Tag Archive: misanthropicverbiage

Dear Person That Keeps Texting Me, 

I’m writing to you here, because I know what you do with men that won’t stop bothering you, which you are. You deprive them of all contact. However, one of my many flaws is that I tend to always want to have the last word, so here it is. 

1. I never led you on that I’d be that friend that goes out constantly. I “go out” in the traditional sense maybe a few times a year. I don’t have the money to do it often, and even if I did, I have much more worthwhile ways to blow my money that last longer and don’t cause me social anxiety like being around you does. You just sit there. 

1a. You lost all contact privileges or hope to speak to me again when you sent me a text threatening, and I quote: “To show up and pull me out [of my] house” and my girlfriend too. I don’t take that as a joke. You’d know that if you listened to half of what I said about why I cut off contact with obnoxious people in the past. You do not use words like “pull” or “force” in reference to taking me out of my home. It may seem a small linguistic thing to most, but to me it says one thing: “You are something for me to control and I can make you do what I want you to by force if necessary.” Needless to say, I don’t care for that. It’s made me legitimately scared you’ll somehow get my new address and show up here. 

2. You didn’t help your case by sending me baiting, passive aggressive texts to me about “finding a picture of me in my costume on the internet on reddit” and to “Text him if I want to hang out or if you hate me and never want to hang out ever” That’s creepy. Creepy as fuck. And I checked, it’s not true. So it’s playing on most sensible human’s fears of having their picture posted on the internet without their permission. You’re using fear tactics and guilt. That smacks of what I mentioned in 1a. You honestly believe you have the right to try and manipulate and force me to do what you want me to do. 

3. The very fact I feel somewhat guilty about this is something that disgusts me: As a female, I’m told I should be nice to boys and not to hurt their feelings. That I’m the bitch that lead them on, it’s all my fault if their feelings are hurt. Well, guess what, you’re a 30+ goddamn year old man. Your itty bitty feelings are not my problem. They never should have been my problem. Maybe I should have responded a long time ago with something “mean.” I think, “maybe this is on me in part.” And then I remember you’re a 30+ year old man that’s been married before (divorced) with two kids. You should know better. 

4. You’ve repeatedly made it obvious you don’t listen to what I say. I tell you I want at least a week’s notice for plans, you keep texting me about “hanging out” tomorrow. Or tonight.

4a. And you keep mentioning drinking. Constantly. That’s a massive red flag to me, and to any female raised in the “always watch your drink” days of our society. You want me inebriated. You don’t want me, you want to feed me alcohol to see what I’ll do. I’m not your fucking toy. Further, it makes me wonder why you want me incapacitated so I can’t leave, because I’m a decent fucking human being and I don’t drink and drive. Ever. And you want to meet at your home. I’m not comfortable with that, for all the fucking reasons I just listed. 

4b. Further on the I’m not your toy– your frequent texts of commands to “amuse you” show a lot about how you view me and women in general. 

5. You started down this road when you showed you had no sense of boundaries by texting me in the middle of a flash flood warning and severe thunderstorm to “come watch your kids” because your “sump pump blew out.” this tells me two things: I’m a potential babysitter and you have no regard for my personal safety or your kids’. I don’t even know where you live. 

5a. I don’t care if you apologized later, the fact you did it in the first place tells me a whole lot. This also refers back to 4: You don’t listen to what I say. I told you, multiple times, I hate kids. I hate kids. In plain English, I have told you “I loathe children.” I won’t even learn yours’ names, because that is how little I fucking care. And you blatantly ignore it. 

6. You used me as a resource for your dating woes to the point it was pathetic, and further illustrated your lack of boundaries. I’m not a stereotypical woman. The fact you seem to believe me to be a resource to “Solve the mystery of what women think” proves you believe me to be so on some level. This refers back to 4 as well: You don’t listen to what I say. I’m a stereotype. I’m a woman. Ergo, I do what women do. I’ve told you, repeatedly, that isn’t the case. I’ve also demonstrated it in my actions. You’ve blatantly ignored that. 

7. You’re my former supervisor. That adds a whole other level of creepy to all of this. 

8. I don’t have to fucking justify to you, or anyone, why I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t owe you any explanation. My high school self, before all this stupid bullshit and work and college, and a fuckwit ex boyfriend or two, would have laughed at you and said “Fine, bitch, cry into your pillow.” You know what? She’s making a fucking comeback. She gave no fucks. She was a royal cunt at times, but she stood her ground and didn’t give a fuck what people she upset if she was doing something she knew was right. 

9. I’m deleting your text so I’m not tempted to respond, because the sooner you learn you can’t manipulate and order around your friends, female or not, the better. 

Have a nice day, and a very merry go fuck yourself from me to you. 



People frustrate me.

Those of you that read this blog, way back in the day when I had the time and energy to post on it regularly, know this. I made a post about how I prefer to not be nasty to people if I have nothing in common with them, I much prefer to simply let us naturally drift apart. This works pretty well for most people.

Emphasis on most.

Kids, if someone hasn’t seen you in a while, the correct way to reconnect with them is thus: You send them a message, or a text saying something to the equivalent of “Hey! I was thinking of you the other day and just wanted to see how you were doing. Hope life’s treating you well!” What’s great about this is they have the option to not respond if they so choose. They also have the option to respond with a goddamn novel about their life up to that point. It’s low pressure and low cost energy wise to both parties.

The incorrect ways to reconnect with someone are many and varied, so let me tell you about the one most frequently used upon me: The Pounce.

I will be out in a store– grocery store, book store, clothing store, doesn’t matter– and someone will notice me. They will not say “Hey! Fancy meeting you here, how are you? Good? I’m good. We should catch up sometime, ciao!” and leave me the fuck alone.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s the polite reaction, is it not? You’re doing something, I’m doing something, neither of us planned this social call, we planned to do other things. By virtue of my being there and you being there, we’re ruining each others’ experience that we initially planned. Right? I thought so.

