Last time, I told you about my oh-so-lovely hallmates, who chose to cover my board with hateful words. When misogynistic and sexist words come into it, I’ve officially stopped being willing to roll over. I emailed the floor’s RCA, who passed me on to the dean of student life. I spoke with the dean and ultimately an email and letter was circulated indicating such behavior was not to be tolerated. After that, the words disappeared and the images stopped showing up — for a while, and I thought that would be the end of it. But the hallmates from hell kept finding more ways to be the rudest human beings I’ve ever crossed paths with.

One night at four a.m. the whole group came banging back from a wild night at one of the eating clubs. One girl and one guy had gotten into some sort of argument, and they decided to have it out — right in front of my door. For an hour I heard screaming of “YOU ARE A BAD PERSON! A BAD PERSON!” And the barked reply, “JUST FORGET IT AND GO TO BED!” immediately followed by the “YOU ARE A BAD PERSON!” again. My boyfriend emailed the rca to complain. Later that week, I was returning from a late shower, only wearing a towel, and found the whole group of freshmen clustered around my door, talking loudly. When I said “excuse me,” they ignored me. When I started pushing at people, they still ignored me. I had to shout at the top of my lungs and push at the same time, clutching my towel, just to get them to move. I still don’t know if they were purposefully being difficult, or just were oblivious, but it made me feel oddly threatened and vulnerable, as if they were determined not to recognize me as a human being. Read More »

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 »

• Telling your parents your new boyfriend is an Eagle Scout isn’t as appealing now, is it? (clickondetroit.com)

• UMass student gets C, sues school, is total crybaby. Is also as old as our father. Gross. (boston.com)

• Atlantic City Mayor goes AWOL. Atlantic City resident appoints himself new mayor. (kyw.com)

• Stop being rude at work…everyone’s talking about you. (jhu.edu)

• This is the best dog I’ve ever seen! (UK Dailymail)

• Three hilarious scenes from one of the best comedies ever. Plus, I love Paul Rudd. (COED Magazine)

• Sunday is National Porn Sunday. This (and some other) churches are totally celebrating. Awkward. (nwfdailynews.com)

I live in New York City. Therefore, I should be used to Random Acts of Rudeness. Small things should no longer phase me. But because I am a nice, sweet, mostly polite girl, I am still very often radically offended and crazily frustrated by rude people acting obnoxiously. Here are a few examples of my most recent run-ins with RAR.

• At a job interview, the interviewer answers his blackberry not once, not twice, but three times in the middle of my answers to his questions. No sorry, hold on a moment, just a complete switch from looking at me and listening to typing away on his stupid toy. Each time he would chuckle at whatever inside joke was taking place on the tiny screen, leaving me nothing to do but admire the bare walls and stare out the window. Needless to say, I’m taking that job the day hell freezes over. Read More »