All posts in the lifestyle category

Who’s the Boss?

Published March 20, 2014 by bossymoksie

Most of this blog has been dedicated to my dating thoughts and rants.

Let me take this post to rant about my least favorite subject ever: work.

office space missing work meme

Nobody misses work when they are away from it.

I have a similar attitude towards work that I have with dating. It’s about showing people how to treat you and what they should expect from you. Don’t be a doormat in either place, because people will gladly wipe their feet on you. The interview process is not unlike the first few dates of a potential beau. The hope, the excitement and newness of it all, only to be crushed by the cruel reality down the road that this one is just as disappointing and predictable as the previous ones.

This is what I’ve learned. I do not do anything more than what my job description says. Fuck that. This is what we agreed on and I am holding up my end. This is what happens when you try to go above and beyond. It becomes yours permanently! With no additional money, title, or official say in what goes on! That doesn’t bother you? That’s fine, until you realize that all you did was give Mr. Motormouth and Ms. Lazy-shit more time to talk and be fucking lazy. Because you’re doing parts of their jobs that they never got done. So while you’re slaving away, these two morons are just being morons and not doing work. And if you’re still fine with that because you like your job, you like the new put-upon tasks, and you want to impress the bosses to move up the ladder, then good luck with that.

This is what sucks about that. When your unorganized boss fucks up, which is inevitable, and suddenly there’s a big push to get a bunch of crap done in a short period of time, guess who ends up with having to push their life aside to get it done? YOU. The one who took on more than what your job is paying for. Not the unorganized boss, not lazy-shit, or motor mouth. Have fun with that pressure! Without the money or title or a choice. Keep in mind that the person who actually does get a promotion is usually the kiss ass net-worker. Why would they promote you when you’re doing such a great job of doing all the worker bee tasks whatever it is that you’re doing, plus other people’s work, without complaint?

When I get more dumped on me, I make sure that the boss and co-workers know I am doing them a favor, and this is not a regular thing. I make sure they know, whether it’s true or not, that what I have on my plate is all I can handle. They want to add more, they have to take something away. And if you’re not gonna give me more money, you sure as hell better get me a free meal, or a bunch of appreciation! Or both. They usually do! 🙂

And this recession bullshit has not changed my attitude. Now companies like to act like they are the choosy hot chick who have too many choices and can be an abusive bitch about it. We’re supposed to go above and beyond and perform back-flips at will like a desperate puppy in order to have the privilege of doing the job of three people without the title or pay. No thank you.

In fact it has made me less interested in being loyal, invested and respectful to companies. Because now I KNOW you will drop me like a diseased sack of potatoes the second your company needs to fix their bottom line so the CEO’s don’t see a dip in padding their own pockets. It’s just business. I get it. Go ahead and save your asses companies! I definitely will continue to look out for mine!

Many of my friends are being over worked and underpaid for it, companies squeezing every last breath of their time, energy, and talents from them until they want to shoot themselves in the head for sweet release. I’ll pass. I am there for a paycheck: not to kiss ass, stress myself out over bullshit or incompetence, or get anyone’s approval. I’m there to do the job I signed up for. Don’t get it twisted. Because I definitely won’t. And the moment we butt heads with that, is the moment I get another job. Because the only person I truly ever answer to, is myself. I am the one that determine’s my workload, schedule, pay, and hours. And I know where the door is if you can’t give me what I want think is fair….or if I’m bored. Just like dating, I do this on my terms. 

I’m not suggesting that everyone quit and move on, but you definitely should remember that your only real boss is YOU. You are in charge of what you give, placing your talents in the right place and in determining your worth. Act accordingly.


Why I’m Avoiding Serious Relationships

Published April 3, 2013 by bossymoksie

Real talk time.

I’ve been wanting to do this post for the past two months but I’ve been procrastinating which is how I like to roll. (P.S. Why is thinking about serious, deep shit never fun? It’s never fun to sit around and have your soul start talking shit to you that you’d rather not hear. It’s much better to do…anything else. I guess if keeping it real with yourself was more fun, more of us would be doing it more often. This is why alcohol and loud music is so handy sometimes. That and a trail of guys willing to be nice distractions whenever you call.)

reality meme

Ugh…real thoughts.

