Thursday, July 19, 2012

Svetlana Petrov, Plant Eater

I came to the realization today that my inner person is not who I thought it was.  I am actually quite certain that my inner person, or soul if you prefer, is a man.  Definitely a gay man, but a man for sure.  How can souls be either sex, you ask?  Well I don't know.  I'm certainly not claiming that my soul has a penis...I just think that's the best way to describe some of my more testosteronic tendencies.  My inner Summer is an alpha male.  There, that describes it perfectly.  

a pic of my soul but way more buff 

So you'd think that this alpha-female thing would allow me to fit in with the alpha males of the world.  And you'd be wrong.  We're supposed to be fragile!  Because we've got boobs, that's why.

Problem is, I like "guy humor", meaning that I find a good razzing pretty ha-larious.  I see guys just walk up to eachother with an endearing "hey dickhead" and receive a totally normal "yo, douchebag!" in return.  But nooo, when I play around with anyone there are no pet names like the aforementioned, shouted to me. I just get the triple awkward combo served up on a platter:


*blank stare*


Take today for example, I'm walking from the back of the office towards the front and I pass the office of my co-worker...we'll call him, Jonathan.  After I've just passed the doorway I hear Jonathan yell, "HEY ARE YOU GOING TO THAT EVENT ON ELM AT NOON?"  

Not quite sure if he was talking to me, I turned around and walked back.  And being the total jokester that I am, I said  

"Am I, hey?" 

Well I didn't say I was funny, I just said I was a jokester.

So anyway,  my co-worker responds with "huh?" and a puzzled look.  I replied "Well you said 'hey' and I wasn't sure you were speaking to me.  If you use my name next time, I'll know I'm supposed to answer."  *big smile*

Ok, disclaimer:  this sounds really bitchy via written text but I said it totally tongue-in-cheek and really playfully.  

So Jonathan replies "oh my god dude, you're sooo direct sometimes, are you Russian?"

Ok..I'm sorry, now I'm confused.  I don't look Russian by any means.  And last time I checked, I wasn't wearing a tall furry snow hat, sporting 'Stalin' as my surname, or turbo guzzling a pint of vodka.

thinking of rocking this look as a disclaimer (sans the blonde locks)

Come to find out, there is a stereotypical saying about Russian women that goes like this:

"there are no Russian women, only Russian men without penises" 


but also "lol" because that's kind of funny.  

Jeeze, way to make a gal feel like a real ball-busting buzz kill.

Here I am thinking he knows I'm joking, but To Jonathan, I am a true soviet incarnate.   In addition to me not being funny, it dawned on me that I also need to work on managing perception.  This point was again proven two hours later when I walked into a meeting where the topic of small talk, was hamburgers.  As soon as I walked in and sat down, the client turned to me and said,

"we're talking burgers here, but I'm sure you're a vegan, right?"

What?  Whoa.  Where did this come from?

I don't understand how you can look at someone and just assume that they are a vegan.  Is it because I didn't have any remnants of a 16 oz. charcoal grilled, rib-eye stuck in between my teeth? What does a girl have to look like to protect her carnivorous identity?  I love a ginormous burger...don't threaten me with a good time.

Just trying to be consistent with the shirt theme

I give up today.  I am clearly, the non-master of perception.  *sigh*  Just call me Svetlana, Russian vegan.

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