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Sam Dobson Writes: June 2012

Thursday, June 28, 2012

To the bitch who keyed my car...

Those of you who are close to me remember about a year and a half ago that my car got keyed, twice. I caught an employee stealing at work and found my car keyed the very next day. Naturally, I assumed it was the employee or his crazy girlfriend. After a telephone confrontation with the employee, my car got keyed again, only furthering my assumption. Of course, all contact was cut off and the drama that surrounded the incident, and the employee himself, faded away. All was pretty much forgotten until recently when another fellow employee had confided in me that he had heard it was someone else who had actually keyed my car, a different former employee. Needing to channel my rage, I wrote this letter to her:

Dear Crazy Bitch,
I want to apologize for whatever it was that I did to upset you during the six months or so that we worked together. It must have been pretty awful for you to hold onto so much hate for so long. It was a year after you were fired that you saw me driving into the apartment complex that you had just moved into. I must have been just horrible to you, so much so that you were compelled to take your key and drag it across the body of my new car, not once, but twice. Was it you who also put dog shit on the passenger side door handle of my boyfriend's truck around the same time? Obviously that shit was intended for me.

I feel sorry for you because your life has so little meaning. I'm right, aren't I? Why else would you dislike a coworker (for reasons I am still unaware of) so much that you couldn't let go, even after a year? It annoys me that you choose to be nice to my face, while harboring such ill will on the inside. Perhaps you could have confronted me and this whole matter could have been avoided. What am I saying? Of course that would never happen. You would have to have some level of maturity for that to happen.

Quite frankly, I was shocked when I learned that you were the one who keyed my car. I was shocked because I had pretty much forgotten that you existed. We only worked together a few months and nothing significant had happened between us. It had been over a year since we worked together when you got the urge to key my car and over two and half years when I heard through the grapevine that it was you and that you still harboured this hatred for me deep within you. Sounds to me like your life is pretty empty and meaningless.

Of course, after the shock came the rage. My first instinct was to track you down, couldn't be that hard in this small town, and break every single window and light on your car. Pay back is supposed to be a bitch, right? After I calmed down I remembered that karma has already found you. Your life sucks and I don't need to slump to your level. Instead I want to convey my sympathy for you and your shitty life. I sincerely hope your attitude changes and that you decide to be a better person, because if you continue to sling shit and hate at other people, it will continue to come back and bite you in the ass. Karma will keep following you around, making sure that your life is shit. You'd be surprised at how much happier you'd be and how much better your life would be if you showed people kindness instead of hate. Although unsolicited, I thought you could really use this advice.

Forgivingly yours,


Friday, June 22, 2012

I'm Starving!

Happy Friday Everyone!

The work week is over. You can say "goodbye" to needy clients and annoying coworkers and say "hello" to your favorite beverage and leisurely activity. Not sure if any of you have noticed, but I have, that I usually write on Fridays. When I realized this, I thought about it for a moment and then decided that it must be the mysterious burst of energy Fridays have been known to give people. When I actually have the weekend off (which I have had a lot of lately, thank you boss!), Fridays are a relief and I don't find myself cringing every time a customers says "Thank God it's Friday, right?". Instead, my whole-hearted "Oh, yeah!" actually feels good, not ironic.

Hope you all have something fun to do this weekend to help you forget your nine-to-five lives for a minute. Today is one of my best friend's birthdays (Happy Birthday Madi!), so we are going to celebrate tonight. It's a good thing I didn't really go over my points at all this week, because all that alcohol is going to cost me. Confused? I'm talking about Weight Watchers, silly! My friend and I just jumped on the Nazi weight-loss band wagon. I have a few friends and family members that already swear by it. I have tried it before back in High School, but I kinda winged it and ended up malnourished and always tired, in bed by seven at night. Now that I actually do need to lose about 10 pounds, I finally gave in.

I will admit, I am not paying for this service. I don't feel bad, WW won't miss my $20 a month. Like a top secret spy I figured out a way to calculate how many points I should get and I use friends and family to find out how many points certain foods are. You may feel this is stealing, but I am poor and let's be honest, I'll probably completely neglect my points-counting routine in a couple of weeks. Anyways, since most of you are women who read this post you probably already know what WW is. For you men (or women who live a charmed-skinny life), WW is a point-based weight loss system in which you are given a certain amount of points you can have each day.

I was very disappointed to discover that every alcoholic drink has at least three points or more. I only get twenty-six points in a day. Am I supposed to skip two meals just so I can have two glasses of wine?! Have no fear, back-up points are here! Well, we get a weekly allowance of back-up points to use if needed. Since I really didn't use any of my back-up points this week, that means I can get as drunk as forty-nine points will get me tonight. Just kidding, mom! I'm not an alcoholic. In all seriousness, it's nice to be able to have a few drinks and not constantly feel the guilt of ruining a week of eating well.