Instead, what I always fucking get is as follows:


I don’t feel comfortable appraising your social worth in front of you. It only leads to you being upset because, invariably, you’re not important enough for your tastes. “Er… hello there. Long time no see. How are you?”

Through out this, I will be steadfastly staying in my spot, paused in what I am doing. I will not turn toward the individual. I want a quick interaction. I give no indication of wanting any further conversation than common courtesy.


Yes, I am, thank you for asking. I’m glad you’re doing well too!” I smile, nod, and go back to what I was doing. I thought, and still think, this is the universal sign for “end of conversation.”

Apparently, I am dead wrong.


Oh, here we go.


At this point, I will have to take a step away, because invariably, they will find the need to intrude into my personal space to force my attention back on them.

“Yes, that could be fun.” Yes, I know it’s a lie. I shouldn’t lie. But I really don’t like being rude or out and out hurtful. That, and I really don’t like the fucking scene people create when you tell them to go away. They usually glare and huff and are a bitch to you the rest of the time you’re wherever you are, so invariably you have to make effort to avoid them or you have to leave. I don’t want to leave. I didn’t bring this goddamn interaction on us, they did. It’s their fault. Childish to assign blame, I realize, but all the same, one of us caused this. It wasn’t me.

Here, I will usually check my phone, or take note of something announced over the speaker if it is something like a store closing, special event, or other such excuse to leave. I’ll smile politely, and say: “It was great seeing you, but I hadn’t realized what time it was/the store’s closing/I don’t want to get caught in the crowd for the event/etc. I’ve got to go.”

Now, in reflection on these interaction, I always realize I should have firmly affixed a “Good bye!” here and turned on my heel and left. I view it as rude, but other people tell me it’s being “assertive.” I notice it’s only “assertive” when they do it, never when it’s done to them. Otherwise, it’s rude. Thus, I’m disinclined to follow their advice, because again, I don’t like drama, I don’t like scenes, and I really don’t like people texting me and messaging me and being dicks to me going “WHY WERE YOU SUCH A BITCH TO X?” But it’s also more than that: It’s not that I don’t like you. I just don’t want to have an extended conversation with you at this moment. Let me take a brief moment to explain something about introverts like myself on the extreme end of the spectrum:

We plan our social interactions down to the moment. We think “Okay, if I can arrive by this time, I can leave by this time without seeming rude.” It’s nothing against you, we don’t hate you, we’ll have fun while we’re there, even! But being around people is tiring. It’s tiring for different people for different reasons. Usually my problem is that with any given person, I have a set of conversation topics I can’t go near, I have a set of facets to my personality I cannot express, and I have to filter everything I say to such a degree it is mentally exhausting. “GET NEW FRIENDS THEN” you say. Well, I do. They’re mostly over the internet. Why? Because I live in a fucking place where there are almost no people like me, that’s why. I have to make do with what I’ve got until I can move elsewhere, like all the precious few people that are like me are. I do like some interaction with people. I get lonely like everyone else. So I have to make do with what I have. Thus, I have to put up with all this garbage if I want to interact with anyone other than my partner. Point is, I don’t like pissing people off because I can tolerate so precious few of them to begin with. If I want to fucking leave, it has nothing to do with you. Contrary to popular belief, extroverts, the entire goddamn world is not a reaction to you.

Now, to get back to that tricky “being assertive” by saying “goodbye,” I was raised that you don’t fucking impose yourself upon other people. Thus, if someone says they have to go, their body is angled away from you, and they look about to leave, you say “Oh! Sorry to hold you up. See you later.” I was, apparently, the only person raised this way in the last fucking half a century. If someone says they need to leave now, the correct response is:


If you’re someone like this: Fuck you. Either you’re oblivious to both body language and verbal communication, or you’re outright ignoring it. There’s no excuse for being that oblivious past the age of thirteen or so unless you so happen to be actually clinically diagnosed on the autism spectrum. In that case, you get a pass, and I’ll adjust my interaction with you accordingly. If you’re a mentally healthy human being, you’re just being rude and inconsiderate. I’ve give you every polite indication that I want to end the conversation. I’m not going to tell you to fuck off, because I think that as another human being you deserve to have courtesy extended to you.

Here in the interaction is where I start to get truly upset at the person in question, for all of the reasons above. It’s even worse if I’m actually out with another person at the time– I’m not only upset you’re wasting my time, but you’re wasting someone else’s that I chose to be with and making us both uncomfortable.

“Some other time. I have to go, I’m sorry.” Why the fuck should I have to apologize to you? Oh yes, because I’m an idiot. And my idea that I should be polite to everyone is outdated, because the rest of the fucking world doesn’t follow it. I keep forgetting people are surprised when I tell them “thank you.”

And yet, I’m giving the other goddamn person an opportunity to realize they’re being a knob and exit the conversation gracefully. Fucking take it, you ass. Thankfully, about 50% do. The other 50% will physically follow me when I leave. You think I’m kidding. I’m not. Their response is:


Guys, I sincerely wish I was making this up. I’m not. After these interactions, when I finally escape them by going “No, I have to go, I’m getting in my car, I will talk to you later” I, frankly, feel violated. I had to physically get up and leave somewhere because another person would not leave me alone. That’s not a nice feeling. It’s no better than having to leave a bar because you’re being sexually harassed, being talked down to for your appearance, being made uncomfortable because you hold a different belief or value system than the majority at a totally unrelated event. I’ve been harassed in a lot of different ways. I worked for a call center. I’ve had men ask me to send them pictures of me, I’ve had people talk about their porn habits explicitly, I’ve had people call me stupid and horrible things. They all hurt and make me uncomfortable. It’s much of the reason why I quit. I’ve had people follow me from class to class and I’ve had problems being catcalled, on the street, in my car, and in any public space. I’ve had problems being sexually harassed by a guy on a loudspeaker attached to his truck while I’m in my car. All of these things make  me uncomfortable and upset, and makes me want to avoid going out. I shouldn’t have to keep myself sequestered in my apartment to avoid having my personal mental or physical space infringed upon in an upsetting manner.

