Thursday, August 30, 2012

Sex, Ladders, and Simplification

"Guy friends are the best. When they throw you a slick pick up line they will let you hit them while they laugh."  - Me

Yeah, but they mean the pickup line. They are testing the sex waters in which they hope to swim. -Stephen

Ha, perhaps in a few cases, but my guy friends know that they are just standing on the shore. That's why it's fun. - Me

In order to prove his point, Stephen shared the Ladder Theory with me. Basically, this theory states that men want to sleep with all women, therefore, they place women on a ladder based on their level of desire to bone her. All women make the ladder, though some cling to the bottom rung. Depending on the woman's appearance and level of willingness, she moves up or down the ladder. This effectively ends any chance of a woman having a heterosexual male as a non-sexual friend.

Women, on the other hand, only care about appearance and money. We might claim to care about other things, but we really don't. Also, women have two ladders. One is the good ladder, where we place men we'd like to have sex with. The other ladder is for "just friends". We place men on either one or the other, no exceptions. Ladder jumping is a very rare occurrence if it even exists. Women are also deceptive and will lead men to believe they have been placed on the good ladder, even when there isn't a snow ball's chance in hell of that ever happening. While slightly more complicated than the male, single-ladder setup, it's still fairly simplistic in design. 

My head was swimming with all the information I'd absorbed (not really) so I decided I should take a few moments to discuss it with my trusted associates. Is it all really that simple? Here are a few things my advisers feel should be noted.

Men's comments:
1. Play the emotions. Weddings, funerals, life tragedies... these are all opportune times for men to try to make the jump. "At weddings there is always one girl crying in the bathroom who drank too much, feels fat, or isn't loved. Then it's just nice shoes. Let's f*ck. Come on, let's fuck it off." - The 3 H's (Haynes-Hicks-Horton... or as they prefer to be called, Happy-Horny-Hold'er Down.) 

In this case I was told to think Wedding Crashers. "Perhaps play a little game called just the tip, just for a second, just to see how it feels."

2. "If you don't know which ladder you're on, you're on the friends ladder." -Troy 

I have to agree with Troy on this one. If I have placed a man on the good ladder, he will not have to wonder about it. I think this is what makes it very difficult to understand when a I hear a man complain that he doesn't know where he stands. Women might not verbally say, "I'm never going to sleep with you", but the words are being spoken loud and clear anyway (usually - gold diggers and opportunists are the exception here).

Women's comments:
1. We actually do care about personality. It doesn't matter what you look like or how much you make if you are a douche. A great smile might get you dinner, but you won't even get to first base if that's all you have in your arsenal. 

2. All men go on the friend ladder first. Jumping is more frequent than you know, in both directions. 

3. There is a third ladder men like to pretend doesn't exist. "I do agree that men only have a single ladder.  But I disagree that women only have 2 ladders, there is the very important 3rd ladder which consists of “done him – did that”.  On the 3rd ladder are men you have had sex with, and would rather have your legs grafted together than to even consider a second go round.  The men on this ladder proved themselves so rotten in bed, having neither talent, or the ability to learn basic skills.  He is so bad that you would consider sending a card of sympathy to anyone he is dating.  You can not keep him on as a Lover and he disgusts you so much that there is no possibility of friendship." - Dawn 

I would like to add to this that completely asinine behavior will move you right to the unspeakable 3rd ladder.

After getting such great feedback from my office pros I felt it was only right to reach out to my readers. How do YOU Ladder? 

Over to you! 

Monday, August 27, 2012

A Friend in Need: It's Guestgasmic

I've not been blessed with a guest blogger since Becca and I swapped up blogs a few months back. When a friend approached me about allowing an anonymous post on my site, I was a little concerned at first. What if it were someone who wanted to jump onto my site and post pictures of their nether regions? How could I effectively prevent my gentler readers from the sight of bare flesh? Would it be okay for me to save those pictures for my own viewing pleasure? The questions stacked up. 

My friend put my mind at ease when he explained that he would write the post, open for all comments, looking for some undiscovered wisdom, and all I would need to do is reach out to my peeps for a little feedback. I breathed a sigh of relief. I just have to be the hostess? What will I serve? Is this a tea cake function? Home made stone fired pizza? Cocktails or coffee? Oh... just post the damned thing? Right then, no need to get snippy. Don't bitch later when you're hungry or thirsty! 

