"christina, i like you. i really do. but i grew up in a trailer park and i know how to kick your ass. and christina, i will kick your ass if you don't give dr. burke back his surgical cap."
+ + + + +
oh izzie! when my trailer-trash tv alter-ego said those words last night on grey's anatomy, my heart leapt. see, i grew up in the ghetto -- the urban equivalent to a trailer park -- and like dr. stevens, i grew up knowing how to fight.
no matter how hard i try to stuff the olney bitch posse (OBP) into my mental skeleton closet, it manages to pop out like the button on a pair of pants you desperately wish would still fit.
my personality fits the OBP well. at times, when i'm jazzed over an idea, or a project, i feel like i steamroll over people ("roll on" in OBP speak) not in a malacious way, but sort of like a beast who isn't aware of her size. or her intensity.
and awkward. like the big, orange hairy thing from a bugs bunny cartoon.
i feel like i need to slowdown because others around me aren't moving at the same speed. then i question what i am doing. are people staring at me like that because i am moving or talking too fast, because there's a booger hanging off of my face or are they scared i might eat them?
my worklife's mission so far has been to walk into a messy situation, observe the insanity, pull on my shit-waders and dive in to begin cleaning house. i organize, i create, i provide new methods and new thinking for old jobs. my resume should say simply say iSimplify to offer the newest product and creative services from me.
but trust me, i think i am learning to relish my "wonderwoman" role. look out, i have the lasso and i'm going use it. no excuses or lies when you get caught in it. my goldcuff bracelets riccochet the bitchy barbs of coworkers. "who the fuck does she think she is?"
then, after solving another problem and putting my clothes back on, people who see me walk down the street say, "oh my, she's such a lady, isn't she?"
if only i could find my wonderwoman underoos -- now, that would kick ass!
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