attribution

In the post titled "Fair and Balanced" I employed a line I heard in a great play DSG recommended called "The Vertical Hour." The line is in the final scene and comes from a disgruntled student who tells Julianne Moore's character that she is in fact pissed off at the world because she just found out her boyfriend has taken up with a girl who "looks like she eats shit with a dirty spoon."

In my entry, I liken a pointless exchange with DSG to: "washing your hands before eating shit with a dirty spoon." I don't equate that with plagiarism but in the interest of honesty, it wasn't entirely my brain child.

An Olive Branch for the Peanut Gallery

I just want to apologize to the folks in the peanut gallery who I admonished. That is, if they're still reading. A friend recently awakened me to the idea that I was being really immature about it all and I have to say I agree.

I'll admit the negative observations can be annoying but they are just that- observations. As a reporter, I'm supposed to cultivate sources so I can gain more insight. It's a bit ironic that I'm so adamantly opposed to feedback when it's directed at me in such a public forum.

So make your comments, take a few jabs here and there. After all, if I didn't want people to judge, I probably should have just stuck with my journal.

Fair and Balanced

What does it say about you when your boss insists you see your therapist? Today I was juggling a few projects after falling behind and I called my boss to tell her that I wouldn't be leaving the office for my afternoon appointment after all. "No," she said, "you should go." My PMS symptoms were beginning to reach water cooler status. And so I went. I was in rare form. I was pissed off.

Beverly noted the intensity of my anger and said as much. "Why the fuck are women such bitches to each other?" I demanded. This was prompted by two readers who after seeing that I was at a low point, decided to kick me while I was down. This is how women differ from the other sex. If a guy blogged about how a woman he had feelings for had rebuffed him enough times to tear at his self-esteem and force him to take a step back, his guy friends would be like, "Fuck her, man." But what do we do? "You are what you eat." "Maybe he resents you." I mean what the fuck is that?

HPG saw my venomous response and responded with, "WHOA!!" telling me I was too harsh and I would turn off my readership. But that only fueled my fury. I'm not vying for readers! It's not like I'm profiting from how many hits this exploration in self-indulgent public whining is getting. So for those of you who don't know the rules of this blogger, allow me to enlighten you. One- tell me what you think. Feel free to call me on my shit. But don't fucking expect me to publish caustic observations made without any basis in fact. Until now, I've published everything because, unlike Fox News, I believe in being fair and balanced which means total transparency. That said, I don't have to publicize your animus towards me, so don't be an asshole. Two.. there's not really another rule. Don't be an asshole just about covers it.

DSG. Dear, wonderfully engaging, maddeningly resistant DSG. He likes the caustic comments. He loves it when my feathers are ruffled. Today we had a lengthy IM exchange in our 115th attempt to clear the air. The whole process is like washing your hands before eating shit with a dirty spoon. Pointless and disingenuous to boot. I can't wrap my head around what may ultimately prove to be my core truth. I'm not in a relationship because I'm the one who is afraid of intimacy. Nah, that's not right. Anyone who really knows me, knows that I'm generous, affectionate and...neurotic and.. needy...and demanding. All within reason, of course.

But if I'm really, really honest about this (deep breath) it boils down to the fact that I've really only been in love once in my life. That's not easy to admit especially when you consider that I've been engaged twice. Not to mention Mo with whom I broke up before he officially proposed. But even my husband, I didn't really love. I loved the idea of him. And my first fiance was an angel who adored me but I remember constantly complaining about being afflicted with S.A.D.D. (sexual attention deficit disorder). That's not an actual condition, at least not one I'm aware of, it's more of a description of my tendency to question if we were out of milk or bread while we were..he was.. well let's not make me break my rule of abstaining from discussing my sex life in detail. My point is that I'm either settling for men who don't stimulate me or am simply afraid of the ones who do. Does that make sense?