One of my esteemed colleagues wrote a great piece on texting etiquette. I recently wrote a biting piece about Papa Joe. This piece is about etiquette, too. After reading my Papa Joe piece (hopefully they read it in its entirety), a commentator, named ‘Haha,’ quipped, “you’re just a jealous peon,” to which I replied (in two posts) “nope, Haha, sure ain’t . . . I’m glad [the Simpsons are] rich. That’s great for them. But their father is a tool. Oh, one other thing . . . I LOVE the word peon. It’s great fun, conjures up great images . . . thanks!”

First, I do love the word peon. It’s nasty. It’s blunt. It’s cutting. People don’t use the word peon a lot, so I liked the reminder that the word peon exists. Reminds me of my old father (he’s a judge). He calls people peons and ninnies all the time – those words are funny, and I always chuckle when he coughs them up. BUT I digress (you’re probably getting used to that).

Now some of my fellow bloggers might wonder why I waste my time responding to remarks, whether good or bad, and why I’m even bothering to write this piece. Well, first off, I wish to thank Haha for inspiring me to do so. Because I’ve spent a lot of time (yes, it’s true) thinking about internet etiquette, how people are quick to insult (yes, I’m just as guilty, stirrin’ up crap, criticizing Mr. Simpson, etc.), name-calling, and even verbally terrorizing others on web posts. Read More »

Well, the College Candy commenters have spoken, and you know what girls? You’re totally right (Of course you are!).

I thought I had this roommate situation all under control. I decided it was a bad idea, I told him it was a bad idea, but that we could discuss it further if necessary, and keep an open mind.

Apparently the words “discuss it further” and “bad idea” entered this boy’s head and came out sounding like “let’s make out some more“.

The other night I got home late from work, tired and cranky. I wanted nothing more than to sit on my couch, watch crappy TV and eat a vegan cupcake. Is that so much to ask?

As I was getting ready for bed, he was the only one left in our living room. I walked past him en route from the bathroom to my bedroom, and he grabbed me by the arm, pulled me towards him and practically stuck his tongue down my throat. He had just smoked a cigarette, and kissing him was like licking an ash tray.

“I just brushed my teeth!” I hissed, yanking myself away and hoping our other roommates wouldn’t hear. He pulled me in again, this time kissing my neck, as if this would make me forget all about the fact that he just AMBUSHED me. I pulled away yet again and went straight to my room, shutting the door behind me. Read More »