After my big break-up and my cash-cow funny crash and burn date, I wanted to sit and think about what was really going on with me. It’s occured to me that I really don’t want a serious relationship. It’s not like I need to date 6 guys at one time to feed my ego. My ego is already big and is easily fed in almost any other situations. I like seeing one guy at a time, and I like knowing that someone will be there when I want attention, and the idea of sharing your life with someone who knows you and everything else that already happened is appealing. Isn’t the latter what friends are for though? But when a guy starts his serious settling down talk, I want to do this.

What you say?

What you say?

Why do I have that reaction? Most of you know all the shit I talked about marriage and settling down, and how I’ve run away from a few proposals. But like any smart bullshitter person, you can really make an argument for whichever side you feel like being on that day.

So what’s behind all those brilliant posts of yesteryear?

I paid attention to all the wifey wedding crap my girlfriends talk about whenever the subject of boys comes up did an informal poll. What I realized is what pops up into their minds when it comes to marriage is way different from what pops up in my mind. Lemme show you.


THEM: A huge, glamorous wedding where everything is perfect and beautiful (meaning yourself) and everyone wants to be you. This day will be THEIRS perfect.

All eyes will be on me, or they will all pay.

All eyes will be on me, or they will all pay.

ME: Planning a huge party where you don’t even get to get wasted at, having to invite people you try to avoid most of the year and knowing these bitches are gonna try to hijack YOUR party to make themselves seem important and relevant because deep down they know they suck at life.

Who asked you to come anyway? Oh yeah, I did. Damn.

Who asked you to come anyway? Oh yeah, I did. Damn.


THEM: Babies who smile, laugh, and be cute all the time.

Awww. So a 2 dimensional picture.

Awww. So precious…in a 2 dimensional picture.

ME: Babies who cry and shit all the time and YOU have to do something about it.

Oh. Dear. God.

Oh. Dear. God.


THEM: Always having a date whenever you need one.

date night

We ordered the same food, aren’t we so in sync and in love?

ME: Never having a date again. EVER.

staying in

Umm, what about that ‘Dateline’ show? Oh, it’s repeat. Kinda like this night.

THEM: More romantical and cuddling moments to come forever and ever and ever.

romantic couple with rose

This rose is a symbol of the purity and beauty of us, and our forever love.

ME: Forgetting that the other person exists, even though you live with them.

reddit wife meme

Why even get married???


THEM: Kids that say the darndest things when out in public.

smiling kids

“[Love is] Like an avalanche where you have to run for your life.”

ME: Kids who throw a tantrum everytime you go out in public to handle your business.

kid tantrums

Hey kid! It’s my job to throw a tantrum on the floor when I don’t get what I want.

Now you can see why I feel offended, sometimes even hurt, when the guy who says that he loves me wants to do this shit to me. WHY? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY WOULD HE WANT TO DO THIS TO ME?!

My life is the one that’s gonna change! His, not so much. Sure he gets the awesomeness that is me. And when the actual baby shit hits the fan, my smart ass will have a smart quip or solution for it.  But what is he giving up besides not sleeping with other chicks. Which we all know some don’t even keep up on that ONE sacrifice.

MY life is the one that’s gonna change in a big, unpleasant way. You can call it growing up and being an adult and shit all you want. Well, I don’t wanna. So there. There it is. And if you think I’m bossy now, wait until the responsibilities start rolling in. When I order my BLT salad with a side of Ranch AND Honey Mustard dressing and extra Avacado on the side with a half and half mix of Sprite and Strawberry Lemonade, that’s not just a lunch order, that’s a sign of things to come. You’ve been warned.

Last note on fears.

One. Kids are just fucking scary! There was a time when you worried about accidentally killing your own child by doing something wrong. These days you have to worry about your kids killing YOU and everyone they know. And you know who everyone truly blames. Gun laws. THE MOTHER. Talk about a red face! Too soon? Even if they don’t go postal on the world, the teenage years are never a picnic. They think they know everything when they know squat. I will literally roll my eyes at them everytime they walk into the room because I know they will be saying stupid shit as though they are some geniuses. And I would know!

