Author: mandyymayy

I'm a thirty year old female raised in Virginia, living in Baltimore. MFA in poetry. Communications.

Women are Fantastic


Being a female assistant manager of a tool store is a task and a half. I deal with disrespect, borderline (&blatant) sexual harassment, and ignorance every day. So, why would I stay?

Excellent question.

1. The economy is in the toilet. No one will hire me for anything else. Retail is my only job experience, except for lifeguarding! I was so a lifeguard in high school.

2. My boss is an incredible man that fought to get me promoted to my position. He’s understanding and supportive, hilarious, and most importantly a diehard Redskins fan as well.

3. I am compensated well. My benefits are fantastic.

That being said, I despise retail. Some customers have serious problems accepting answers from a woman, much less one that is at times half or a quarter of their age. They cannot fathom that I have legitimate knowledge about tools. My boyfriend and friends are metal workers and backyard mechanics. I applied for the job because of my experience with them.

Customer never cease to amaze me with what they deem appropriate to say to me. Whether they “want the real manager” or they’re “going to stand here and stare at that red head all day” to telling me, “You’re smarter than I thought!” and telling me “Oh don’t lift that, that’s too heavy for you!” (whether it’s ten pounds or eighty) I can lift 150 and move 200.

Its demeaning and infuriating. I come from a very long line of very strong, intelligent women… and I am far too stubborn to stand by quietly and complacently while I am blatantly insulted. however, I am under the obligation of my job to provide excellent customer service!

so How do I manage? Sometimes all I can do is prove them wrong by answering their question and surpassing the expectations that they hold for my male counterparts. WOMEN ARE FANTASTIC. and People should know that!

I am also eternally on a job search.

I want men to respect women regardless of age and occupation. There’s no reason why I can’t sell a welder with more product knowledge than anyone I work with—even the 50+ year old men I work with. but I get dismissed by customers that do not know anything.

&Must I go into how many times I get hit on in a day? It’s gross and unbecoming of their character. That gets an eye roll or a death glare. I try to walk away and ignore them. There is some serious creepy going on in that store though. Some coworkers have had to deal with legit stalker-type behavior. There are a couple customers that I have to completely avoid because of how uncomfortable they make me. It’s ridiculous and unfair.

So long as I or my other female coworkers have to deal with this behavior—I don’t want to hear that men and women are equal and everything is copasetic. It’s not.


(picture care of Pinterest)

Swollen Skin–poem

My leg rots away with the words from my mouth—its
green apple spit dribbles down the blushed poinsettia leaf
of my skin. This bed is infested with the filth of afternoons
drenched in the silt of sleep. Exhaustion drips. Skin swells.
My fat ankle the fat lip of a marriage to love driven into
the ditch. I would eat these pages like cotton hung to my
gums, savor fleeting dreams with the flesh beneath my skin.
Gauze, wrapped tight between the sheets—fleas crawl on
skin; infected by the bite of failure on the lips. My dry
spell ends in an abscessed mind. Chew chalk pills with soggy
teeth and swallow hard the loss that rots with pages
empty in hand.

written 11 August 2011.

Friday Favorites


Scary Movies – ahh, it’s October! That means Turner Classic Movies AND American Movie Channel both run ridiculously long horror movie marathons! I love it. I never really knew these marathons took place until I was desperately unemployed four years ago. My sleep schedule was so jacked from not working that I literally stayed up all night watching horrible movies. I think my favorite might have been Motel Hell (kind of like Psycho but with splashes of cannibalism and incest). I absolutely love Vincent Price though and think Alfred Hitchcock is a genius. During that time period I also rented every Vincent Price horror flick from the library (note—no job, no $$). While the Edgar Allen Poe remakes were wildly entertaining, they were bastardizations of the actual stories. Amusing nonetheless. I can’t wait for the scary movies to really kick in! I might even go see Paranormal Activity 4 in the theaters by myself! (no one will go with me…)




eCards!!!—Oh my gosh, I think I might just dedicate an entire day to these things! I can spend hours scrolling these on Pinterest. They’re my favorite thing about Facebook. They’re hilarious. It’s decided. There will be more.



Mixed Media Jacket—I really want one. I prefer the fancy cargo/ leather one from Zara… but the other is nice too. Anyone want to buy it for me? I’m broke.



Nostalgia—Write me! Stick Stickly! PO Box 963 NY City, NY State 10108
I started singing this to myself the other day while eating lunch at work. It came out of no where! Then I remembered the spin wheel he would affix himself to that would choose what show they would air next. Backstreet Boys was also on the radio the other night. Not even ironically. I still knew all the words. Word up childhood! &Spice Girls at the Olympics? This is all getting pretty epic here.


Skulls/ Skeletons that are Pretty



Happy Friday!

Day Dreams–poetic prose

I know the sound of a cricket song, abrasive to the ear—those crooked legs aching away at each other. They burrow under my skin in dreams while the thin spindle limbs of spiders tiptoe across my nails. It’s never well to hear an insect walk—never well to see my eyes veiled with lace as I start to think, muse horrid things in sleepless nights [the slow dripping rot of skin off bones, exposed cobalt veins, itching flaking skin that melts at the touch—tired eyes with the red wire lines ache for a sleep without the locust creeping] These metal chairs bear gumball spot-welds—effective and ugly like the play-out of each afternoon. I’ll hide in the shade until the awful crawl of insects on my hands awake me. Eating the evenings and drinking the sober smoke of night.

written sometime 2011.