Why I would rather be a Ninja...

So I am pretty sure that I want to be a ninja. I don't want to come to work at my job anymore. Today I was inspired. I got to work and one of my favorite employees had been gone on the longest vacation ever, which means 3 days. So after she pushed vitamins down my throat we discussed my new TOMS shoes. I had to buy these expensive yet cheaply made shoes for a grad school presentation. They are actually confortable, but if I am going to pay $47.00 for shoes they better be awesome snakeskin print.

You hear what I am saying? So she checks them out. Now I did a little research and let me show you what I am going to need to be taken serious, BLACK NINJA shoes. Duh. For night prowling...

I mean I would be so much better at being a ninja especially with all this business knowledge I am aquiring. I get to write a business plan on a company I made up. Now tell me that isn't fun? I bet ninjas don't have to write business plans. They get to sharpen their samari sword instead, and plot revenge on people that have crossed them. I wish I was a ninja when I got rear ended last week. I bet that guy wouldn't have expected a ninja getting out of a red nissan altima. I am just saying.

Basically I am going to try to be a ninja, right after I get my outfit.

Chivalry is dead.

Dear Whoever is reading this,
Once upon a time, I woke up and in my horror realized it was Monday. I have to say this has been a particularly rough Monday. I had a wicked awful hangover yesterday and it seems that it had crept into my Monday morning. I didn't feel bad, but my eyes were swollen and basically I was looking like a truck ran over my face. Yea for Monday. So last week there was a cute electrician replacing lights in the building. This was an act of God I am sure, because we never have any work done in this dump. If you don't believe me, come see my office. So one of the warehouse guys, let's call him Mr. tank top, told me that he notified this cute electrician that there happened to be a blond checking him out. FYI - the blond is me, there are no others in this building. His response was a smile, and then Mr. tank top found out he would be returning Monday. Mr. tank top is very sweet and took great care in finding me a nice tall man. So in my fog of a morning, I still managed to straighten the beast of hair on my head, and wore purple. I've been told it brings out my eyes. Well he came by, even mentioned that I smelled good. Smiled all the while and then when the lights were installed, he was gone. Naturally. This may be the story of my life.

I should have worn a pony tail.

NOW, get ready for the rant, because here it comes. Wikapedia (and yes I know you cannot actually site this as a reference as I have been told by every grad school teacher I have had) says this: Chivalry[1] is a term related to the medieval institution of knighthood. It is usually associated with ideals of knightly virtues, honor and courtly love. The word is derived from the French word "chevalerie", itself derived from "chevalier", which means knight, derived from "cheval", horse (indicating one who rides a horse). Well folks, chivalry it's DEAD. The men who I have grown up with that are the same age as me do not know what manners are, or even how to court someone. So Mr. Pringle tells me today that if I want someone then I have to go get it. Find a man, ask him out and yadda, yadda, yadda. OMG, I am so sick of doing everything myself I could just scream. In my head, I am all ready screaming. So along with supporting myself, going to work, going to school, keeping up a house and a vehicle, now I have to go find a man. PULEASE! Why can't he just come in a nice little package on my door step?

The End