Two. I am more afraid of this than the first fear: Boredom. Couples get busy, you get into routines, you get complacent. So then, no more spontaneity? No more adventure? No more discovery? That’s it? For most women, marriage is the endgame. But I think of it as the end…of living.

zombie girls

We will eat your brains and you will join us in talking only about baby formula and your husband’s favorite socks.

If marriage is the end all and be all, that’s all there is?

wasteland car

I sure as hell ain’t ending up here!


I Could’ve Had a Castle, and Worn a Ring!

Published June 26, 2012 by bossymoksie

Marraige. Love optional.

So, the marraige proposals. Let’s go down memory lane one by one, shall we?

The first one was right before graduating high school. He was very cute and convinced that we would never see each other again. That’s why he cornered me after school and suggested we get married. I had no clue what he was talking about, but he turned out to be right, we never did see each other again after graduation. He was cool, but we actually never did date. I was friends with his smart younger brother who always listened to my problems and did my homework for me. We were like besties. Anyway, the cute brother was my fake boyfriend once so I could get this other guy off my back. We were in fake relationship bliss when he publicly dumped me by taking some girl to a club we snuck into that we all hung out at. I was at home painting my nails sparkly gold when a text blast blew up my phone of people siting my fake boyfriend with his real date. How dare he? Turns out, the guy I was avoiding had challenged him to a duel or some ish by the basketball courts and instead of fighting for my honor, he hooked up with another chick for a real relationship. Looking back, I think the marriage wouldn’t have worked out anyway because when the going gets tough, he ran into another bitch’s arms.

(Fake) breaking up is hard to do.

Number two. I pretty well off dude. Accounting. Okay looking. And boring as fuck. I dated him and we had some good times. He said I made him feel alive. Of course I did, he was a walking piece of cardboard. He had to move for his job and decided to propose to me so I would go with him. But the thought of spending the rest of my life with him and his money made me want to jump out a window due to boredom. I declined.

Avoided marraige to cardboard.

Three. Went to Vegas with a few girls. That’s where I met…I don’t really remember his name. Tom, let’s say. Tom and I hit it off instantly. We got each other’s humor. We read each other’s minds. We were both really wasted. Naturally, I wanted to have a Britney moment and he was on the same page. Everything made sense under drunk logic and was awesome. (Drunk logic always seems more logical and you wonder why you didn’t think of these things or agree with them when you’re sober.) Dude didn’t have the money to have the quickie wedding of our dreams and I think it was a sign from God. I mean if he can’t pay for the wedding, he can’t pay for the annulment. Or the divorce and my alimony payments. Vegas weddings for shits and giggles are never wise.

Brit Brit moment.

Last but not least. A financier. Wall street type. Tall and handsome. Took me wherever I wanted to go. Let me do most of the talking. Jack pot yes? Not when the proposal is accompanied with ‘you don’t wanna die alone, wrinkly with 20 cats do you?’ Why did he have to go there? To my worst fear of being ugly old and surrounded by pets that I’m allergic to? That was just mean. Just because I look good on your arm and like your money doesn’t mean that I don’t have feelings and fears too! Is that how he’s gonna play it? And these threats will haunt me all throughout the marriage. Wash the dishes or else you’ll die alone. Clean the house or I’ll adopt a cat. Get me my coffee because no one else will date your wrinkly ass now. No, no, hell no. If anyone’s gonna be doing the manipulating/insulting it’s me!

Oh nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooos!

I firmly believe the execution and effort put into the proposal influences how things will go down the marriage, and I have no regrets. My proposal should involve fireworks, a horse-drawn carriage, a big ring, undying compliments and devotion, candle light, a rainbow, violins coming from seemingly nowhere, rose petals, and an audience. Then and only then, will I know he is the one. I’m still young and have plenty of time to break more hearts to find my king!

Those aren’t fake angels, those are REAL PEOPLE dangling from the ceiling! Now that’s an impressive effort.

The All Access Pass

Published June 2, 2012 by bossymoksie

For very important persons ONLY.

I was in love once. ONCE. It was a pain my ass. Until I can figure out how it can NOT be a pain, I won’t be doin that again. Which makes me a serial dater. I’m not a boyfriend/girlfriend kind of girl. I like to have a good time and if sumthin deeper develops, fine. If not, I ride the fun until it’s not fun anymore. Because I’m too in love with myself to give a fuck.

