Swing Your Partner, Socially So

The subject interests me ( guardian/conservatorship ) but I cannot say B. Spears' does, at least not a lot, due to unfamiliarity with her and her career. Yet, like so many I suppose I would like to think a person ought to make their own choices. Currently Mr. J. S. has simply been replaced, according to Fox Radio; by someone approved of by Brit's legal team...or somethin'.

As usual I feel as if I am addressing myself...my social worker/case manager seems to have advanced her career and I'll never see or hear from her again, according to a colleague. She is my PSS ( short for Peer Support Specialist ) . I failed the P.S.S. test years ago before Mississippi made it a paying vocation of a part time nature. Ms. MK and I did an awkward flirtation do see do as usual leading to a large Medicaid bill, nothing more, which can seem a bit of a bitch. I mean, ya' get tired/ frustrated and cranky ( if not Old And In The Way ) .

The woman said the right things. Despite encouragement from she, no ( significant ) words are ever spoken. I could not determine her choice of scent; we faked as if we have things in common beyond conceited or enlightened greedy self interest. She will not ever care to embrace me; I will not care to high five/fist bump either. I mean, we are adults...or supposed to be. Maybe we do not like one another. She did take a randomly bought retroactive Hallmark type special occasion card off my hands.

The woman has developed a seeming habit of not showing herself the door, twice in a row. She will not go out with me. Like life in general, things like this anger me. She revealed her age/relationship status but after awhile, put up or shut up, ya' know?

Of course women are put off by my new found celebrity and they need to see if it has changed me. Of course it has: the world is inflating and will one day implode, perhaps. One in my position feels pressure to deform/reform and occasionally perform deviant acts if not top my last outlandishly ludicrous statement ( s ) . Real pressure, though ( see a typical Reginald Martinez Jackson phony autobiography ) is working a regular shift at an actual real workplace, like the social workers do.

Reg chose baseball over football supposedly upon being advised to do so by then Coach Winkles while in school out west. Nowadays kids his age ( late teens, early twenties ) do not have to do this, according to what I hear. Reggie had been a heads up person at a young age, working as a tailor back east before college. The short story says that in the sixties a legitimate contract to play a non contact sport could be safer than the alternative, financially. This is similar to the enormous security that my current managerial team brokered for me, as opposed to the risky venture that blogging sites like Vocal represent. While I am not at liberty to divulge lucrative details let us just say I write my own ticket having earned the freedom to do so by having paid my dues over the last week or three.

In fairness to Ms. ( the Divine ) M., she takes care of people, including her living parent. She lost her male one awhile age...and boy has she got jugs to support of the Playtex variety. Maybe it gives her/one license to ( be a? ) bitch. Someday, I fantasized, maybe I could change into a Caftan while we visit. I feel I will never be seen by anyone significant in my preferred clothing. I read about some woman's beloved eccentric male relative who led a tragically repressed existence like mine in a piece published posthumously on a competitive website out west. My neighbor's t shirt reads It Is What It Is.

I mistakenly thought we had an interestingly intriguing battle of the sexism's if not witticism's. She flattered and steam rolled me though. " Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets...you'll never win " I hear in my cranium, from the ancient musical Damn Yankees.