I ain't scared of you

Today I had to channel a little Bernie Mac in my Hall of Fame meeting. As some of you may recall, I am on the Board of Directors of this Hall of Fame for my kind of dancing, and we had our big gala event last month, and it was a disaster, largely due to our awful insulting MC, who we unfortunately had made a board member before the event. So I knew today we would have to face him as we evaluated how the event went, and we'd have to call him out on his behavior. The women on the Board all agreed with me privately - but much to my chagrin, only one of them was present at the meeting. The rest of the meeting was like this good old boys' network of yes men and enablers. I was horrified as everyone went around the room and said how much they enjoyed the event and how well they all thought it went - as I had feared, we were being hung out to dry (that's the women). And I felt myself caving in on myself - I don't mind admitting I was scared of this guy. He's a real jerk - an old school chauvinist who cuts women off when they speak and has this very imposing personae. He's big and loud and a real bully.

But then I remembered this great story about comedian Bernie Mac and how he had to perform for this tough room and walked right out on stage and said, "I ain't scared of you motherfuckers!" And somehow this gave me the strength to stand up to this guy and say what needed to be said. He of course offered no apology and tried to turn it around on me that it was my fault that none of my people supported the event. Typical male ego, ugh! I have zero patience for it, zero. Which is probably why I'm (happily) single.

At any rate we went round and round and accomplished nothing at the meeting and I left as usual wondering if I should quit. I know you're sick of hearing this. I'm sick of hearing myself talk about this. Luckily we don't meet again until Jan so I can decide if I want to resign or not. By then I will probably need to get a sitter for Bumpus for the meeting(s), too. It's hard to feel authoritative with a baby on your boob.

So I drove home with my stomach in knots and a massive headache, then had to put on a tight uncomfortable wig and sing at a Halloween party for five hours for peanuts while I handed over every penny I made to pay my super-expensive new babysitter for the night.

This day can just go take a flying leap, seriously.