Whatever.

Two questions today, Internet.

That’s it.

Two simple questions.

Question the One: When you see a sign that says, “Take one,” do you read the sign as saying something like, “Hey! A basket of free things! Go ahead! Take one for yourself! And MY, do you look pretty today!”

OR

“Take one. ONE. Take just ONE. You can’t see me, but I am here, and I am watching you, and I will know if you take more than one. I will KNOW. The sign says take ONE and that BETTER be all you take.”

AND

Does the inclusion or exclusion of an exclamation point change your opinion in any way?

Question the Two: When you see something in a book that says “Blah blah blah (read: blah), blah blah blah,” how do you mentally hear the word “read?”

Is it read, like sounds like “deed,”

OR

read, like sounds like “dead?”

You guys, I need to know the answers to these questions.

• Do you see that picture there? That is what happens if I skip one day of vacuuming. And I am not talking about “good housekeeper” kind of vacuuming. I mean, I take the hose attachment and point it at the most obvious fur clumps in the main rooms only. This does not include the carpeted rooms (oh god), or the rooms no one sees, or even a full on vacuum of the public areas. That is one day of obvious Sheldon tumbleweeds. Given that I empty the Dyson at least once a day, and the way Sheldon looks at the moment, we are actually getting kind of concerned. Now, I know that your dog lost more fur/less fur and was just fine/died a horrible bald death, and I’m very happy/sad to hear that. But we are kind of concerned about Dr. Cooper and his glorious, shining majesty.

• I got some news yesterday that was the saddest news I have ever heard. Do you guys remember Petpoolooza last year? You know, with the pool? And dogs? And Brinkley came in second in the long jump? COME ON.

He was IN the PAPER.

Anyway, I was HUGELY looking forward to going again this year, especially to finally get to see Sheldon swim. He loves water and it was going to be AWESOME. And just yesterday? Phil told me that this year’s Petpoolooza is going to be on October 2nd. I was planning on heading out to PA at the end of September, because the bridal shop keeps calling me about scheduling some fittings and I suppose it’s not something I can put off forever. I was so sad. In fact, I am actually going to call the bridal shop as soon as I am done here, to ask them what the absolute latest they can start fitting my dress might be. I will explain about Petpoolooza, of course. They’ll understand.

• So, when we go grocery shopping, I try to plan out the meals we will eat for a week or so, and I usually stick to the same few websites for recipes. I like to make low cost recipes, and finding sites that understand that just because you are on a budget does not mean that you have to only eat beans, mac and cheese and hot dogs is not always easy. I’ve been lucky enough to find a few budget cooking websites that do not rely on those same old staples for inexpensive eating, which is good, because I do not like beans OR mac and cheese OR hot dogs. I do like rice, though. We will all (dogs included) eat the shit out of some rice. Anyway, because I knew you’d be interested, here are some of the recipes I am making/trying over the next week or so:
  • Chicken Fried Rice – I’ve made this a bunch of times. We like it a lot.
  • Veggie Pasta Bake – We haven’t tried this one before, but it’s got a bunch of stuff we like in it, so why not? Warning – this recipe does not contain meat, and I have learned that dinners that don’t contain meat are strange and nearly incomprehensible to some viewers.
  • Asian Sticky Wings – Another we haven’t tried yet, but dudes love meat on bones and I am automatically drawn to anything that is sure to allow me to make a horrific mess of myself, so we can’t lose.
  • Fried Round Steak – New. I don’t know why I am making this. I have never had a good experience with cube steak. But it’s meat and it’s fried, so even if it’s terrible, Phil will likely have eaten most of it before he notices. We’ll also have these potatoes, which are incredible, and you need to make them right now.
  • Cold Ramen Salad – WARNING WARNING WARNING NO MEAT NO MEAT (actually there’s ham, but I don’t promise to use it). Two meatless recipes in the same week. Also, we’ll be having white pizza one night as well, which is also meatless. You should probably report me to the meat council for abusing Phil by not providing a constant flow of meat.
  • Glazed Pork Chops – Either the linked recipe, which we haven’t tried, or a different one, which we have tried but isn’t overly… anything. I don’t know. I feel like flying by the seat of my pork.
  • Chicken Enchiladas – We like these a LOT. I think I link the recipe on Twitter every time I make them. I hope other people are trying them. It’s a lot for two people, but it’s good the next day, too. We usually have this simple Spanish rice with it, which is so easy it feels like cheating, or at least like it should taste like crap, but it doesn’t.

