Wednesday, March 8, 2017

March 8, 2017

Dear Diary,

Apparently, today is National Women's Day and I couldn't be more thrilled!  This occasion is so important for all the little girls, grown-up women and especially those young, fresh, lively ladies with cinched waists, long, tapered legs, and six inch stiletto heels dreams and wishes that no man can oppress. There's nothing I like to see more than a nice, firm attitude focused in my direction.  Especially one with big, brown eyes and soft, gently tousled hair. Mmmmm, yummy.

National Women's Day is an important day for all slackers who don't like to work women and non-women, highlighting many of the benefits I have enjoyed anyway due to being white and wealthy fought for my entire life.  For one thing, maybe now people will finally learn how to use apostrophes correctly.  Nothing burns me up more than misplacing the apostrophe to make a noun possessive when it really should be plural.  I'm hoping that after today, racist oppressors will give the apostrophe the respect and dignity it deserves.  It's "women's," not "womens'!"  Ugh!  I hate that.

This celebration is a lot like "Take Your Daughter to Work Day," except as I understand it, nobody celebrating it is actually going to work, which I have to admit is a little confusing.  I mean, I understand the dignity and worth that comes with marching down a street and yelling while wearing vagina hats. Those wooly pink fedoras take a lot of time to knit, and getting them scented just right is a whole other job.  But if the whole idea is to show non-women what the world would be like without them, what happens if women don't show up to work and things are just fine?  Hmmm.  Maybe that's why pink slips are pink.  I'm not sure.  I'll have to look that up.

Yesterday, Chel called me to tell me she was participating in National Women's Day by not going in to work, which I fully support especially since NBC canned her ass for no real reason.  Now that I think about it, I'm not sure she ever got another job after that.  I know the Foundation hired her for Vice President of something and that part of her job was light dusting and keeping the floor of the office kitchen clean.    Let's face it, diary, Chel's a sweet kid, but she's not exactly setting the employment world on fire.  She has the interviewing skills of a sticky doorknob.  I told her to stay home, get on her back, stick her legs up in the air and lock in the deal with that millionaire Jew husband by getting pregnant.  I mean, even non-men in comas are able to do that. All she has to do is stick it out for ten years and then she's set for life, alimony-wise.

Finally, I'm overjoyed that National Women's Day extends to all women, regardless of race, creed, color or their willingness to do windows.  I gave Bessie the day off and had Bill remove her ankle monitor for 24 hours, which I'm sure she appreciated.  Then I explained that everyone is sacrificing for the cause and that she wouldn't be paid for the time off.   I thought I heard her say something about "cheap crackers," so I hope she doesn't forget to pick up more Wheat Thins before she comes back.

I love those with a little brie.

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