Without further ado, I bring you our Guest Post! (Please note that there is back history available on this post available via the link at the beginning of our Guest Post)

My story doesn't start with a little post that a friend posted. My marriage is the Titanic right now and instead of trying to find a lifeboat, I stand paralyzed on deck hoping that the unsinkable will stay afloat. I heard the promises made and I believed them. Instead of bogging down her blog with my cries in the wilderness, I've decided to spread the love a little bit, because friends are all around me to comfort me and help me. Which brings me to the topic of friends.
I love them all. I've got a great collection of friends in both the blogging world as well as in real life. I have female friends and male friends, diverse ages and ethnicities and backgrounds. I can say about all of them that they feel they have my best interests at heart every day and every time we talk. There isn't a self serving individual among them.
But to whom should I listen?
There are those who would wish for my marriage to be saved. My church friends for the most part understand my desire to make it work. They say I can forgive and seek forgiveness and save the marriage. The dishonesty and deception are almost harder to deal with than anything else. They can't envision that I would need to be a jerk in any way. They feel that God will just fix it.
There are other friends who tell me that she has made her bed. She should just get out. I shouldn't make it easy on her. I should metaphorically lay the hammer down. These fierce friends are also those that would be the first to accept her if she came back.
There are those that feel I am being clingy and that women don't like to be fought for in that way. I understand that every emotion I show to her will likely push her further away. This is a hard thing to realize.
I'm trying to understand her and there are those that say women say they want a sensitive man, but they really don't. I should say what I mean and be a rock, unwavering in my convictions.
I am nothing like a rock.
I see a scared, hurt woman who made a bad decision or three. I see the young girl I knew so long ago in the overalls with the eyebrows and the dance moves. I see the mother of my children. I see the wilder side with a bottle of wine.
But then...
I see that every kind overture from me cuts her like a knife. The more I fight for her, the more I push her away.
Every kind word is a reminder of kinder words spoken too long ago. The more I say, the more ammunition she has to rebut.
Is she taking advantage of the history that she likely remembers far better than I do. Am I being lead around this dance floor?
I decided I wanted to offer stability to the kids, so I decided I wasn't moving back out once I came home. I wanted to be in my home, with my kids, the place where my marriage lived and she merely had to choose it. She took up residence down the hall but has decided it cannot be over quickly enough. She says I am using the children, but that I have to explain why mommy can't stay.
Every fiber in me knows that by making her make that awful choice I am steering her back. I don't want he to have to come back, I don't want her to need to come back. I want her to want to come back. I know she needs to make an even more terrible mistake before she is ever going to see what she had.
I'm sure that you've got an opinion, Feel free to join the others. Lifeboats to the left, end of the world party to the right.

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Pity... Party of One? Your table is ready.

When someone asks me what's on my mind, I'm usually pretty glib. I'll throw out some basic concern we all have, mention that I'm considering a part time gig as a prostitute, then give a serious look and mention that I'm one house repair away from sticking my head in the oven to end it all, if the gas hasn't already been turned off that is. Of course I follow that up with a smile just to reassure them that I am safe to be left alone and don't need to be protected from myself.

Do you know what sucks about telling someone what's going on inside your head? The cheery cliches that spew from their well intending mouths, "It will get better. Stay strong. Chin up. At least you have your health.  Things could always be worse."  I fucking hate that last sentence the most. Is it true? Yes. Does that fix things? No, it does not fix things, but that one sentence is what keeps me from telling people what's really going on inside my mind.

Sure, I have moments of light. I laugh. I enjoy the company of my co-workers and friends. My family loves me and my kids are healthy. I don't live in a 3rd world country. Our water isn't polluted. There's food on the table. People around the world have real tragedies. There are people starving, facing natural disasters, losing loved ones, and suffering terribly. I'm not. I'll put this out here right now, for anyone reading who is thinking it, "Well at least you're not pregnant/sick/homeless/jobless/etc." Yes, I get it.

A loved one said recently, "Look at how strong you are and all you've accomplished!" I smiled and thanked them, but in my head I was thinking, "Why, yes now that you mention it... This mountain of debt I have built is quite impressive, isn't it? Yes, quite. Do you know what I think I'll do? First I'm going to fashion a flag out of a scarf and stitch my family crest on it. Correction, first I'm going to find out what our crest is, THEN I'll fashion a flag. Next I am going to get my low oxygen cold weather gear and I am going to scale that bitch! I am going all the way to the top of it and I'm planting my flag to claim it forever and always as Mt. Angie! While I'm up there, the "Magically Fix It All Fairy will get me a pay raise and fix the stuff around the house I don't know how to repair. It will be a grand adventure. Grand I say!"

