Admnistrative Duties..

    Are more than expected with this goddamned thing.  I hate "social media ", and everything that has to do with everything private becoming public and does the world really want or need to know every time I pop a zit ?  So, then, what am I doing here ?  I guess I'm just bored and testy.   Deal with it.  
   My "blog" looks like a 2 year old is "administrating" it : different ugly fonts, spelling and spacing errors. I have no pictures or other clever things going on - it's like I've had a hemispherectomy (true facts - saw one  on "Gray's Anatomy").  So, I pop in here last night before bed, and a dear friend of mine has checked in and appropriately blasted me for not reading his blog while referring him to mine.  I'm such a bitch !
     He gently (yet firmly) suggested that I bite him, which, is general communication for us.  I have been bidden to bite him many times in the last 15 years or so.   What is is, is, I was conducting a quick seance in the dining room before toddling off to the marriage bed, and something went wrong all over the pages.  I got upset and sad and offended and everything looked ugly and I was tired and I thought it would be a good idea to be snotty and erase all biting requests.
    Surprise : it erased nothing, except my blogging dignity.  I was suddenly foist into the role of "administrator" and my petulance was etched in the blogosphere (my friend's word - he coined it years ago) for all eternity.  There was an empty trash bin icon (wait - didn't an "icon"  used to mean a painting of Jesus used for worship ?) and a terse administrative statement under my friend's name.  I am as mean as a snake.
    So now, I am saddled with all of these administrative duties I hadn't expected : mounds of paperwork, staff meetings, snack rotations, performance evaluations, no overtime pay, supervising the office Secret Santa name draw, and endless shit from my supervisors.  (Every "supervisor" I ever had told me I had "authority issues".  After hearing it many times, I just started to tell them "thank you".)
              I so did not know what I was getting into with this strange new world..
  Moral of the story ?  I blame my neurons and my ovaries for any aberrant behavior.  I take responsibility for my human interactions, but God forbid we should not look closely at the extenuation circumstances.  Crazy-ass woman.  As for my bite me friend, only one of the funniest writers, cartoonists, social commentators,  and former kindergarten teachers I have ever known - he does not overtly hate me, and can presently be found on the high road (which is often to high of an incline for me and my hamstrings...).  As for this blog, what the feck ?  Live and learn.  And administrate with wisdom, prudence, forebearance and coffee.