Transmission: Fembot 1.0

Hello, world!

So, here’s my pitch, the talking head behind the computer screen.   Summing myself up without the accompanying/endearing facial expressions is a difficult task for a hambone like me.

But eff it, I’m up for a challenge.

I want to write a blog because I’ve got a lot to say: sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s not.  I hope to only subject you to the former, not the latter.  I used to write a lot, but then life and work happened—it fell to the wayside, along with my willpower to resist chocolate covered pretzels.  I hope to get back on the wagon toot de suite.

I’m a tall blonde from California (born and raised), recently married and currently working as the pit boss of the menagerie I like to call my home. (Two borderline-obese cats and one incontinent dog make for a lot of work.)

What keeps the lights on is my five-day-a-week gig doing marketing for a social gaming website geared toward tweens and soccer moms.  My coworkers and I like to take long lunches and discuss the divine properties of frozen yogurt.  I can’t complain too much, they pay me after all.

My interests vary from unicorns to feminism, and everything in between.  But let me set something straight: just because I have a vagina doesn’t mean I like going to the mall, watching romantic comedies, and the color purple.  I like all those things because they kick ass. (I had to put myself on a three-month ban from Sephora because at the rate I spend money there I should be a majority stockholder.)

I think Billy Crystal was spot-on in When Harry Met Sally:

Harry Burns: “There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.”
Sally Albright: “Which one am I? “
Harry Burns: “You’re the worst kind; you’re high maintenance but you think you’re low maintenance.”

Let’s just say there’s a lot of Sally Albright in me; hold the mayo, dressing on the side.


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