You, my dear, are no lady

This past March, I was told that I am not very "lady-like."  My first reaction was, "Hmmm, that's not very appropriate."  Immediately followed by, "Yeah?  So what?"  Look, I wear heels at least four days a week, change my purses to match my outfit's color scheme, and have a little adorable dog.  If that doesn't make you lady-like, what does?

Well, the last 48 hours have made me re-evaluate my whole, "Kathy is a lady, dammit!" attitude.  It started yesterday when I became an official member of the Football Writers Association of America.  My first reaction was to email/facebook brag about my accomplishment.  And then instructed my husband to use this as a tipping point if ever cornered into discussing whose wife is more awesome.  He clearly wins, because his professionally gets to write about football.  Later in the evening, we were watching the  NBA draft.  The Phoenix Suns, husband's hometown team, picked Markief Morris.  I had some choice words concerning their pick.  I'm not a fan of either Morris brother.  I think they are cry babies and lack any sort of toughness.  You can't just make a stink face and run to Coach Self for a hug in the NBA, kid.  Best of luck to you...  Husband and I didn't agree.  As soon as someone becomes a Denver Bronco, Phoenix Sun, or Arizona Diamondback, he converts to a complete loyalist.  It's ridiculous really.  So a month out from our 4th Anniversary, we argued about toughness and ability to contribute at the professional level.  We agreed to disagree...which really means, I know I'm right, but I didn't feel like arguing anymore.

And that brings us to today...I found myself the only person in the office this afternoon.  How does a lady pass the time?  She listens to Too Short, of course.  Thanks to my random playlist, Too Short's Cocktails came on.  I was thrilled.  So much so, I listened to it twice.  As Short continued to spit offensive lyrics, I IM'd them to husband.  His response, "you are ridiculous."  Much to my surprise, a visitor walked into the office just as an extra innapropriate verse came on.  Color me embarrassed.  Whoopsie.  Yet, here I sit, wrapping up this work week, listening to a custom-made TuPac themed station on Pandora.  It's Friday, I honestly have no other choice.

I should probably go buy another purse tomorrow.  You know, just to balance everything out.

By the way, if you are wondering why I refer to my husband as "husband" it's because I don't see the need to pull him into my mess of a blog.  I like to protect the innocent.  He has to deal with me on a daily basis, he deserves a break now and then.  Gee, what  a nice lady I am!