But all that, I can shake off. It may take me a while, but I can. Frankly, it hurts a whole lot more that someone that actually knows me and calls themselves my friend would make me that uncomfortable by forcing themselves on me. It hurts, because it makes me feel used and stepped on. And more than that, it makes me feel stupid because I was the one stupid enough to give you the time of day in the first place. That’s the worst part, I get told “WELL BE ASSERTIVE,” “YOU’RE EXPECTING THEM TO BE PSYCHIC,” “YOU NEED TO SPEAK UP!”

If you knew anything about me at all, I wouldn’t have to. You know when your friends are upset, even before they say anything. It’ll come through, even in their text messages and IM’s. Anyone does.

But I’m the one that needs to change here. I need to be assertive. It’s all my fault. Just like it’s all my fault for wearing shorts on a 90 degree day while I’m moving boxes to a new apartment and sitting in my car at a stop light with the window down. It’s my fault for giving you an opening.

Yeah, got it. Thanks.

I graduated college on May 5th. I think. I didn’t bother going to commencement, but I do have a piece of paper.

The first thing that struck me is the fact that there’s nothing on this piece of paper, it just says “Bachelors Degree” and that’s it. Not that it was in English. Or Psych. Or anything else. I could have done underwater basket weaving for all my future employers care, apparently. I always think of that fact when people ask me “HOW DOES IT FEEL TO GRADUATE?”

“It feels like no one actually gave a fuck what I did, just that I put in the time. And it feels like I don’t have to go to class anymore. Yay me?”

To avoid the look that would follow that statement, I only include a part of it: “It feels like I don’t have to go to class anymore.”

People keep acting like this is a huge milestone. I suppose it is, but I didn’t exactly not see this coming. I’ve been working hard at making this happen for five years. It feels like an accomplishment, yeah, but frankly, it isn’t very satisfying or surprising. Or, at least, it isn’t as satisfying as everyone seems to think it should be. I’m not jet setting off to a new and exotic job. I’m not running off to get married and have babies. Those seem to be the big life changes everyone is actually expecting me to go on to and on both counts are being vastly disappointed.

Why does it matter? It doesn’t, really. But I do feel oddly disconnected from the world around me due to how strange my expectations for life seem to be compared to theirs. People seem to expect big changes at these “milestones” and  the only real difference I’ve noticed is now my job is bitching and moaning at me to go full-time, which is pissing me off. I’d like a little time to be left alone and get my shit together. I’d like a small break before I surrender to a lifetime of servitude, thanks. I realize it’s the last one I’m ever going to get.

Anyway, in my little bits of free time my job seems so desperate to take away in the name of moar money because moar, I’ve been reading. Books, magazines, fanfiction, blogs, a bit of everything. I’m trying to catch up on five years of not being able to read anything because I have to plow through plays and text books and frankly, I’m a little disappointed in what I’m finding.

I don’t know how many of you out there are biologically female, but if you are and you’re American, you’ve probably heard of Glamour magazine. It’s one of the less shitty women’s magazines out there, especially next to the likes of Cosmo. 

Or so I thought.

I’ve gotten through two backlogged issues so far and suddenly, see the problem with being a subscriber.

I’ve read the May issue before. Last May, in fact. There was just a different celebrity on the cover. All of the shit inside is the same.

Speaking of, I have a question to pose to biological females that consider themselves to be of the womanly persuasion: Why the FUCK do you let them treat you like this?

If you look inside, everything is about either babies, men, or “fixing” yourself. They tell my friend with small breasts that she needs “ruching” to fix her “lack of curves,” they tell my busty friends that they need “support” to “get the girls under control,” they tell my “curvy” friends with hips that they need to “make themselves look smaller.” Who is this ideal woman they’re trying to make them all look like?

Oh, and furthermore, if you look at your body and realize that you’re not ‘boy shaped’ (i.e. thin) or ‘curvy’ (i.e. Girl code for “fat,” I’m quickly learning) and go “hey! There’s nothing wrong with me. So, Glamour, what should I wear?” You will receive nothing but resonant silence in response. If there’s not something “wrong” with you, they want nothing to do with you. According to them, there’s always something wrong with you. And it needs to be fixed, because otherwise HOW will you get to find a man and get married and have babies and have OMG THE PERFECT LIFE?!!111!!

… Why do you let them do this to you? Here. Go check out Curve or Bust. I know they’re probably a little weird, and one is rather queer (Curve), but in leafing through their pages in the book store, I don’t feel like I’m a failure at womanhood because I want to pursue a life that is mine, not ruled by who I find attractive, by what I think is wrong with me, or by children. There’s stuff about kids and womanhood in there, but the approach is less forceful. It’s information about pregnancy and kids, but it doesn’t imply that “OMG IT’S THE HIGHEST HONOR ANY WOMAN CAN HAVE AND ANYONE THAT HATES KIDS IS A FREAK AND YOU SHOULD WANT BABIES NOW RIGHT NOW HAVE BABIES NOW.” They have articles about sex and sexuality that are not dictated by how to please your man, but how to have pleasure as a couple, or, hell, how to pleasure yourself. Some of the shit in the magazines is pretty out there, granted, but so is a lot of the shit in Glamour. 

For those of you of the less womanly gender persuasion, I would recommend hopping over to your local Barnes and Noble, and pick up a copy of the British version of GQ. No, put the American GQ down. Trust me on this one. You want the British one. The girls are less fake (and therefore, much hotter) and the writing is hysterical and high quality. I have never laughed so hard at a magazine, and that’s even with missing half the jokes because I’m a Yank. Everything in there breathes, it’s fresh, and most importantly, it doesn’t make you feel like shit about yourself. Much like Curve and Bust don’t belittle women, Brit GQ doesn’t seem to suffer from the same stupidity the American one does of making men into someone they’re not. There are health tips and things, yeah, but when they talk about clothes, it’s about the clothes, the watches, the ties, not about “look how awesome Johnny Depp looks in these. Now, you’ll never be as good-looking as him, BUT here are some clothes so you can pretend.”