Anyway, some of those recipes I know are good, and the rest are probably pretty good when made by someone who knows how to cook, but will be pretty hit and miss for me. I’d say that I’ll let you know how it goes, but I hate making promises like that because I always forget.

• Speaking of not knowing how to cook, I have no idea how to brown ground beef properly. Sometimes it comes out just fine, exactly like I want, and sometimes it comes out gray and unappetizing. I have no idea what I’m doing differently the times that it works, but there’s got to be some kind of right way/wrong way instructional out there, right? This is the Internet. There is someone spelling out the ONE RIGHT WAY to do just about everything, if you look hard enough. I also don’t know how to toast buns for burgers and stuff without making the parts that should be soft all crispy and burned (toaster oven) or making the inside parts all soaked with butter and gross (frying pan).

So, that’s all the random stuff that I’ve got going on that doesn’t warrant a full blog post, but, seeing as how I assume you are all interested in every thought that passes through my head, I felt you all needed to know anyway.

What fragments of crap not related to any other crap in any meaningful way do you have going on right now?

I didn’t go into detail then and it seems silly to go into detail now, but the way that things went down that day could not have been more perfect, as far as I’m concerned.

I walked out of there and got in my car, and I headed home early in the day, and I called Phil to tell him. And then I laughed. I laughed all the way home, all the way through 495 and 270 and inexplicable mid-work day DC traffic.

Not because anything was particularly funny. But because I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt that good. “Good” seems to be a pretty generic, weak descriptor, but really – there’s not a better word for it. I felt good, and I couldn’t stop laughing.

Not comedic laughter, not nervous laughter, but “Holy crap, my life has gone from sucking so hard that my soul is leaking out through my pores day by day to 100% better in a split second” kind of laughter. I don’t know if that’s a real kind of laughter, but that’s what it was.

I went home and I sat on my bed, and I didn’t sit around thinking about what had happened. I played video games. I called my friends. And every once in a while, completely at random, I’d start laughing again. Just 24 hours earlier I don’t think I could have imagined my life being more miserable and difficult, and it was such a complete 180 that I almost felt like I had whiplash. The only negative feeling in the whole rest of that day was the sudden realization that I could have done this ages ago. That was the only down point in the most amazing day of my entire life.

Maybe I should say “days,” because as fantastic as that drive home was, and as surreal as the rest of that day was, waking up the next morning was a whole different kind of unbelievable.

I laughed some more. I posted on my blog. I stretched out on my bed and watched TV and played video games and never felt the slightest bit of guilt.

Well, maybe a little guilt, for the two employees that I considered to be friends that I left behind there, but – spoiler alert – neither of them work there any more, either.

It’s kind of hard, I guess, to pick one “best day” out of all of those, because it felt like one great big long “best day” stretched out over weeks.

It took a long time for that “best day” to wear off. Even now, I can still call up that exact feeling because, over a year and a half later, I am still that happy to no longer be in that situation.

There’s another side to it, too, though, where after a while, my glee started to be a bit tainted with anger – anger that a person would ever think it’s okay to treat people that way, anger about being lied to and about, and anger at myself for not walking out the door the first time I was called stupid.

Now, let that be a lesson to you, Internet – if your boss ever calls you stupid, just pack your shit and leave right then because even if you are stupid – which you’re not – no one can talk to you like that, even if in their own twisted world they believe it’s their right.

Anyway, Internet, the fact that I had that best day, even though that specific day is over, has allowed me to call up that feeling of overwhelming glee whenever I want. I can pull up that memory at any time, and I always smile, if not outright start laughing.