This is how James does it. Don't do it like James.
Tonight someone I love asked me the question I dread. "What's on your mind?" I started to let it out, when it became abundantly clear that it wasn't a financial thing. It's an every thing. His suggestion? "Do something for yourself." To which I could only manage, "I'm tired of doing everything for myself." Then I bawled like a baby for a solid 10 minutes. I couldn't even eat my damned pita. Crying screws up your taste buds and they put too much Caesar dressing on EXACTLY as I had told them not to. So I cried a little more. What started out as pretty crying devolved into full on Van Der Beek Bawl. It was not pretty. Not pretty at all.  It was an all out pity party of one, minus any good food or booze.

I'm tired of being the conductor of this train wreck. I don't mind being the one holding the bag at the end of the day, but it would be nice if, somewhere between the office and bed, someone would say, "Hey that looks heavy. Can I take it off your hands for a little bit?"  Then I realized that's what, "What's on your mind?" is about. It's about letting someone hold the bag for a little bit. It's about being unburdened for a moment. It's about resting your arms so you can pick it up again the next day and soldier on.

Let's face it. It still sucks balls and I'm still going to cry about it because it's my party and I'll cry if I want to... but things could always be worse.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

The Best Laid Plans: I'm behind on my marriages

Kari: I can't believe it's been 12 years since you got divorced. 

Me: And no one wants to marry me you mean? I know! I am marriage material dammit! What?! I AM!!! I should have a few divorces under my belt by now! I am such a failure! (cork popped, wine pouring) 

Can I be honest with you? I really had planned to be married again by now. I'm not keeping score or anything....but the score is: 
Me - 1 
EveryGodDamnedOneElse - 2 or more 

Okay, okay, not everyone is on marriage 2 or better. Some aren't even on one. Some don't care. Some do, but pretend they don't. Some will stop at nothing to change the status of their tax filing. Me? Given this 12 year gap in marking the married box, I don't think about it all that much. Maybe a little. A little more than I should. (sobbing) I am supposed to be on marriage two of three dammit! Here's how I pictured it going down:

Marriage One: The Love Marriage (young, dumb, and unstoppable)
There isn't anything anyone can tell you to make you change your mind. He's got a prison record? So what? He's cheated on you? It's okay. Major drug problem? Totally fixable. You're getting married because you're in love. ~swoon~ F*ck what everyone says! They don't know you! 
I'll spare you the statistics here. We all know how scary the numbers are. You can make cute babies with Marriage One, but chances of staying together are slim. 

Marriage Two: The Money Marriage (practicality prevails)
You've been divorced awhile now and you know what's important. Paying your bills is important. Not wondering every month where you'll get grocery money is important. Being able to put shoes on your kids is important. This is the time to find husband two; the money maker. This guy is practical. It's best to make sure he's also likable, because you need to keep him around. You're not due for the next husband until much later in life. Choose wisely. You're going to be going through your sexual peak during this phase and having someone to share that joy with is important. 
Statistically, second marriages have an even higher failure rate than the first. This husband could leave you for someone younger or maybe even work himself into an early grave. You just never know. 

Marriage Three: The Companionship Marriage (I don't want to die alone)
While love is grand and money is handy, marriage three is about something more akin to grabbing hold of the flotsam as the Titanic of life slow slips into the depths. There you are, laying all still, holding Jack's hand (because he's the man and therefore deserves to freeze to death), clinging... because you don't want to face the cold night in the water, or in this case your golden years, alone. You want someone who can watch the same shows on TV that you do, or shut the hell up if he doesn't like them, or better yet... goes in another room entirely. Marriage Three takes you to church, if you do that sort of thing. He probably whittles wood on the front porch. You will probably have separate bedrooms because he snores. Make sure he is okay with holding your wicker purse when you're at the craft show. 
We don't need statistics for this one. You're probably going to outlive him, but by that time you won't care too much. You'll be really cantankerous and most people won't want to be around you anyway. You can now go back to watching Wheel of Fortune and tending your growing collection of stray cats, dogs, birds, or whatever creature you've been allowing in the house. 