Now then, I’m going to go off and catch up on some more reading, and see if I can work out a plan to blog on here weekly again. If you have any other alternative magazines, please leave them in the comments so I and other folks can try ’em out. Doesn’t matter if they’re for girls, boys, or fish. Tell me what you like to read, and I’ll go check them out.

P.S. If you want to check out the actual, physical magazines I’ve listed here, try your local Barnes and Noble Bookseller’s. I can find all three of those mags there, even in the conservative, Midwestern area I live in.

Watching Sherlock Holmes (the newest movie) and contemplating what it is about this movie, and about the older episodes of House, that I find so very calming.

Yes, ladies, gentle folk, and those in between, ’tis a trip inside my head time. Do feel free to skip if you’re uninterested, but I will try to make it entertaining, despite its egocentric nature.

As many of you have probably noticed, I have a take on the world that is a bit unusual in some ways, not so much in others. The differences in my mind, in how it works as it processes is in some ways a blessing, some ways a curse.

I am good at school. I can twist and argue things well, which is why I do well as an English major. I have good grades there, not spectacular but a respectable B average after almost four years there. However, this same ability to twist my mind inside out around Kafka’s The Trial and work my way into a character’s emotions like a happy heartworm. For those of you that are scientists out there, ignore that “heartworms” mostly reside in the arteries in the lungs and run with the simile.

However, this same ability turns reality into a nightmare, where paranoia is justifiable by the sheer number of negative outcomes that can be thought up for every action and its reaction. It whirs, an overclocked CPU, taking the smallest pieces of information and expanding it, tracing it’s origin, route to the present, and the many ways it can meander into the future to significance or none, wanted or not. I cannot control when it decides to run off on these tangents– They can be summoned when needed, but once they appear, they cannot be stopped. If this process takes a dark turn, it can end with me turning into an angry, suspicious, cynical, inconsolable mess and there is really no way to properly explain how or why to most individuals. Not only does my mind run in all directions– it has the sadistic ability to convince me that whatever conclusion it comes to is right, or at least has a high enough possibility of being right that it will cause me to worry and take precaution.

My mind has the remarkable ability to synthesize the past, future, scenarios, sensations, reasoning, logic at a speed that would shame a cheetah. Despite the above problems, it does come in handy, and not only with school. A large part of why I am a writer has to do with the fact that if I try hard enough and harness that power, I can hack my way into a character’s mind to the point I feel the stitches of their clothing over my skin, the weight of their jewelry, know the breadth of their shoulders and how they have to move because of their shape and build, their inflections when they speak and the sound of their voice. I know their biases, their fears, their reasoning. Due to this immersion technique, I will pick up moods and mannerisms for whomever I am writing occasionally. Hell, I’ve been told I have a certain expression on my face when I write some of my best loved characters. I can synthesize a person from a touch of perfume, a tea, a turn of phrase. It’s alchemy. Beautiful, glorious alchemy of a god, where I turn not lead into gold, but clay into flesh.

My mind eats input, craves stimulation, and consumes itself when left idle, usually for the worst. My… sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

For those of you that aren’t familiar with Sherlock Holmes or House, both are brilliant detectives and utterly kick ass at what they do– they can solve things no one else can solve. They also are drug addicted, eccentric, and a complete and utter bitch to get along with.

It is arrogance to compare myself to those two, lowly being that I am. However, even in my most self loathing of moods, I can see similarities. I have a dangerous fondness for alcohol and painkillers that (thankfully) is kept carefully in check and under constant watch by myself and my dearest. I have eccentric tendencies. Where House sets the hospital on fire or Holmes lures flies into a bottle to experiment with how they react to his violin, I have been known to write compulsively on any flat reflective surface I can find and mutter River-esqe nonsense while gnawing my nails and lips until they bleed.

I suppose it is their kinship, perhaps, that is so calming. Their sound flowing of ideas and reasoning, the timbre of their voices as they explain their latest theory. Their own immersions into the minds of the criminals they’re chasing or the patients they’re treating. Or perhaps it is simply the fact that when Holmes and House go off on their flights of reasoning, it ends well. It doesn’t turn around and impale them. Usually. Perhaps it is even more soothing when it does.

Maybe what is most comforting is that for all of the shit that has happened to me, how people seem to avoid me, how I seem to have some repellent air about me, people like me can be useful. Needed. Needed enough that what little relief simply drugging myself into a stupor or worse can provide from the constant tangled blur inside me, I am worth more to the world awake, alert, functioning. Useful enough that someday, I will find where I am needed, much as House and Holmes have. Somewhere I am needed that will keep my mind active, awake, and busy so it does not consume itself. Somewhere that prevents the consumption and destruction without halting my mind or blood completely.

The first is mentioned because it’s what I’ll be rambling about, the second is mentioned because it is part of the reason why I’m up at 6:35 AM writing a freaking blog because I can’t sleep. Yay having a sensitive stomach, eh?

So, here I am, on a highly uncomfortable couch in a friend’s apartment because I’m maid of honor in her wedding and we’re going to a wedding show today. This lovely friend lives with two other girls, another one that is getting married soon as well, and another that doesn’t believe in marriage. As she put it “I’m just going to have fuck buddies the rest of my life. *Shrug*”

Got me to thinking. What is all this hoopla surrounding marriage?

I mean, I get that for a lot of women it’s the one day that they get to flip shit and do whatever they want, and if that includes being brought in on a white sleigh with horses and snow in June, they will freaking do it, never mind how much debt it puts them in. There’s a fair lot of folk out there that say “I have the wedding planned, now I just need the groom” or, worse “I just want to have a wedding!” My friend isn’t like this, thank god, but does this depress anyone else?

