Girls, girls, girls

Before we get into this I just want to say one thing - I cried watching "How to Make An American Quilt" and I love "Mean Girls". That said my general world view of girl on girl action is something more akin to "Heathers". Ms. Friedan and the prickly Gertrude Stein shaped my thoughts into a Georgia O'Keefe sculpture pretty early on. Still, it must be said. In fact I'm convinced it's true for most of us, I would prefer my memoir to be entitled "In the Company of Men". In the last few days women have been rearing their curled, shiny, well manicured heads in every landscape of my life.
1. My boss is like Poison Ivy.
I know I hate my boss. How painfully unoriginal. But seriously, your boss is like Shannon Doherty, my boss is like Poison Ivy. I'm allergic to her, she's an infectious oily scum, and she makes my eyes puffy. (This last part is mostly from the crying). This woman is on Anna Wintour proportions, not literally she actually has an awful habit of wearing socks with sandals. This sandals bit is one of my primary points of contention with her existence.