my dad enough attention to make him feel as if they care. But they don’t. I recently bought my dad $300 worth of new clothing, and he told me the fiancé took it all for himself as it fit him. When we got my dad, he was wearing the clothes the hospital game him when he was there a few months back for his mini-stroke. Absolutely unreal. My husband went to pick him up as he didn’t want me even going to the house. He said it looked like a murder scene inside, and was equally creepy on the outside.

That chapter is over. My dad told me he didn’t get all his clothes, and might need to go back. I told him absolutely not. I would buy him whatever he needed. He is never going back there.

On a different note, it is going to be challenging to get through this transition. My dad is blind in one eye. He recently had a mini stroke. He has trouble walking. He has horrible aim when he goes to the bathroom. And his pants and underpants often slide down his backside giving everyone in my home a nice shot of his rear as he likes to stand in my kitchen and lean on the counter for long periods of time. I’m working on making my basement a more comfortable place for him so he doesn’t need to be hanging out in our space all the time. I don’t mind sometimes, just not all the time. Things on my list are a television for his room, some TV trays so he can eat on the couch in the basement, a mini-fridge for his beer, and maybe a K-cup coffee maker. Still trying to determine if he is able to live on his own, or if this is a forever-with-us kind of thing.

Either way, I’m glad he is out of the situation he was in even if that means I need to clean up his piss off my bathroom floor.

Excuse my language

In a technology planning meeting today, and I’m the only female in attendance. I’m okay with this. I’m actually used to this. And it isn’t even a thing. Until we’re all shooting the shit, and someone drops the F-bomb. There is instant regret and apologies directed right at me for use of such a foul word. I just don’t get it. You’re okay with using that word in the first place at work around your peers, so fucking own it! Don’t say it and then give me an apology. You don’t mean it anyways because if you were really afraid I’d be offended, then you wouldn’t say it to begin with. Ugh.