These aren't hard and fast rules, just guidelines. My way isn't the right way for everyone. I'm certain some of you have perfectly lovely first marriages. I'm also quite sure one or two of you isn't collecting furry creatures for company.  However, I'm getting up there in age. I'm going to have to hurry up if I am going to get all three worked in before the big dirt nap. 

Friday, August 17, 2012

Keep Your Romance Out of My Bedroom

Thanks to Scott over at It's MY Mind! for the heads up about  Dude WriteDudettes: The X Factor, this week ! I tend to be a bit of a Guy's Girl, so it seemed like as good a place as any to get my guy hangout time.  Stop over and check out the contestants and vote for your faves! 

I asked a guy friend for a topic today, hoping to get a peek inside the mind of a man. His suggestion, not too surprisingly, was a discussion about the differences between men and women. This is a topic that rolls around in my brain on a daily basis, so not a problem! No matter what my relationship status is at the time, I'm always trying to figure men out. Why do they do what they do, think what they think, and seem incapable of understanding the little things?

"How do you merge the sexual male ego with the romantic female need? Do men and women need separate date nights?" he asked. 

I asked for a little clarification, and when he answered I choked back my laughter. "Men need to have sex to feel loved. Women need to feel loved after sex." he said. 

For a moment I dug through my mental purse and fished for my Wo-man Card. "Huh? After sex I just want to sleep... or shop." I replied. I'd almost lost my card, but snatched it back at the last moment. 

Who in the hell told men that women need romance in their sex lives? Flowers, candy, diamonds, candles, and scented oils are always nice. However, none of those things make me want to have sex. Keep in mind that I wouldn't turn those things down any sooner than the guys I've dated would turn down a gift with an engine, electronics, a juicy steak, or tickets to watch their favorite team play.  

Most women I know will tell you that romance and sex do not usually go hand in hand. Some will even tell you that romance does not belong in the bedroom. Romance is that thing couples do before the sex. It's the small note before work. It's the call at noon to say "I love you". It's the hug in the kitchen when you're cleaning up at the end of the day. Romance can even be cooking him that perfect meal he loves, or buying her those white roses (make a note) that she makes last for 2 weeks. 

Do you know what makes me want to have sex? Attraction and hormones. Presents don't make me want to take off my pants. Do you know who needs a present to have sex? Hookers. If you feel you have to buy me a present to coerce me into having sex with you, you might as well just give me the cash. You probably don't know what flowers I like anyway. 

So I pose this question to you, dear readers: 

Who is responsible for this continued notion that women need presents and romantic love to feel sexual? Is it that men cannot accept that women are sexual creatures? Do women perpetuate the idea? Who can we blame? Let's pick someone who isn't here. I find that to be the easiest way. 

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Shit I'd Rather Forget

We all have them: First names, last names, favorites, pet peeves, and shit we've done we'd rather forget. I've had 2 last names now, a few favorites, multiple pet peeves, and countless things that fall under 'shit I'd rather forget'. I'm not talking about the random stuff. I mean things that you really wish you could erase from your memory and your person for eternity.

I like to tell myself little lies all the time. Things like, "Oh, it might have turned out badly, but it led me to ____." You can put a positive spin on anything and make it seem like a blessing if you try. Someone near to you died of Mad Cow Disease? Well now you know the symptoms and at least you can plan a few weeks in advance for the outcome. "Well sure Bob caught Creutzfeldt-Jakob (Mad Cow), but at least I know what's coming for me and I can buy additional life insurance!" Try pasting on that happy face when someone tells you that you both ate from the same contaminated meat! It's the prettiest form of bullshit.

Personally, I have a lot more irritating stuff that I wish I could erase from my history. I would name them, but that might seem rude to those who have the same name. Some of them, of course, don't have the names of people, but bear the events or actions I wish I could undo. I won't go into a lot of detail here, because I'm sure everyone has done something or said something to someone they wish they could take back. Unfortunately, life isn't like that. Once you've done it you can't undo it. It's a permanent scar. Finito!

Some things aren't as cut and dried. From time to time we do things that seem unimportant at the time and later in life we're faced with those decisions and we just think, "What the ____ was I thinking?!" or "Did I really?" In the ugly light of day... or decade... we're faced with the ugly truth. "Yes, it appears I did."