I know that if I ask you to tell me about your best days, I’m going to get a lot of “the day I got married” and “the day I had my kid,” but I want to hear more than that – not that those can’t count as best days, but I want to know why, specifically.

Because don’t get me wrong – I am excited to get married to Phil, and I’m looking forward to our wedding day, but I already know that making a happy situation somewhat happier is not going to top my already entrenched “best day.” It’s going to be a good day – a great day – for sure. But it’s not going to top the day I left that job.

So I want to hear about your best day ever, the one that you can’t imagine ever being topped – whether it was your wedding, or your kid (though I find it hard to believe that a day spent almost entirely in pain could qualify as best, but hey, I don’t have kids, so what do I know), or a day spent with friends, or when you won the lottery or just a day when every single thing seemed to go your way.

Let’s hear it, Internet. Tell me about the best day of your whole life.

Now, I admit that there are times when my irritation might be a bit irrational, like when I am bellowing at Phil, “STOP SAYING WORDS!,” but I am pretty convinced that while the level of annoyance I have felt over the past few days may be a bit amplified for reasons that have yet to reveal themselves, everything that I was irritated (and continue to be irritated) by has been absolutely, 100% irritation-worthy.

1. I randomly decided I wanted to play WoW again and won’t play on the laptop, so I’ve been playing on Phil’s computer, and that alone could spawn a forty item list of irritations, but I’ll leave it as this one, overarching irritation.

2. Sheldon keeps licking my shirt and leaving LICK SPOTS.

3. Flies keep landing on me. Instant scream rage.

4. People on Twitter who decided that for one day, they’re just going to tweet inspirational quotes or some shit. I don’t get this or the motivation behind it. It feels preachy to me. Don’t preach on Twitter. That’s irritating.

5. This message board I used to read, they like to use the word “wise” for anyone and everyone. Like “so and so is wise.” And not just about one post, but in general. Like “so and so is a wise person.” I don’t think they know what that word actually means.

6. Same message board launched a “post secret” style site, in which people could create “postcards” online and send in their secrets. Which lead to a “post secret” style site dedicated to call outs – where you could send in a “secret” that was actually anonymous insults to another poster. Apparently, someone sent something in that said that one poster’s husband, who has been battling cancer, was better off dead than with her. Note that I said “message board I used to read,” because hot christ.

7. Phil keeps trying to hug me when I am VERY CLEARLY giving off “do not approach” vibes.

8. VERY CLEARLY.

9. We have one diet soda left, which means I have to choose whether to just drink it now or ration it, which is irritating because I shouldn’t have to make such decisions and our poor soda planning skills need work.

10. Air conditioning.

11. I keep putting on weight like I don’t have a very specific dress waiting for me to fit into it in a month and a half.

12. Brinkley keeps licking my pants and leaving LICK MARKS.

13. I hate this stupid computer.

14. We have new eggs and old eggs in the fridge and I can never tell which is which.

15. No one has thrown out the old eggs.

16. I have an itch under the callous on my foot. UNDER it.

17. The shower head REFUSES to line up so that it hits me in the direct center of my back without me having to come in contact with the wall or the shower curtain. This is unacceptable.

18. Weddings are stupid.

19. When I rolled over in the night last night, Phil was laying in such a manner that we were face to face, as if he didn’t bother to anticipate the fact that I might roll over and then we’d be breathing on each other.

20. Sometimes it seems like some people only comment to give me a hard time.

21. This 800 number calls my cell phone EVERY SINGLE DAY and when I pick it up, there’s silence, and if I don’t pick it up, they leave a 2 second silent voice mail. EVERY DAY.

22. You know what else happened on Twitter a bunch of times recently? Someone will decided to make some kind of proclamation or lecture and it ends up being stretched across several Tweets. One, don’t preach on Twitter, because come on, you’re on Twitter. No one is taking you seriously. Two, if you need to say (cont.) or something like that – especially on a regular basis – you obviously do not fully grasp the concept of Twitter, and that is irritating.

23. People in their late teens or early 20s know absolutely everything there is to know and refuse to believe that they most certainly do not. Holy shit, is that irritating.

