Dressing offensively

I was at the mall yesterday. There's a whole new outdoor section that has beautiful tiled fountains and limestone walkways - shiny, polished limestone.

On the way in, I was following this skinny woman who was wearing fashionably ugly little booties something like this:


She wasn't doing well. I had serious big fear because she was slipping and teetering so badly. Her poor ankles were wobbly and her calf muscles were bulging from the effort of keeping herself upright.

I thought she was going to go down any minute, and not in a good way.

I got abreast of her and glanced over: "she" was a guy in drag.

Bad long stringy wig, too much makeup, guy face, adam's apple, white blouse, short skirt, booties.

Look - dress, or cross-dress however you want. If a dude wants to feel pretty and strut the mall in a pencil skirt, that's all right by me.

What I DO find offensive is the shoes, people. The shoes. Here's my advice to the sisters: If you can't walk it, you can't rock it.

Now It Can Be Told

I don't generally blog about work, but this is about my old job, so I guess we are safe. All of my old managers have been jailed and don't get out til 2022. I can't imagine that they will read my archives back that far even when they get paroled, so let's go.

Joking. Kind of.

No, really, joking.

Maybe.

Ok. So.

We hired a woman at work from a different department. She seemed a little cold and odd during her interview, which we chalked up to interview nerves.

WRONG.

She was cold and odd beyond anything we could imagine.

Not only that, but she soon showed herself to be completely incompetent. She