During a recent physical examination, the attending physician did a body map of my scars, moles, piercings, tattoos, etc. I sat through the pre-exam process answering questions with the standard, "Yes. No. Both sides twice. 1998. 1999. 2011. No, never." I giggled when asked all of the sex questions simply because I'm a Midwest girl at heart who can't imagine answering yes to any of the standard blood test questions. I did my jumping jacks. I ran on the treadmill. I got a full workup.

When the physical inspection started I was all cool. I'd answered all the questions. My eyes were good, my nose, unstuffed, throat clear, ears only pierced... twice?

"On your physical map you marked two piercings on each ear lobe. I see three on each lobe. Do you remember getting a third piercing?" the doctor said.

"What? I've never worn more than 2 sets of earrings. I don't have three piercings... unless you count my nose. Do you mean my nose?" I replied.

"No we've not gotten to your nose, but maybe I should check because you definitely have three in each lobe on your ears. Maybe you forgot other things, as well. We'll get to that. Do you remember piercing your ears a third time?" he answered.

"Well it was the 90s. Who knows?" I said with a half laugh, all the time wondering how in the hell I might have forgotten turning someone lose on my earlobes with a gun and something sharp. No. Freaking. Clue.

The doctor was NOT amused. Following this little lapse in memory, the man proceeded to check every single thing I'd marked on my physical map. Moles, tats, piercings, scars, obvious bruises, etc. while I lay there feeling more than a little ashamed. Oddly enough the 90s represent the time during my legal drinking age when I drank the least. I couldn't even blame my choices on binge drinking.

As the doc examined my tattoos and further documented them for my chart, he began to note the amount of colors used in the dolphin tat.

"You have a tattoo on the back of your neck. It's a triangle. What is that?" he said.

"Oh crap, sorry. It's a trinity symbol. Reno. 2010." I answered. Easily forgotten. It's under my hair and I never see it.

"About when did you get the dolphin tattoo? What is that symbol beneath the wave?" he questioned.

"During a phase of stupidity, and the mark beneath the wave is one of poor decision making." I joked.

"Really, I need to chart this. Is that a star or a water drop?" he responded.

"I don't know." I replied and shut up, embarrassed to even be there now.

"I'll call it a star. Okay, now back to the piercings, do you have any other marks or scars that you don't recall receiving intentionally?" he asked.

"Aside from the internal and emotional ones?" I laughed again, trying to alleviate the feeling of incompetence that comes from not knowing the basics of my own body.

"Were you in accident or did you have surgery performed that would cause internal scarring?" came his response.

"No." (huge sigh)

So aside from all the relationships I wish I had avoided, the things I wish I hadn't said, the letters/emails I wish I hadn't sent, and the crappy days I wish I hadn't experienced... there are apparently things I've done to my body that I probably shouldn't have done. If they were so important I probably would have remembered them.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

For All My Alpha Females

It's been said that while a man may be the head of the family, the woman is the neck that turns the head.  If you've ever met the female side of my family (my mother's side tends to be densely populated with women), you'll notice a very dominant trait. No, it's not boobs, though they do seem to get pretty high rankings on the dominance scale. Okay, first you'll notice boobs, but AFTER that you'll see something very astounding; The alpha factor. 

Some time ago I wrote about the women in my family in, Raising a Glass to Strong Women. I talked about my grandmothers and my own mother, but a few things this past week have really opened my eyes to how capable and strong all the women in my family are. Last weekend I had the pleasure of spending time with my mom and her two sisters. Though I've known these women my entire life, I begin to understand them more as the years pass. It's amazing the things you can learn on a simple walk to the shops. 

My aunt Charlotte was my surrogate mother of the summer, is mother to my trio of sister/cousins, and the rock of her family. She's always appeared to me to be the strongest of the women, perhaps because I never saw her cry. Trust me, we gave her plenty of chances and reasons. She was a disciplinarian extraordinaire, yet she knew how to choose her battles. She taught me to be able to laugh at myself and reinforced the lessons my own mother taught me. The difference being that my mother would watch me fumble and quietly, through pursed lips, explain that I would learn from my mistakes. Charlotte would flat out say, "Well that was stupid. I bet you won't be doing that again." I still have the scar from playing with that damned straight razor.