24. Sheldon fur.

25. I stopped biting my nails. So now what?

26. I was watching several episodes of a show on Hulu and accidentally closed the window with 5 minutes left to go in the season finale. I cannot be bothered to cue it back up.

27. A lot of people say “que” when they mean “cue,” and I think they mean to say “queue,” which means not only are they spelling it wrong, they’re using the completely wrong word. And you can’t say anything because then you’re that guy.

28. Also? “Weary” and “wary.” Two separate words.

29. Also? Using British spellings when you’re an American and claiming that they’re perfectly valid spellings? Not as cute as you think it is. I’m looking at you, Live Journal.

30. I hate this stupid keyboard.

31. My hair is too long.

32. My butt is too flat.

33. People keep leaving the “song” portion blank on the RSVPs.

34. Weddings are still stupid.

35. I hate having my picture taken, and I even MORE hate the people who think it’s fun or funny to sneak a picture or say, “Oh, just one,” and act like I’m a huge asshole when I again politely refuse. That’s not funny. Not at ALL. Especially the sneaking thing. So rude.

36. Also? ALSO? Super irritating? My name is Kelly. I prefer to be called Kelly, and I don’t care for Kel. Sometimes, when someone calls me Kel, I will VERY POLITELY say that I prefer Kelly. Said person either gets INCREDIBLY butt hurt and insulted, because OH MY GOD, why do I think it’s SUCH a big deal, or, from then on, they make a huge show of going, “Oh, hey, Kel —- LY!”

37. And people who know that a person doesn’t like to be crowded, but take great offense at someone stepping back for more room.

38. And grocery stores.

39. And parents who let their children flip around and harass the people in the next booth.

40. Phil lets his fingernails grow til they look like coke nails but won’t even let me paint one.

41. He also has long eyelashes, longer than any girl I know, and won’t let me put mascara on them, just to SEE.

42. I’m already pre-irritated at how many questions people are going to ask me leading up to the wedding.

43. I’m also pre-irritated at all of the people who will read this and feel an urge to comment about how negative I am, like they’ve never just been IRRITATED a goddamn day in their life, and trying to paint me as someone who complains constantly.

44. I want to repeat 43 right here because I’m still pre-irritated.

45. Do anyone’s glasses stay right on their nose? I am shoving them back up all day long. Could I be any more stereotypically nerd-like?

46. If you claim you’re never reading Dooce again, you really lose a lot of credence when you make the same proclamation again a couple of days later.

47. People who start helping to kill mobs that you have perfectly in hand drive me insane because I feel guilty or obligated to group.

48. I cannot get the little edge where the sink meets the counter clean. It looks grimy and awful and it’s making me insane.

49. Hair. Of all sorts and locations.

50. Phil likes to tuck the sheets when he makes the bed and then gets all upset when I untuck. NO ONE CAN SLEEP TUCKED.

So, what completely petty and fleeting things have crawled right under your skin lately?

I declare the comments section a complaint free for all, with no justifications needed and no judgment passed.

Instead of wedding planning updates, here are some “Shit I had to buy” updates.

At my mother’s insistence, we have secured a limo. We ended up going back and forth a bit between this limo:

with this interior:

And this OH MY GOD COMPLETELY DIFFERENT LIMO:

With this HOLY SHIT NOT THE SAME AT ALL interior:

… right.

So.

Anyway, we need a limo for about, oh, 45 seconds, total, making the seventeen skrillion dollar cost completely reasonable.

(Actually, we did get it for a completely and totally reasonable price, I’m just bitter because I didn’t even want a limo, which made the whole “choosing a limo” thing that much more hilarious, as my mother strained to listen for subtle changes in inflection and tone to determine which of the two COMPLETELY IDENTICAL limos I preferred over the other, and has proceeded to agonize over the choice, unsure if I’ve gotten exactly what I wanted, ever since.)

(Only with a wedding could a person complain about people bending themselves in half to make sure that said person is perfectly pleased, even about details that OH MY GOD NO ONE CA—zzzzzzzz.)

