Curtsy Low

Some days just suck and you don't even realize it. Some days it is hard to be a girl. And no, that was a not a reference to Madonna or to the Madonna episode of Glee (which was escandaloso, no?). PMS-ing totally sucks. It sucks to be fine one moment and then be verging on tears the next. Self control = AWOL. Not to mention irritability levels that shoot higher than Justin Timberlake's trembling falsetto.

I was screaming at the TV last night while watching Gossip Girl's season finale. Yes, I know, the finale aired however long ago and I'm the last to see it. But how dare anyone presume to shoot Chuck Bass. Eastern Europeans think they are the you-know-what.

However.

PMS also gives license to my WHO-GIVES-A-______ attitude. Today I did what I have been procrastinating. I finally contacted a few men at work who intimidate me. El Presidente put me in charge of one of his pet projects (why he marked me for this task nobody knows, as a few individuals have oh so kindly pointed out). I was intimidated by these men because

1) I don't know them
2) I don't know anything about their specialties
3) I'm worried they will think I am an idiot because I don't know how to begin to ask about how their areas of expertise can help with this project

Honestly though, you know you're not meant for the business world when: after finishing part of a different project (with good results!) you bound/leap/skip up to your boss and with a final but tiny curtsy show him the finished product.

Today I thought, 'Who cares what they think of me? I'm learning. I can't be expected to know everything. But I can try to not curtsy.' And then I took the plunge, calling and emailing my way to a meeting request.

And then I came home and watched four hours of TV on Hulu. Bless this modern age where I can let the dumb things I do all day sink away in a good episode of 30 Rock. And thank you Alec Baldwin, because you are hilarious.