It's funny what lengths we will go to in order to feel good about ourselves. While I do want to loose my belly pooch, I don't want to live a life lacking of flavor. I want to be able to eat that vodka pasta on a date and indulge in fully loaded frozen yogurt. I don't want to think about how many calories are in that cocktail I'm about to drink, but I want to feel good about my body too. Wouldn't it be nice if there was a machine that could just evaporate our body fat? I imagine it would look like a tanning bed. You'd go in naked and come out five pounds skinnier. Aww, what an idea. Someone would make billions. All you science nerds better get on it! I want a profit, it was my idea!

Anyways, I've wandered off. Have a great Friday everyone and don't forget to indulge a little!

Starvingly yours,


Monday, June 18, 2012

Shake Things up a Bit

Good Morning All!

Hope your Father's Day weekend was just lovely. Mine was great; filled with BBQ, friends and family. Now, it's back to work! Work. What do you do for work? Do you enjoy it? Most people see work simply as a means to earn money. They don't care if they are doing something they are passionate about, so long as there is money to be made. I wonder what percentage of people hate their jobs? If anyone knows, please, do tell.

As many of you already know, I have been searching for a way into the publishing industry since I graduated from college last May. Needless to say, the lack of response and lingering feeling of rejection brings me down every now and then. Reading and writing are what I am passionate about. Determined to build a career that not only earns me a decent living but also makes me happy, I will settle for no other industry. I enjoy working with my four-legged friends, but I feel that I am destined for the publishing world. It's as though I am a failure if I don't obtain this goal.
So, what do I do? I continue to write. I continue to send my resume out. I continue. It's simple really. I just wonder how long it will take before it pays off. I don't think my goal is unrealistic. It just takes effort to achieve. I could take the easy way out and pick a simple career at random, but then I wouldn't be happy. I'm not trying to be preachy and tell you all that the second-choice career you are in isn't good enough. All I am saying is, you shouldn't have to stay in a job that you hate.

Obviously, if you have responsibilities (those pesky bills or sometimes peskier kids) you can't just up and quit your current position. But why can't you start browsing for something that wouldn't make you dread Monday through Friday? If you have a shit boss that makes you want to rip your hair out, if you are sick of dealing with stuck-up clients, or even if you are just bored out of your gourd, it might be time to put on a pot of coffee and go online shopping for a new career. It could change your life, make your work weeks less stressful, and your weekends more enjoyable.

Sometimes life can get too monotonous. Add a job you hate to an already monotonous life and you get a big bag of crazy. We need change and excitement. Just like a first date, a new job is exciting and a little scary. It's just what we need to shake up our day to day routine. Maybe you like your job well enough, but do crave a little bit of something new. Take a vacation, even if it's a weekend getaway. Pick up a new hobby. Take up a sport, get crafty, or do as I did and start a blog. Something as simple as learning how to cook something new every week can be just what you needed to spice up your life. No need for a movie-worthy adventure, just a little variety.

Until next time,


Friday, June 8, 2012

Someone Peed!

Good Evening Party People,

Hope you are all having a drinktastic champagne Friday! No crazy night of drunken debauchery for me. I am enjoying a glass of wine, or two, and some good old fashion America's Funniest Home Videos. It's already pretty funny; add two glasses of wine and I can't stop laughing. While I enjoy the cutesy videos of dogs and cats, clips of toddlers and children are my favorite. If you have kids, please don't get offended, but there is just nothing funnier than a four year old falling flat on his face or a baby just learning to stand on her own getting knocked over by a hyper dog. In fact, witnessing these bloopers first hand is what I look forward to most of having kids of my own.

Aside from the vast amount of broadcast-borderline child abuse, AFV is full of examples of what not to do. It is an extremely thorough documentation of how dump people can be. Don't get me wrong, there has been plenty in my life that is worthy of a $10,000 check. We have had our fair share of unfortunately funny accidents within the family, leaving us with regret that a video camera wasn't ready at all times. There was the time I loaded the dish washer with regular dish soap as oppose to detergent. My siblings and I spent the afternoon pushing the massive amounts of bubbles out the back kitchen door. Or the camping trip that my little brother, inexperienced with dirt bikes, gassed the bike and held on to the handlebars as the bike took off full wheelie and dragged him along.

One of the funniest memories I have with my boyfriend involves a can of store bought cinnamon rolls. One night, my boyfriend and I decided to treat our sweet tooth with some delicious cinnamon rolls. I always bake the store bought, and I assumed everyone else did too. I preheated the oven while I instructed my boyfriend to open the can. Realizing as I handed him the fresh can that he had never opened one before, I decided to have some fun with it. As he started to pull the cardboard wrapper down the can, it popped (like it always does). Apparently, he didn't have any experience with canned pastries. He jumped up in the air and landed about five feet back as I yelled "Shots Fired!"  He ended up wide-eyed and looking to me for an explanation (and probably wondering who the intended target of the drive-by was) while I keeled over in a fit of laughter that would keep me going for days.

