the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Happy Second Annual Dooce Got Fired Day

With all the exciting sleeplessness going on in the Armstrong household I somehow managed to forget the anniversary of losing my job because of this website. If you are unfamiliar with what happened you can read about it here or here, but all you really need to know is this:

You shouldn’t write about your job on your website.

Last year I celebrated the first anniversary by opening up comments and asking readers to share what song and book they’d take with them if they had to flee a nuclear holocaust. I thought that would be a healthy alternative to how I really wanted to celebrate which was to drink a lot of alcohol and take a lot of drugs and listen to a lot of Joy Division. I was in a bad place last year.

This year I’m in a much better place albeit a much less rested place. Even if I weren’t breastfeeding and could drink alcohol or take drugs I probably wouldn’t because that would mean I could miss a frog smile or a frog sigh or a frog flailing of the legs while I’m temporarily not sober and considering that there are a limited number of frog smiles before they turn into frog screams and frog slamming of doors and frog outbursts of the You’re totally embarrassing me, mom! variety, being temporarily not sober right now is just not worth the sacrifice.

This year I’d like to open up comments again, a highly dangerous endeavor on this website as my comments section tends to attract the most deranged people on the internet. I guess I’m so sleep deprived right now that I’m looney enough to take this risk.

This year’s question is more job-related seeing as I am celebrating the loss of a job-related thing, that being my job.

What is the most insane thing your boss has ever said to you?

I’ll go first, and this is totally 100% pure and complete genuine truth:

“You look like a naughty school girl in those black tights. I’d like to spank your bottom.”

Why I didn’t sue that company for the entire $70 million dollars in venture capital it wasted is one of the true mysteries of my life. I think I just ignored the whole thing because my boss was British and had really bad teeth, and I figured that British men with really bad teeth just didn’t know any better.

(note: House Rules still apply for commenting. House Rules are as follows: 1) Be nice. 2) Don’t say anything mean about Britney Spears.)

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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