Tomorrow is my birthday. This weekend is my fortieth-high school reunion. Thanksgiving and all its hoopla is on the doorstep… It’s kind of a trifecta for naval-gazing–throw in a funeral and it could be a perfect storm.
What about that coworker who loves to put you down? Like the woman who was actually the niece to the company’s owner who made a point to humiliate me in front of the rest of the office… In contrast, the owner of the company was so down to earth, he carried a can of Tucks Hemorrhoidal Pads with him through the office on his way to the men’s room. His niece? A Grade A-Bitch. … More Ten Times When You Could Swear You Were Still in High School
Foxy Writer Chick 