As I see her now, retired yet never retiring, helping her husband through his battle with cancer, and dare I say, mellowing with age I can look back and see that she is truly the backbone of her family. Her ability to stand up for herself is inspiring, and something I wish I had mastered much earlier in life. Her daughters reflect that sense of strength. That same strength has been passed to each of them, and though each have mastered a different aspect of it, all three have realized their inescapable fate as strong Saunders women. 

Sue, the youngest of my mother's sisters was always the one I dreamed of growing up to follow in the footsteps of. She moved away. So I got that part right! I remember always thinking how glamorous her life must be. I found out when she visited how close to the truth I was! She worked in the world of fashion, had college education, and a beautiful home. With a ready smile and quiet strength, she has managed to raise two intelligent and talented sons. We can't fault her for not having girls. 

Today you will find her selling electronics, and repeatedly assuring male customers that women can indeed know their way around that market. Her adventurous spirit continues to this day as she and her husband plan for a move across country, something new for that generation of my family. Striking out, unafraid of change, and embracing a new chapter in her life. I still want to be a bit more like her! 

More than I've ever wanted to be like either of my aunts, it's my own mother who I wish to be like the most. I've written her story many times, and as much as I try, I still fall short. Perhaps with time? Perhaps with age? Regardless, I need only look to my sisters to see the impact of being raised by one of these power house alpha females, super heroes in their own right. 

There is not a blonde or brunette sister in the bunch who hasn't proven their ability to juggle career, home, and family... and not without a fair share of obstacles I might add. All of them are intelligent, self-possessed women who can weather any storm, and tackle any project, and do it all with love. I should mention I also have a very strong brother who is a very manly man, incredible dad, and loving husband who learned to appreciate a strong woman. He had to get that from somewhere! ;) 

I can see little bits of each of the women in my family in me and  feel blessed to know them all. So here's to Zona, Charlotte, Nancy, Susan, Denise, Dena, Carissa, Linette, Beckie, Christy, and Jeana and the men who's heads they turn. 

Friday, August 3, 2012

The Case of the Sexy Assistant

I remember it as if it were yesterday, though to be honest it was the day before. As I sat at my desk, lamenting the woes of a single woman struggling to make ends meet, the unmistakable ping from my Outlook drew my attention back to the task at hand. Little did I know that it would be this very email that would change my life forever, or for the next few minutes. Something like that.

Many of you will be familiar with the sort of email this was intended to be. It was a warning of sorts, the type that is meant to make you aware of a threat that directly targets a person such as yourself. In this case, it was a heads up that something nefarious was afoot on Craigslist, and not just ANY Craigslist, the one that bears the location of Sioux Falls. Yes, right here in River City. With a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for... wait, no that's the wrong song. Anyway, it was a local ad. The subject line read, "This is a scary ad." Dah dah dahhhh.

Looking to hire Executive Administrative Assistant
Looking for a vivacious and intelligent person who is self motivated and goal oriented.


I read it. I reread it. I passed it on to Michelle. I passed it on to David. I accused my boss of secretly looking to replace me. Then I browsed my pictures folder on my computer for one of me wearing something particularly sexy. No luck.

Truthfully, I understand what the outrage might be from a female standpoint. I'm not naive in the ways of the world. We've worked very hard to be respected for our capabilities and not the size of our bra cups. It's been a long and winding road we've been made to travel. The nerve! I swear! How dare someone post an ad like this filled with... honesty!?

Before I began working for the company I am currently with, I worked for a man who ogled me, made sexual comments to/about me, asked me to beat him with a stick, and acted completely inappropriately. Not once did I make any extra money for it. NOT ONCE! While many women would chastise me for not being shocked and appalled by this posting, I have to say that I'm rather the opposite. I'm impressed as hell.

At least if you took a job for this person you would know exactly what was expected of you. No where in the ad does it say that you'll be required to perform sexual deeds or that you must allow groping. It simply says exactly what is required. Be sexy, take care of yourself and look good, be willing to be the center of attention, and be flirted with. Oh, also, know how to use Microsoft Office. Which I do, by the way. Plus, 3 weeks vacation and 401K? SUH-WEEEEET!

So I forwarded the email on to our Denver office to show my girl Sarah. I had seen all I needed to see, I knew all I needed to know, save one small detail. Is there a clothing allowance?

I posted this ad to Facebook and was heart broken to find out that a friend had already applied. He said he's just waiting for an offer. I guess I should have noticed it wasn't gender specific!
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