I mean, I realize I have a unique perspective: Where I live, I’m not allowed to get married, because two sets of boobies in a relationship is just too much for the Midwest to handle. In my own personal journey of why I should give a fuck about being ABLE to marry my dear girl I’ve discovered a awful big pros to being able to:

1. If I’m knocked the fuck out on a hospital bed, my medical proxy defaults to her, not my parents. Big plus.
2. If either of us get a call of “OHFUCKSHITWENTBAD” and rush to the hospital, neither of us can be shut out under the “family only” bullshit. We’ve discussed this, being the morbid folk we are: If we’re dying, we want the other one there. Period. Sadly, without a(n) (honored) marriage certificate, if they really wanted to, they could shut me out. I can’t deal with that.
3. Suddenly, insurance becomes a lot easier. MANY things become a lot easier, actually.
4. It has the added societal bonus of “It doesn’t matter if you or your church recognize my commitment or who I am– the legal system does. Blow me.”

The first two are the main ones, but the third and forth are awful nice all on their own. Especially that last one.

Here’s what baffles me: A lot of straight folks seem to take this for granted. It’s all about the wedding. The marriage doesn’t factor in. For me, the wedding is just an excuse to have a huge-ass party with all my friends and get to wear over the top clothes I WISH I could wear on a day to day basis. It’s not the main event, and it’s CERTAINLY not worth getting my ass in debt for. I have school for that.

I’m not one of those girls that has been planning my wedding since I was three, and there’s only so much hemming and hawing over place settings I can take before I go “THEY’RE FUCKING NAPKINS, JUST PICK A FUCKING COLOR!”

In the process of helping my friend get ready for hers, I’m realizing just how much that above fact sets me apart from a lot of people. I originally was going to say “sets me apart from a lot of girls” but that implies I belong to that group in some way, which I really… don’t. I sure as hell don’t describe myself as transgender in the sense that I identify as the opposite gender from my sex, but I really don’t identify with that whole…. “girl” thing. Or that whole “boy” thing. Love of make-up and clothes keeps me from identifying as wholly masculine, and love of a being a force “as loud as God’s revolver and twice as shiny” and some of my distinct lackings in femininity keep me from identifying as feminine.

I never realized quite how much that matters until I was in the middle of a group of traditional *girls* that to my knowledge, have no gender conflicts, giggling and squealing over wedding things. There’s just something in the *way* they behave that is distinctly alien to me. I haven’t been that way since high school and… sometimes I miss it. I wish for it now so I could be squealing along with them the way normal girls seem to. I really, really don’t want to fail the wonderful woman that made me her maid of honor. I don’t want to make her feel like I don’t care. It’s just that honestly… something in my brain doesn’t understand how you can pour over things like dresses and colors for so long without a break. I know some of it is that it’s *your* wedding, not mine, but… the traditional floof and tittering is really just lost on my dumb ass that doesn’t understand when my girlfriend facepalms because I eat my ramen out of the pot I cook it in because in my heathen mind, bowls are unnecessary. I mean, the pot is a bowl. It’s even warm! And has a convenient carrying handle! How cool is that?!

WARNING: This post is going to piss people off. No, seriously. It deals heavily with religion. If that bothers you, run now. Don’t bother flaming me, getting upset. We’re not going to agree. I don’t expect you to agree with me, nor should you expect me to agree with you. Don’t waste your time. Thanks.


I’m fed up. Look, I know I’ve been going post happy lately, but goddamn if this doesn’t piss me off.

Here’s the back story: A building containing an adult novelty store burned down in my town. No one was hurt, and it looks like the cause was accidental. The firemen were awesome in responding, all that. That’s all great. However, I’m about ready to drop kick me some holier than thou twats that live in my town.

An example of this foolishness, a letter to my local paper. I’m replacing the town name with Townsville, because I don’t want you people to know where I live and hunt me down:

“Hey, why didn’t the [newspaper] just call it what it was, a pornography store?

Why do you sanitize this type of business? Why do you make it sound so nice and clean, so polite and quaint for the good folks of Townsville?

This business was a blight and an embarrassment for the area, and sadly, one that exploits and dehumanizes people. Pornography is proved statistically to be a contributing factor for criminal behaviors such as rape and sexual assault. It makes women “things” and not real human people. It also makes other people very rich and powerful at their expense.

If this fire had struck another type of business, you wouldn’t be afraid to call it a liquor store, or a food store, or a hardware store. So why not call it what it really was: a pornography store? Everyone talking about the fire story in Townsville spoke of the porn store that burned up, not the cute sounding “adult novelty store.””

People have been wailing on the owner of this store, calling it a “blight” on the city, making jokes about melting blow up dolls, and generally being the most disrespectful pricks you’ll ever come across. If this was a coffee shop that had burned down, we’d hear people “praying for those that lost their livelihood.” Because it’s a store that sold some very nice adult toys and videos, apparently, we should have thrown the employees and owners into the blaze to be rid of their “kind.”

No, I’m not making that up. In the comments section of one of the articles on this, someone said that anyone that would work at a sex shop is “disgusting.” Really? Really now? Why?

***AUTHOR’S NOTE: I apologize now to you good, SANE Christians. You guys that practice kindness and tolerance and know what a vibrator is and don’t begrudge others getting off with one, or hell, even use one yourself. I KNOW you exist. None of this tirade applies to you. I’m not for religion, but clearly you guys get the faith thing and it WORKS for you. Run with it. More power to you. Just skip the rest of this post. Seriously. It’s just going to piss you off. *****

Oh, but I’m being stupid again. It’s all because I wasn’t born and raised to believe that I’m going to burn in hell if I get enjoyment from sex. THAT’S why I’m such a heathen that I don’t believe this store is evil. So silly of me.

Now, this has been a vexation of mine for a long time, this demonization of sex we have in this country. It can be traced back to those fun-loving Puritans that first came to this country, methinks. You know, those same people that thought it was a sin to dance, have music, use your imagination (note: that last one was stolen from my Shakespeare professor, and I haven’t found documentation of that one just yet, but damnit, I will), and in the words of House, thought drama and plays were “the way the devil gets inside you (points if you get that reference and name the episode).” They were laughed out of England for their bitching about theatre, thus they came here to steal other people’s land and live out their miserable, tuneless, sexless lives.

