Don’t Let The Door Hit You…

It’s official. I’ve been traded to Team Twitchy.

If I can make it through this week I will never again be asked to make a “ressie!” That’s “reservation” in I’m-a-hip-female-PITA-boss speak.

I won’t have to get her lunch at the dumpling place, where standing in line is like being in a steam bath that ends with someone named “The Dumpling Nazi” just waiting to tear you a new one if you so much as look at her wrong, every Wednesday and Friday because she’s too busy working (read: shopping for shoes and talking on the phone about her kids). (more…)