Because i'm a blond(e)

Sometimes i feel like a 5 year old. I hate being told what to do. And it's not that i dont understand my place. I am the employee, the wife, the stepmother, the sister, the aunt, the girl with the tits standing in the corner who couldnt make a peanut butter sandwich by herself if someone didnt tell how HOW to do it. No, not bitter. But if it's something that i've been doing, oh lets say 3 years or more, and i havent screwed it up too terribly, then why oh why does everyone feel the need to instruct me on how to do something. I know how to fill the gas tank on the durango, i know how use a fax machine, i know how a drive thru window works, and yes, i know how to use the voice mail on my cell phone. Blonde does not mean stupid.