Of course, they’re not all to blame. The idea that sex = evil is rather prominent in most branches of Christianity. The majority of the U.S. is Christian. Thus, the majority of America seems to have this belief, and the type of bullshit that is contained in the letter above happens.

My question is: Why? Why, exactly, is it that Christians fear sex so much at every single point in their lives? The antiquated insanity of “no sex before marriage” is a special type of lunacy to discuss another time, but what about just in general? I’ve been trying to come up with something for years, and all I can come up with is that the Church really, really hates anything that causes pleasure.

Here’s my theory on religion: It was created to control the masses when just threatening to beat your ass for killing someone didn’t cut it anymore. They needed some bigger, better punishment. Punishment that lasted a really, REALLY long time. All you have to do is create a mystical figure to do the punishing and BOOM. You can get people to stand in line because if they don’t, powers far more mighty than mere man shall smite them!

See, all that, I get. I really do. Human groups need order, and that order needs to be kept by having rules that are enforced. If people don’t fear consequences of breaking rules, everything goes to hell. I GET that. It keeps the rapin’, murderin’, and cuttin’ on yer own face down. More bonus points if you get THAT reference.

But why the hell police consenting sex?! Why?! What the hell do they get out of it? You cannot tell me that Adam and Eve never got it on. According to Christian mythology, they HAD to. Where’d all these Christians come from, otherwise?! Now, we can run with the idea that before the fall they never did. Sure. But why do we need to think that? Why is lust, what is necessary to create life, a deadly sin?

All I’ve got is that it makes people hate themselves, and therefore become obsessed with what they can do to somehow “fix” whatever it is they are talked into believing is wrong with them. And HEY! You know who knows how to fix it? All those nice people in that big pointy building. Who told you it was wrong in the first place. That’s why you police carnal desire, unavoidable emotions and impulses, because if you make them hate themselves for what they cannot control, blame themselves for what they naturally are, and then claim that only you have the keys to fixing it all, they’ll run to you for all the answers. You own them. They will do whatever you tell them to make their “dirty” and “disgraceful” selves better. Yeah. You know who else does this type of brainwashing? Abusers. Check this out:

As defined by the United States Department of Justice:

Emotional Abuse: Undermining an individual’s sense of self-worth and/or self-esteem. This may include, but is not limited to constant criticism, diminishing one’s abilities, name-calling, or damaging one’s relationship with his or her children.

Psychological Abuse: Causing fear by intimidation; threatening physical harm to self, partner, children, or partner’s family or friends; destruction of pets and property; and forcing isolation from family, friends, or school and/or work.


Now, those are the definitions for those as they pertain to domestic violence, but it sounds eerily like what the church does: It tells you over and over again you’re worthless/damaged, intimidates you with threats of a place of torture especially if you question them or disagree with them (silly heretics)… you get the idea.

Okay, now all you people about to flame me and yell “CHURCH ISN’T LIKE THAT! THEY DO GOOD!” tell me this: If an abusive spouse works for a charity and feeds the poor, should we not punish them for beating their spouse to death? Can any amount of good deeds really wipe away the stain of convincing people they are worthless? Defective? Damaged?

You know, I started this post to rail into people that hated sex for no reason other than they were told it was bad. In wandering down the road of why anyone would possibly believe that madness, I’ve found why it is the church pisses me off so much.

What all of that rant was supposed illustrate is how absurd the fear and hatred of sex is that makes people call this legitimate business a “blight” and laugh at the fact that people lost their livelihood and jobs.

I’ll get into the hating on porn another day. What pisses me off is that this business is being mocked and jeered at, kicked, and it’s employees and patrons pissed on because in this damned society, sex is evil.

And it’s all because an abusive entity bent on controlling minds told people so, and they believed them.

Remember, kids: Religions are just cults with more members. And better public relations.


Here is a much smarter person than I disputing the idea that the church, most specifically, the Catholic Church, is a force of good in the world. I give you, the glorious Stephen Fry. This man raises many of the points I do here, but far more eloquently than a verbal klutz like myself could ever hope to do. If you don’t listen to me, listen to him.

Part 1 of 2: Stephen Fry

Wait, what?

Top Ten Words Looked Up On Merriam-Webster Online:

1. Pretentious
2. Ubiquitous
3. Love
4. Cynical
5. Apathetic
6. Conundrum
7. Albeit
8. Ambiguous
9. Integrity
10. Affect/Effect

Source/Sauce (depending on what corner of the internet you’re from):

This is utterly strange to me. I have known at least eight of those words since I was maybe thirteen. Ubiquitous I had to double-check the definition on, but I at least had a vague idea. The affect/effect difference I had bludgeoned into me at fifteen. Albeit I use a good deal, though sometimes I mangle the spelling terribly and have to look it up in my spell check.

Here’s my thing: As many thirteen year olds as are in the internet, I don’t think they could make those the top words all on their own. That means older folk are looking them up too. Now, I realize I was a weird kid that read too much, but SERIOUSLY?

What the hell is going on here?

Yes, yes, complaining about education going to hell in a hand basket with a cheeseburger and side of fries is not new, but this managed to significantly freak me out. I consider most of those common vocabulary words. One of my favorite insults is calling folk with an overblown sense of entitlement/their own importance a “pretentious prick,” part because it’s true, part because alliteration is fun. While some of these can be explained by assholes like me using them in forum conversations to demonstrate a point, (Ex: integrity, love.
“Integrity is defined by Merriam-Webster Online as having ‘firm adherence to a code of especially moral or artistic values.’ You cannot claim you have integrity, as framed by the chivalric code, and then tell a woman she deserves to suffer whatever happens to her because she ‘got out of the kitchen.'” Yes, I’m that jerk.) , a lot of them cannot be as easily.

