Five

I fucking hated my father but I would rather be like him then like any woman I have met lately. Sure he was a sadistic, abusive deranged fucktard, but my mother is a pathetic, whining weakling. She would never stand up to him and neither would my twin sister or my older sister. It was just me and my brother to fend for ourselves. Women are weak.

Yeah, okay. I'm sexist. How many women can say that? All I hear from my women coworkers is 'I have a headache', 'this job is too hard', 'I'm depressed' and 'I can't handle this case because it's a baby and I'm on my period... I don't want to cry'. Well, you get the point. Whine whine whine. Shut the fuck up already. Either do your job or get the hell over yourself. I try my damnedest to not be weak, but I know I am. Shit, I'm 110 pounds soaking wet. I know I can't lift a 300 pound body and drain it properly. But do I cry and bitch that I'm too little for my job so I can't handle it? No. I work out. I can handle a rib spreader and keep up with most of the guys. I've knocked the biggest one unconscious when he challenged me to a wrestling match. But I feel like I'm judged for all the stupid shit all the other women in the office pull.

My superior decided that she was going to hire her niece. For the sake of this blog her name is going to be Sasha. So I get handed Sasha today after no sleep last night and told to show her around and prep a totally routine 70 something granny for burial. Nothing to it. Sasha starts flipping out when she sees granny. 'Oh my god... it looks like my grandma.' (No shit, she looks like everyones' grandma.) Then she starts crying. I haven't even had a chance to get started yet and she was already crying. By lunchtime I was finished, so was Sasha. She was moved upstairs to deal with the grieving families. I bet she won't last a week.