I bought Phil’s wedding band from Amazon:

And then I bought my wedding band from Etsy:

Having realized on my last visit that our wedding is scheduled to take place right between some extremely handsome floor vents, we made arrangements to have them covered with tables, which lead to the necessity of purchasing things to go on said tables, which lead to the necessity of a trip to Ikea, which I suppose I can’t really complain about.

Because come on.

Ikea.

Two sets of these

and two sets of these

a whole shit load of these

a half a dozen of these

a bunch of these
(which I didn’t realize were reversible until just now)

and some of these, because I guess I went a little crazy at the end there.

So, due to Ikea’s weirdness about what you can order online and what you can’t, and their ridiculous shipping charges for the things you can order, and the fact that there’s no Ikea near my parents’ house, a whole bunch of candle-related crap will soon be shipping across the US in poorly packed flat rate boxes.

Additionally, due to my laziness and unwillingness to exert more than the base effort required, a lot of family members are going to be inheriting a lot of candle holders on October 24.

Happy early Christmas!

Anyway. Still to be done are centerpieces for the reception, and I’m wondering if I should have just purchased more of the exact same stuff, as I wanted candle centerpieces anyway.

You can just piled a bunch of that stuff on a table and call it “attractive,” right?

Or, at least, “attractive enough?”

I hope so, because that’s what I’m planning on doing with all of that business for the ceremony.

There is still so much I haven’t done, stuff I keep putting off until “later.”

Well, September is the day after tomorrow, which means the day after tomorrow is when people will start saying, “Are you excited that you’re getting married NEXT MONTH?,” so I don’t know exactly when I think this “later” is.

The dress shop called to schedule my fittings, but I haven’t called back, because I don’t even know when I plan to be in the state.

And fittings require shoes, which, don’t even get me started. It’s a long dress. No one is going to notice if I just paint my feet white, right?

I still have to get bow ties and stuff for the dogs, which, again, don’t ask, as they’re not even coming to the wedding, and this is a project you do not want to engage me about, as I may turn my desperate eyes upon you and rope you in.

I don’t have a veil, but I’m thinking that something from the “On the Go” line from this Etsy shop or this eBay shop is going to do just fine – any objections? I’ve encountered plenty of women who have had zero regrets about cutting corners on the veil (it’s just tulle), but if you have a point to make, make it now, or live in regret forever that my wedding was ruined and it was all your fault.

Oh, you know another thing that fittings require?

UNDERPANTS.

Do you know how much the whole underpants rig underneath a wedding gown involves?

Or how much it costs?

Because I do.

And you’d think I’d be the type to buck the whole Tyrannical Bridal Underpants System and say, “I will NOT spend $150 on underpants! I shall wear cotton underpants with penguins on them! STRIKE FORTH FOR UNDERPANTS-PENDANCE!”

Except, no.

I’ve had that dress on. I need some sort of scaffolding system.

I haven’t chosen any of the particular songs necessary for wedding stuff. Phil and I have not, overnight, developed dancing skills, as we originally planned. Am considering stuffing a chunk of something radioactive under the mattress and dealing with the crapshoot that is “what super power will we wake up with?” and hoping it’s “the super power of being able to not look like the uncoordinated nerds we are for one minute and 45 seconds of dancing.”

With my luck, it would probably end up being like, the ability to open bottle caps with my armpit. Convenient, but who is even going to want to drink that?

Anyway, Internet, I’m sorry to continue to bore you with THE FACT THAT I’M GETTING MARRIED, but I am not done buying shit yet.

Oh no, not nearly done.

Much more one-time-use items have yet to be purchased! I’m a one woman economy stimulation machine!

PS – On a lame note? You will not believe how many people are leaving the “I promise to dance if you play this song” line of the invitation blank! And Phil’s mother’s invitation got lost and never arrived! And my grandmother’s invitation showed up back in our mailbox again with the label completely shredded.

If I ever get married again – which I won’t, because even if Phil and I start to hate each other, we have a pact to stay together until the bitter, smelly end – I am going to spell out the invitation in rocks on a beach and fly all my relatives overhead in a helicopter, because in terms of cost (in money, effort and frustration) it would equal out to about the same.