This bothers me a good deal, probably because my train of thought goes like this:

“If you don’t read enough to know those words at least by context clues, if not the formal definition, then you have little exposure to any world other than your own. You also have little exposure to any viewpoints other than your own and those people you keep close to you. Therefore, you probably don’t exercise your mind by trying to see from someone different’s perspective that often and are unaccustomed to thinking that deeply because you have never had to, which means you are painfully easy to manipulate. Wow. No wonder Bush got elected twice then those same people complained endlessly about him, and people are surprised when Obama hasn’t fulfilled his campaign promises– Not only do they blindly believe what they are told, they cannot see from any viewpoint other than the one they are taught by the people around them from birth so they cannot put themselves in anyone’s shoes to see WHY something isn’t working or isn’t a good idea. No wonder we’re all doomed if we have to depend on the common person’s vote. They can be easily manipulated into voting however the politicians want because they cannot think for themselves.” Long and winding train of thought, probably not entirely sound in reasoning, but I don’t think it’s too much of a leap.

Suddenly, I think I have found the answer to the rampant bipartisanship in America. I’m terrified. You know what, how about we scale back all those shiny earmarks and use the money that is currently going to politician’s pet projects for something else. Hey, let’s dock the salaries of professional athletes too, if we need some extra cash. Let’s pay teachers a better wage. Let’s get kids exposed to a variety of books, cultures, movies. Let’s get teachers that will discuss all of those things, the biases involved, why those biases exist, and how to see past them as well as our OWN biases. Let’s get rid of that textbook monopoly they’ve got running in Texas. And most importantly, present all academic points of view and keep parents, their biases, their religions, their prejudices the HELL out of their kids’ education. Or, of course, we can take the easier, cheaper way out to shore up our failing schools, but that one requires parenting. Ready?

Make your kids read a goddamn book instead of blowing people up in Halo. It doesn’t matter if it’s books, comic books (try Maus by Art Spiegelman on for size if you’re worried about comics being valid literature), fantasy, romance, I don’t care. Have them read maybe ten minutes a day to start, then work their way up to a half hour or so. Start with picture books. Eventually they’ll get from there through Twilight or Harry Potter and start craving something bigger and more adult. And for god’s sake, let your kid read what they want. Nothing will kill your desire to read faster than your every choice being shot down by someone who “knows best.” Guide gently if you must, but for the most part, leave them alone.

Please, please, don’t let the film Idiocracy become reality. I know I’m a freak and over reacting, but damn if it doesn’t seem like there are distant warning knells that it is possible.

I got my first flame! :D

Omg. I got fun news yous guys!

I HAS A FLAME. And it’s on my “suicide is bullshit” post. It’s delicious. It’s wonderful. I love it. And, future reference, yes, all of your comments are free game for a new blog post. Here’s my shiny new flame:

“I’m a writer. I’m currently finishing a novel, about 50,000 words left to write. I then have to do the rewrites of my first two novels, that’s about 100,00 words each. After that, assuming no other worthwhile projects intervene, I’ll be responding to this post.

I mention the other writing projects not to show off, but rather to give you — and anyone else who may be reading — an idea of the sheer scale of the project it will be to explain and correct every bullshit statement in this post.”

Now, let’s deconstruct this. He (the name attached was masculine, though it doesn’t matter *who* it was) first has to mention how very busy he is. Then why are you here? And then he says he’s not trying to brag– that tells me the very opposite.

Explain and correct every bullshit statement? XD You can try, skippy. I encourage it. However, my opinion has the advantage of being… my opinion. If you want to show off your internet cock by beating up on an unknown blogger, you can go right ahead, I’m just going to enjoy the lulz. So please, please, respond. Humor is one of my very favorite spices of life.

Okay, so this guy came to my blog on his own. I’m not a celebrity. I’m not even all that interesting. And this was the *first* post I ever made… that means he either had to go searching for it, or he came to it from one of the tags. Okay, fine. But I’m still a bit perplexed– if it’s going to be such a massive effort to “correct” me, why are you doing it when you are *clearly* so busy? And, furthermore, what the hell are you trying to prove? NO ONE READS THIS. There are 90 views to date. Aside from a couple kind friends that think I’m amusing, NO ONE SEES THIS. I hate to tell you, but your, I’m sure, argumentative genius is going to go to waste. So, if you’re not putting it up for anyone to see… BUT WAIT, YOU ARE!

“I mention the other writing projects not to show off, but rather to give you — and anyone else who may be reading…”

Okay, so your goal is to humiliate me in front of an audience. Noble aspirations. Oh yeah. Totally. One can argue I’m doing the same thing by posting this, but the difference is, I’m not doing it in any way that can be linked back to you. I was going to leave your comment approved, but you know what, I’m not out for a personal vendetta. I just want to ROFLCOPTER at you and others like you that honestly think that it is *so* important that you go hunt down an unknown blogger and try to make them feel inferior to make you feel better about yourself. If someone wanted to, I don’t want them to be able to harass you. I choose to put myself out there to be harassed. One can argue that anyone that posts on a public forum agrees to such things, but you know what? I’m gonna be nice and save you from looking like an absolute fool in front of lots of people.

So, why do people do this? Well, I’ve got some theories.

1.”Are you coming to bed?” “No.” “Why?” “Someone is WRONG on the internet!” -XKCD

Now, ignoring that entire thing on right and wrong being subjective, here’s my theory on this type of person: They really do think they are right. That they are somehow “improving” someone’s lives by “enlightening them.” In fact, I know these people quite well. I’m one of them. Thankfully, I’ve got a girlfriend to smack me when I do this on other people’s websites. My own? Sure. Someone else’s? No. Unless it’s something like racism, antisemitism, homophobia, etc. I get a swat. Why? Because if I don’t agree with you on religion, abortion, whatever, it’s fine you have a different view, because you know what? Your religion, your body, etc. However, when you start imposing your views on other people, like making laws that discriminate against folk or prevent them from having full control over their body? Then I can fight with you. After I think if it’s really worth wasting my energy on you. Usually, it’s not. However in my feisty, Irish hot temper, usually it takes me a head swat after ranting to realize that.

