A St Crispin's Day A Rant in Three parts

So begins a St Crispin's rant in three parts.

First of all, the Lack continues to rear it's very ugly head. The amount of self loathing I feel about even talking about it...well, I loath in a variety of mediums...alot. Birthdays for classmates have become an issue; how many birthday parties does Goose have to go to? I swear he has one every other weekend...
His school has an 'All or None' invitation policy; heaven forbid a child know what it feels like not to be invited somewhere! They might learn that life isn't fair or something...
At any rate, having to buy gifts nonstop for other kids isn't really my cup of tea, but I hate the idea of Goose being the kid that brings the less than stellar gift...and then I hate myself on all sides. I hate the other moms, then hate myself for not being the other moms.
Secondly, I need to address that dratted Hiddleston and his antics, which are beginning to inter fear with my day to day life. That man is far too lovely for his own good...I just like to watch him...again and again.
What becomes of fangirls as we age?  Are we supposed to retire?  Or go underground? Am I now a fanwoman? Now, I'm not terrifically old, but given how young most fangirls are I feel positively ancient...and rather creepy.  I still remember my glory days of James Marsters and Michael Rosenbaum  [some of you may have to look them up...please do. They were-and still are-lovely].  
But yes, Hiddleston...too cute for his [and my] own good.  No man should ever be able to sneeze like that and still be sensual; it must be criminal.

Today I happened to overhear several of the uppers at Big Green discussing the salaries of the incoming newbies. Image my surprise to discover that their salaries match mine. Interesting considering I've slogged away in this place for nearly nine years...four of which I haven't even been granted the standard 'cost of living' quasi increase companies give you to keep you quiet.
Well, I'm not sure if I can stay quiet [like I ever could]. I have an honors degree from one of the best universities in the country, I arrive early and stay late, I take on other jobs outside my comfort and training, I fill gaps when people leave, I put up with more shit in a week than most do in a lifetime.
All for, [wait for it]
36 400 a year.  Before taxes. 
Now, please realise this isn't intended to be one those I'm edumecated/hardworking/rescuekittens type rant, but rather a flailing of hands. Eat me, Big Green. Eat me.