"Hi, I want to make an appointment with Bernice to get my bangs trimmed."

I know all three (or is it four?) of my loyal (and appreciated!) readers have been wondering where the hell I've been and what The Lady McBleh has been up to lately. I admit I've been consciously blocking her out of my senses through a variety of techniques -- visual barriers, earphones & music, and calming breathing exercises for when she does break through into my sphere of calm rationality -- so that my mental health deteriorates no more than it already has.

I'm the first to admit she bothers the hell outta me, but I certainly was not and am not going to let HER know that. I can't make her wear pants that don't ride up her butt. I can't change the horrible glass-shattering laugh she emits every 15 minutes or so. I can't stop her from talking about her personal life to anyone and everyone within earshot all day long. Nor can I make her into a person who understands that the workplace isn't the place to score a new BFF, talk about her kids all day, or make appointments to get her fucking bangs trimmed*.

What I can change is how I perceive her, how I deflect her overall horribleness and how I keep my blood pressure hovering around 'normal' when she's in the room.

So yes, there will be more posts about Bleh in the future. Please note, however, I will only be posting the shenanigans of hers that actually break through to my conscious perception. I have to keep my sanity -- even if it comes at the expense of your reading pleasure. Thanks for understanding, and more importantly, thanks for reading.

*Um, Bleh, you're in your mid-40s. Get a bob or something. That barrette you've worn since circa 1985 is really not helping you to be taken seriously. Anywhere.