2. “They see me trollin’. They be hatin’.”
The guy could just be a troll, provoking for the sake of provoking. Maybe he just *really* needs to manipulate someone’s emotions to feel important. That’s how it is with most of them. Or they just find joy out of making people angry over stupid shit. My blog just happened to be the target of the day. However, one note: I hang out on 4chan, dudes. I’ve seen some horrible shit from freaking *professional level* trolls, if there could be such a thing. It’s pretty hard to really offend me anymore. I’ve just gotten used to it. You’ll get a rise out of me, sure– but then I’ll just write humorous/pondering posts such as this one. 😀

My bet for this guy, with a pinch of option one thrown in. Something I said pissed this guy off (congrats, you responded to a post I made intentionally inflammatory, even though it actually does sync up with my opinions! Troll point for me.) And he dashed off the first angry argle bargle that came into his head, promising to come back and get me later. My guess is he’ll either stew and make a post full of ridiculous emotion driven arguments or forget all about this.

All of these options leave me with one real question: Why is it he kept reading if it pissed him off so much? Was it just one of those train wreck moments, maybe? Why comment at all, how the hell is it going to change what’s been posted on the internet for months now?

So, readers, tell me about your flaming experiences, toss me more theories, leave me a flame to keep me warm. I’m cold, it’s below zero where I am. 🙂


A lovely lady I follow on Twitter named thekelliejane wrote a blog post (Found here: http://www.punditleague.us/editorials/do-you-suck-at-twitter-i-can-help/ ) that got me thinking.

Her suggestions are legit if you have a multitude of followers, like celebrity multitude, but… really?

Here’s the thing with twitter, at least for me: If you’re a good enough sport to put up with my particular brand of stupidity, awesome! If not… leave. I’m not about to try to change how I post things simply to get more followers. The hell is the point? I realize I’m not important enough to the internet for anyone to give a shit what I say, let alone how I say it.

I know, I know, she’s giving courtesy tips. I agree with them mostly. However, the idea that someone can suck at twitter is foreign to me. It’s like saying people suck at using the phone. I realize some DO, but it’s not really important unless your job is answering the phone/calling people/etc. I guess the point of all this is that unless you really, REALLY want that army of followers, why the fuck does it matter? Use twitter however the hell you want. If that means you have conversation over @ tweets with your friend about pancakes, do it. If you have a lot to say? Post multiple tweets. No internet twitter using ninjas are going to pop out of the sky and say you’re wrong. I won’t care, if I’m following you, mostly because if I’m following someone, they already amuse me. Thus, I don’t mind knowing what they think about pancakes.

Point is, folks, use social media however you want. This is the internet. There are no rules. And remember, honestly, we’re all insignificant. That invisible massive audience out there isn’t really watching you, so feel free to talk about pancakes and tweet about popcorn necklaces all you want.



Oh gods, here we go again. Those damn gays are taking over entertainment! RUN! RUUUUN!

Where’d I find this absurdity? Doesn’t matter. Take that up with twitter. Here’s what does matter: why is it perfectly fine that Willow and Tara, 13 and her girlfriend for an episode, whatever, kiss but if two individuals with two peni between them do, the world will end?

Ohhh, wait. I forgot what is truly so threatening about “teh gay,” especially the boy variety: it undermines masculinity, which is so dreadfully important in this society.

Think about it. Who’s admired by men? Boys, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it the “stud,” the jock that can lift the most, or, among the nerds, someone with intellectual power like Stephan Hawking? Aren’t male oriented videogames games like Halo, Call of Duty, Metal Gear? Aren’t they military based? Aren’t soldiers supposed to be the perfect men?

Ah, shit, but I’m edging too close to the military, and that gets into my ranting about Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. To nip that in the bud, I don’t think it matters whose butt you stare at, you wanna serve your country, you should be allowed to do it, the end. Back to the point at hand.

The view of relationships is that there are two roles: masculine and feminine. This is based upon the fact that society tends to cast relationships in male/female roles, understandably, because heterosexuality is the norm. Therefore, if you have a gay relationship, someone’s gotta be the girl. We can’t have that.

But why does it matter? Well, go back to my post on gender. If one man is allowed to kiss boys, to be what is perceived as “feminine,” then that means that… *gasp* … you don’t have to be “masculine” to be a man! OH GODS. It doesn’t matter if this perception is correct or not, some gay couples are very one is masculine, one feminine, but some aren’t. So are some heterosexual couples. But the point is, it pisses off men to have a man, ANY man, do something girly because it undermines what they view is important, which is being considered masculine. Again, go back to my gender post. It is really all explained in there.

However, two girls kiss, it’s like a double dose of feminine. Straight men tend to view it as “hot” because they don’t see a masculine and feminine there, from what folk have told me. They just see two girls kissing. It only matters when guys kiss because then, the couple thing kicks in and their brains start screaming that “THAT AIN’T RIGHT! COVER THE CHILDREN’S EYES! THEY MIGHT CATCH TEH GAY, WHICH WOULD MAKE IT OKAY FOR BOYS TO SEW AND SING SHOW TUNES!”

So, why is it a problem that boys kiss on tv? Those that hold up masculinity as important, as an ideal, are threatened by what is considered “abnormal” interrupting their main stream TV program, because that means that it is becoming more acceptable. Thus, they can’t beat up on the girly kid at school anymore and have everyone laugh with them. It means that the rest of the world doesn’t explicitly agree with their point of view that men have to be men or they are worthless.

Let’s face it, a male view still dominates in a lot of ways. I hate to admit it, but it does. Thus, this is a big fucking deal, because, frankly, they can’t fap to two men kissing. It makes them feel all bad inside, because if it’s acceptable, their grunting, neolithic mind state is wrong, or at the very least, not completely correct. This can upset some people’s entire LIVES, if they have been practicing to be “a real man!” their whole lives. It screws with their ENTIRE perception of reality. So what is their solution?

That’s easy. Beat it with a stick until it dies. That’s what “real men” would do, right?

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