And a side of Xanax, please.... WTF
Hello my darlings,
I am excited to have my new domain in place. I honestly had no idea that .wtf was a thing, but now that I have it I feel that my life is a little more complete! I think we can call agree that my behavior (and the shit that falls out of my yapper) elicits far more WTF reactions than anything COM (or calm). teeeheeeeeee I am still figuring out the site and what I can and should(ish) do, but I must confess it pleases my heart greatly to be publishing it on a site that ends in .wtf! Full Disclosure: I fully realize that the majority of my behavior and this nonsense that I publish falls way outside the realm of what anyone should actually do, but you keep reading it, so I keep writing! I BLAME all of YOU! You're Welcome!
Before that giant Ag company provided me the lovely incentive to bestow my brand of what-the-hell-ever service (wink wink) that I offer to another company/industry/continent/planet, I had a co-worker and friend publicly state in a meeting that after hearing me present, she felt like she needed to "double up on her Xanax!" I have to admit I took that a little personally at the time, but I also continue to use it as a reminder that I need to be much better at reading my audience and adjusting my message to align with the energy of the entire room. Full confession, I know that I pretty much suck at this! I am big, and loud, and exuberant, and occasionally caustic (OK, possibly more often than just occasionally, but I do at least try to keep that shit in check) I love sarcastic banter and nothing brings me more joy that being able to elicit a laugh, especially a genuine ear to ear smile and belly laugh. The past few weeks have afforded me several opportunities for self-reflection and improvement and it will be a surprise to no one that I continue to FAIL! MISERABLY!
Here are a few examples of Ronda moments (mostly cringe-worthy moments) where I should have employed the calm, pleasant, nice Ronda rather than relying on the sarcastic, smart-mouthed (and frequently foul-mouthed) jackass that inhabits my head.
- The day I find my husband dead on the couch and moments after the body has been removed from my house I make a smart-ass "porn-for-mommies" comment about the adorable 20-something cop that was vacuuming my rug. I can blame it on being in shock, but really it was just a poorly timed smart-ass comment because in times of.... oh hell, all the time, that's what I do!
- Making a declaration to the Funeral Director that the death certificate absolutely MUST say married, because I'm not allowing the son-of-a-bitch to escape me that easily after the mess I am now stuck cleaning up. Full disclosure, I haven't read the grieving widow handbook (though I am considering writing one, stay tuned) but if I were to find such a book I'm pretty sure there would be a few chapters about the statute of limitations that is required to pass before it is acceptable to make snarky comments about one's dead husband. (FWIW those will probably be reduced to a couple of footnotes in my book)
- Actually stating, in my outloud voice, that "life is not a fucking Lifetime movie, so maybe you should set some realistic expectations" when my idiot brother called me, the week I was planning a memorial service for my dead husband, to lament about how torn-up he is about his divorce, from a woman who had him arrested for domestic violence four years earlier! OK, maybe that one isn't so bad. Seriously, the dude just needs to pull up his pink, lacy panties and cope!
- Any number of foul-mouthed, sarcasm laden diatribes during one of my drunken exploits. I really do try to keep my shit in check with drinking, but there have been a few nights with lots of wine and little food that clearly weren't my best moments. Thanks for tolerating and for keeping my drunk-ass safe!
- My inability to find a kind or gentle way to explain where Ray is. It truly is awful to watch the blood drain from someone's face when they ask in an upbeat voice "where's Ray?" and I stammer a bit and say something like, "oh, you don't know...... he died!" My friend told her son when his fish died that he "went to college." I thought about borrowing that line, but Ray already spent a lot of time in college and while there are certainly some idiots in my presence (the majority of my family) that would probably give me a quizzical look and accept that response, I feel like it's probably much more likely that I would end up finishing the statement by exclaiming "HA! just kidding, he died!" and then we're pretty much back to square one!
I guess the hardest part of this self-realization journey is that prior to Ray's death if someone gave me that pathetic doe-eyed look, I would assume they were either stupid or checking out of the conversation which afforded me an opportunity, to make fun of them for being stupid OR if absolutely necessary adjust my message. Now I am not sure if people are looking at me like that because they think I am stupid and pathetic or if I am just completely overwhelming them and should immediately offer them a shot of vodka and a side of xanax.
On the bright side, I guess this side of xanax thing could open up a career in pharmaceutical sales, or probably just drug-dealing, but either way it's a job.... of sorts, right?
Until next time...
XOXO