I am sure that had someone been video taping the pants incident, I would have taken home not only the $10,000 check but the $100,000 one as well. Curious? We have to rewind about ten years, back to when I was in middle school. Being silly girls with endless sleep overs, my best friends and I got bored...and weird. One night, three of us were feeling extra silly when we came across a pair of pajama pants that appeared to be extremely large. Somehow, we decided it would be a good idea to all get into this single pair of pants. Wearing t-shirts and underwear, we all got into the pants one at a time. I was in front, leading the way down the hall of my best friend's house. We slowly walked the hall in a fit of giggles the whole way. As we approached the open bathroom door, naturally we looked at our reflection in the mirror. Big mistake. The sight of how ridiculous we looked, on top
of the giggles we already had, put us over the edge. All of the sudden, there is a wet sensation and the screams of three girls desperately trying to claw their way out of a pair of pants.
Hands down, one of the funniest moments of my entire life.

There really is no better way to unwind after the work week with a night full of laughs. Memories like these are the ones that help us get through the cloudy days. I know its a cheesy cliche, but laughter is at the top of my list of most effective medicines. Doesn't laughing keep us young, too? It keeps our attitudes and our faces looking fresh. Embrace your laugh lines, they're the expression of a joyful life. Don't dismiss funny. Go ahead, laugh until it hurts. It'll do your body and soul a load of good.

Hilariously yours,

PS- Although I won't oust the girl who actually peed on us, I will say that it wasn't me, believe it or not.


Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Let's Talk about Sex, Baby

Good Morning Friends,

I hope your work week is running smoothly so far. Today is Wednesday, or what I often hear people refer to as "Hump Day". While I don't find the title all that flattering, I do find it amusing when people post "Happy Hump Day" on Facebook. Although, something makes me wonder if those are the people who aren't actually doing any of the humping. Am I making any of you uncomfortable, talking about sex? If I am I apologize and urge you to turn back now.

As human beings, sex is a big part of our lives. It's a natural and utterly habitual practice for the majority of people. Despite being so commonplace, there is still this sort of taboo, or in my case a shyness surrounding the discussion of sex. Don't mistake me for a prude. You know those Girl's Nights I'm always blabbering away about? Those are frequently dominated by talk of what goes on in between our sheets. However, I have been resisting the discussion of fornication on my blog. I guess this is because I know who will be reading it. It's embarrassing to talk about such private matters with your boss, family members, or worse yet, your mother-in-law. I feel more comfortable giving sex advice to complete strangers! Nevertheless, this is an experiment.

Why should I be ashamed to discuss sex when it is so ingrained in our culture and has been for centuries? Aside from the hundreds of movie sex scenes that would make you extremely uncomfortable to watch with your mother and the thousands of song lyrics you find shocking when sung naively by a 10 year old, sex is everywhere. Especially abundant in education, we are introduced to sex-ed in fifth grade. Taught the nitty-gritty bits of it and shown a rather traumatizing video of woman giving birth. That image doesn't go away, at least for women since we are the poor creatures who will be enduring that torture. Next, there is Health Science in high school, in which you pick a sexually transmitted disease to research and horrify your fellow classmates with graphic pictures. Kids have to learn somehow, right?

My focus in college was literature. The sexual innuendos and erotic imagery is never ending in classic reading material. Shakespeare was the king of sexual puns, something my Shakespeare professor had a lot of fun (creepy fun) explaining to us. Upon analyzing one of his earlier sonnets, my fellow classmates and I discovered the entire poem was about his "Willy". Proof that men have always been a bit immature and naughty. Amongst my minor courses of Anthropology, my favorite was Anthropology of Sex and Gender. I found it fascinating to get some sort of perspective on why men and women behave as they do when it comes to relationships and sex.  We discussed the most interesting studies, including one that found strippers made more money when they were ovulating. My attention was never lost.

In my last semester of college I took a course called Women in American Society. I figured there would be no surprises, the suffrage movement, civil rights, etc. The usually uneventful and boring lecture took a turn towards kinky one day when my professor started discussing women's health in the Victorian era. Doctors commonly performed what is now called masturbation on their female patients. This "vulvular stimulation" was meant to keep the uterus healthy (yet pure), a necessary regimen for those women trying to conceive. Doctors didn't view this practice as a sexual act. In fact, they found it to be a very long and laborious task. The first vibrator must have seemed like a gift from God. It was the fourth or fifth (can't remember exactly) domestic electronic appliance invented. Of course, I was very amused with this new bit of knowledge.

With the physical act of love present in practically every facet of our culture, why I am reluctant to write about it here? It's not like I am planning on giving you all a play by play of my afternoon delight. Hell, most of you devoured Fifty Shades of Grey in one day and are now constantly fantasizing about finding your very own Christian Grey. See, sex is everywhere! Okay, that was good right? I dipped my toe into the talking-about-sex-water. Maybe the next time a sexy topic is on my mind, I'll have the balls to give you all the the dirty details.

Stay tuned.

PS- You've probably noticed the new spiffy look of the blog. I'd like to thank my good friend Jessie for helping me in areas where I am completely incompetent, like designing a blog.