You guys.

Normally I would just share this in my feed reader, but you know what, it’s Friday, and I really don’t trust you guys to click on the links I put over there for your on the right.

Seriously, are any of you clicking on those at ALL? What is it? Is it that you’re lazy, or you just don’t trust my judgment about what you should read? Because I’m lazy, so I can get behind it if it’s that you’re just too lazy to click over and read the items I carefully select for you each day. I mean, I think it’s a crock of shit, but I can get behind it if that’s how you want to be. But not trusting my judgment? Come on, don’t be such ass candles.

I have something amazing to link for you today.

When I do link it for you, I want you to do me a favor and go ahead and click.

I’m linking this to you because I’m a giver. I COULD just have left it over there in the shared articles section, but I wouldn’t want you to have to STRAIN YOUR EYES by shifting them slightly to the right. And the way I phrase it! I let you FEEL GOOD ABOUT YOURSELF by doing something as simple as CLICKING, acting like you’re granting me some huge boon.

WELL, YOU’RE NOT.

I am the one who is doing YOU a favor.

ME. FAVOR. YOU.

Not the other way around.

Anyway.

Anyway.

Wind up your good clicking finger and do me a favor and click over and read this post by Steam Me Up, Kid.

If you haven’t clicked yet, if you’re still hesitant about my good judgment, if you think I would send you down some black hole of Internet suckitude (I only do that on Twitter), then here is a little taste to prove JUST HOW WRONG YOU ARE about me, Internet.

Me: Mom. The seam of your pants appears to have violently bisected your vagina. You are strangling your labia. Please, just adjust your junk. Tuck in, or shift the seam over and ride sidesaddle for a bit. I’ll even do it for you if you gimme a sec, I think I can find some sort of utensil, like tweezers or something, for discretion.

Seriously.

Steam Me Up, Kid. You want to go to there. Now.

We give our address to just about anyone.

Update:

I am nothing if not accomodating.

When I feel like it.

And it’s also convenient.

Both at the same time.

Feeling like it, and convenient. Then I am nothing if not accomodating.

So, Phil’s friend Oscar lives down in Tucson and had to come up to Phoenix for some training for his new job and asked if he could crash here on Tuesday night.

Not a problem at all. We have a guest room. We let guests stay in it.

We didn’t know when he would arrive, so we went out on Monday and got some groceries – one complete meal for the night Oscar would be here, and a bunch of mish mash crap that I would force Phil to subsist on for the rest of the week.

Early Tuesday afternoon, before I got too invested in cleaning the house and pacing back and forth in front of the dogs giving drawn out lectures and threats about good behavior, Phil said Oscar wasn’t going to come up, he had a ton of stuff to do at home and he wasn’t going to make it.

Not a big deal at all. I wasn’t too put out because I had been putting off the cleaning until the last minute, so I didn’t feel like I’d prepared for nothing, and I cooked the dinner anyway, because, hey, Phil and I also like to eat.

So, yesterday, I am obligation free and finally settling in to really read Mockingjay. Phil texted me early in the day to tell me that since Oscar found out that he would likely have to do several days of training, that we might go meet him for dinner.

Being unshowered and unlaundered and really comfortable with Mockingjay, I told Phil to let me know as soon as he knew.

He came home from work and hadn’t heard anything, so I felt no real reason to move from my comfortable couch dent as he went off to the gym.

Now Phil, being a guy, does not always see that when it comes to making plans, especially plans that involve seeing other people and may include a need for, I don’t know, a shower-fresh body and a non-honey mustard stained shirt, more notice is more better.

I think that’s a guy thing in general, making plans and agreeing to things without concern for preparations that may need to be made or food that might need to be prepared or other such things, because all you have to do is call up the magic fairy to handle it, right?

What is worse, though, than a guy (like Phil) making plans or agreeing to things or saying, “Sure, why not,” without a bit of a heads up, is two guys (like Phil and Oscar) making plans together.