I’m not above all that lovey dovey crap and sentimental bullshit. I too have been entrapped by long walks on the beach (or anywhere), goofy baby talk, foot rubs, cooking (yes cooking!), hangin out with weird family members and putting up with pig-headed friends, making excuses, bubble baths, answering the phone EVERY time you call, fetishes, wearing matching outfits, and putting you first in my plans. And I do it all with a smile on my face (mostly). Cuz you in lurve.


That is what you get with the all access pass, my friends. The VIP treatment. If you are important, you will know. I will do the work of continuing to shave my legs and be generally hot and available. I will appreciate your work, because you’ve earned it. But this isn’t given to everyone. So most of you bitches won’t get that. Most of you fall into the other category. The dating category. Which means, don’t expect fuckin girlfriend behavior when you ain’t my boyfriend.  You are for sex and companionship only. Nuthin else. Don’t get it twisted! And it gets on my last nerve when dudes expect girlfriend treatment when dating. READ- they treat you like a friend with benefit but you are supposed to treat them as though the sun, moon, and star rises because of them.

I don’t think so.

You’re Not All That, Facebook!

Published May 31, 2012 by bossymoksie

Worst relationship ever…

A few weeks ago I tried to log onto Facebook when it asked for my phone number. Excuse me? I’m not THAT impressed with you to give you my number so you can get a hold of me when I’m not logged in. I determine when I want to hang out with you okay? You haven’t earned my number so you ain’t gonna get it. I’m not gonna let YOU have more access to me! You already know too much!

So I tried to give you a fake number but you knew it was fake. And now you’re tryin to turn it around on me by saying it’s for my own protection and security????!!! Who’s gonna protect me from you bitch! Who?

You want to know what I’m doing, when I’m doing it, what I’m thinking and also keep tabs on all my friends. In the beginning, I thought we were just gettin to know each other but no, you just wanted to know so that you could use it against me later! Like the ads that creepily know exactly what I like (shopping, cute dresses, ingle guys, local events). And now my friends, bosses and family can see stuff about me I usually hide they normally wouldn’t see. Even the government can be up in my business now! Now I can’t trust you and have to watch what I say to you!

Do you know how controlling you are? Trying to get me to like people, shows and events I don’t really like! (Or enough to ‘like’ their page.) Shoving people’s profiles in my face that YOU think I should befriend. I have a mind of my own! Did you ever think that maybe I was avoiding that particular person or that they may have had a restraining order out on me for breakin their car window once? No, you didn’t, did you? Because you never really think about my needs. You know, I have other stuff to do then be with you ALL DAY!!!!!!!!! I don’t want to play Farmville, or Mafia, or have three instant messaging conversations pop up just because I logged in. And I don’t wanna be bombarded with info from all my friends on that side window when I’m tryin to stalk my ex’s look at other friends profile pages.

The last straw, before the phone number incident, is the fuckin Timeline. You forced me to use the Timeline. Without askin me. Without tellin me really, what the benefits are of it for ME. Just changed it. There are two of us in this relationship you know! For the past year, everytime I come around, you just change the rules of the game. I never know what to expect anymore (and it’s not in a good oops-we hadsexintherestaurantbathroom kind of way)!

You think you can do whatever you want and I’ll just take it because everyone I know is on there. You got another thing comin! I will just have to do with you what I do with my boyfriends that be trippin. Get a back up in case I go the fuck off on you and wanna leave without ever comin back.

Which social media site do you think is the better? Besides 🙂

There has to be more options dammit!

When Pretty People Talk

Published May 12, 2012 by bossymoksie

Can I just say that I love Megan Fox? Megan Fox is like a genius wrapped in a hot girl wrapped in a decoder ring, wrapped in half-baked feminist slogans wrapped in a self-proclaimed loner who looks great in a bikini wrapped in a conundrum. Which is why her interviews are more interesting than 90 % of Hollywood bitches.

When pretty people talk, other people listen. They don’t really care what you have to say, they just wanna get into your pants. But they will give good nod and eye contact. Mostly. I’ve said some illogical, crazy, insulting things but no one gives a fuck. Sometimes I even speak gibberish to see if a dude notices. They don’t. Sometimes. But people will act like everything you do and say is the most interesting, exciting thing they have ever heard. When really they are picturing all the interesting, exciting things they want you to do with what’s in their pants. Same thing, I guess.

I know that’s what happens when I talk to a pretty guy. I can only half listen cuz I’m really wondering how strong his back really is. That’s why pretty people only need to know a thing or two about a thing or two because it doesn’t really matter what’s goin on in that head of theirs, does it?

This is what happens to pretty people. When we were younger, we were told we could have anything we wanted, and the world was our oyster. Dates, jobs, cookies, free t-shirts, waves, compliments, people takin pictures of you, waves from semi-famous people, invitations, mentors for jobs you don’t even want, extra sour cream without askin from Chipotle, and be able to give speeches about whatever feel like, whenever we feel like it. Also people fall in lust love at first sight, all the time, and all we have to do is show up!

We were promised the world and we are gonna collect, mofos, we are gonna collect! So listen up (as if you’re not already).

Sense and Sexability

Published May 3, 2012 by bossymoksie

I read the whiny/self-pitying/woe is me manifesto of beauty from Samantha Brick. Here is the link to it in case you didn’t hear about it:

My unsure smile betrays me. I’m beautiful bitches. I think.

I am so confused as to why she even wrote this. She was either A) Trying to prove how amazing her looks are by the effect it’s had on men and women to pump up her ego. Or B) Doing hard hitting journalism that being beautiful is NOT what it’s cracked up to be so the uglies can feel better about being ignored all day and going to sleep alone at night (therefore, opening the door for her to finally have a female friend who will let her make-out with their future husband be a bridesmaid at their wedding. )

Let’s address.

A) As much as I like me some bragging and braggarts (like Kanye West, or any other successful rapper. Or Brit Brit. Or any other successful pop star), she is a poser. I don’t even have to look at her picture to know this. You don’t have to prove your hotness! If you’re hot you know it. It’s called swag. It would’ve jumped off her picture from her eyes and body language and what would’ve jumped out at you is, ‘I’M HOT BITCHES’. We wouldn’t even need the article, cuz we would be so entranced by the picture that we wouldn’t even notice the words below it. Instead she looks like a shy mother of three posing for a Sears portrait. This is how you work it, honey.

I’m hot bitches! You can see it in my eye.

Even if you’re not so hot, all you gotta do is act like you are, and people will automatically fall in line. This was not full out bragging though, this was a disguised attempt at bragging. If you’re gonna brag, Samantha, go all the way. I know you’re British but, fuck humility. She should have taken a page out of any rapper’s song book and just bragged her way through that article with metaphors of how great looking she is.

Also, why is she complainin about dudes givin her free stuff? Take it and run, bitch! What this bitch also doesn’t realize is that men are hitting on her because she has a vagina. It’s a numbers game. They want to get laid. You are flirtin with them. They think they might have a chance. It’s not that personal. Most hot tricks (especially ones that get approached A LOT) know this. Except for Samantha Brick, apparently.

I think she has mad flirtin skills and she should’ve written an article about that. Cuz I’ve seen men and women get everythin and anything with some good flirtin. Why do I think she’s a good flirt? Cuz girls want to be friends with hot/pretty girls. You’d have to be a real insecure, desperate bitch (who’s great at flirtin and attention stealing) for them to not want you to be around their menz (boyfriend/husband/crush/stranger they spotted 2 seconds before you and called dibbs on even though he’s clearly not interested).

B) Let’s just call bullshit on this one right now. As if being hot would ever feel bad. People will never feel sorry for pretty people, so her attempt, if that’s what it was, is futile. It doesn’t matter if they were molested as a child, beaten by their husbands, or lost family members in a tsunami. And especially, especially if you’re not able to make female friends. Bitch, you beautiful! You will always have attention to do what you want with! You can get laid anytime you want. You have better selection of the opposite sex! You want someone with money? Done! You want someone who collects figurines? Done! You want someone who stuffs dead animals and has a foot fetish? Done!

As much as I love me a vain bitch, this one just has no sense. And no one likes a complainer who complains about something that everyone else wants, especially when that bitch don’t really have it. Samantha was probably just bored one day, after sifting through the tons of gifts and drinks given to her by the men of the world, and then threw up this article out while speaking gibberish to her husband. Because as she knows, when attention whores pretty people talk, everyone listens.