Less than an hour after Phil left for the gym, my phone started buzzing with text messages. After digging around, I finally found it jammed under my left buttcheek, where it had probably been all day, as just as I made no move to clean anything, cook anything or address any part of my slovenly self, I had also made no effort to answer or otherwise attend to my phone for most of the day.

Women do not do this to each other.

I don’t want anything to do with what looks like it will amount to another way to judge each other. “I’ve decided to be a nice person and I need professional help to do that. Everyone is so mean.” Except, except – there are really so very few people who are truly mean.

I wrote awhile ago about how I don’t think I’m really nice or mean. I think I’m average nice. I think most people are average nice.

And I think that’s just fine.

I think, though, that especially with blogs, the line between nice and terrible is way too darkly drawn. Comments that disagree with a blog writer, however mild, are deleted.

Tweets that are completely innocuous at best, eye-rollingly lame at worst, are declared to be “threats” and “harassment” that require a big kerfluffle and to do.

Justifiably calling someone an asshole – right out front, in public, under your own name – gets you the label of “troll.”

I don’t know how much of this has to do with this sudden spate of people declaring their cleanse and honestly, I don’t know nor care too much about the details of the cleanse itself. You should understand this in reading the rest of this post. I don’t claim to “get” what this cleanse is about. I’m sure that, if you’re participating, you have very valid reasons. I think a lot of my feelings on this matter also have to do with a lot of recent discussions I’ve been having with other average nice people.

I think the fact that the Internet has become a bunch of weenies has combined with the fact that women love ways to shame each other to create whatever the hell this current Internet weather front turns out to be.

Anyway.

Internet, you’ve become a bunch of goddamn weenies.

Disagreeing is not the same thing as spewing hate.

A debate is not always a fight.

“I don’t like you” does not have to mean drama.

Calling someone an asshole does not make you the Internet devil. Some people ARE assholes, or at least, occasionally act like assholes.

This whole “don’t say anything unless you are agreeing or you’re giving some kind of emoticon hug” thing is ridiculous. These days, you simply cannot disagree with a blog writer or commenter in comments sections without sides being taken, defenses being leapt to, and things devolving into an absolute mess out of some misguided sense of “how dare you.”

Should comments devolve into some kind of name calling, mud flinging mess? No, of course not. But these things don’t usually start with random name calling or a hateful, anonymous comment anymore. THAT would be true trolling. No, these things usually start with someone saying something that is perceived as not being 100% nice.

So a commenter takes offense on behalf of the blogger and things get rolling from there. Or worse, something that has been happening far too often and over much too little, the blogger him/herself jumps into the comments or onto Twitter or anywhere s/he – let’s be honest, she – can, to shriek about persecution and trolling and hate and rallying up the troops and playing the victim about every little damn episode of someone not meeting their standards of nice.

Shaming, shaming weenies

I think that most of us are average nice. Because average is average and aside from some outliers, most of us are going to fall right in that range.

I don’t think I’m special or unique in any significant way. I think realizing that has made my life a lot more pleasing, a lot happier and a lot more realistic, if that makes sense.

So, as an average person, who is average nice, I know that a good number of people are going to be very similar to me.

I think mean things sometimes. I compare myself to other people, too – sometimes favorably and sometimes unfavorably. I make judgments and a lot of times, don’t even realize I’m doing it.

Sometimes I see something and have a reaction, or I think something and it’s not too polite, and the fact that I am adult capable of exercising my own judgment keeps me from saying it. Sometimes, it doesn’t, and I say something that maybe you wouldn’t have said, but definitely something that I’d say.

That doesn’t make me a mean girl. I’m just average nice.

I don’t think that’s a big deal. I think when someone does something that causes me to think, “Hey, that person is an asshole!” or have some kind of similar reaction, it’s up to me whether or not I feel strongly enough to actually voice that reaction. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. The same goes for just about everyone else. Ever.

But these days, these days with this weird new definition of what’s nice and what’s mean, the self-appointed Nice/Mean/Drama/Disturbance in the Force Police have come flying onto the scene as well, and that’s where the shaming comes in.

Every single goddamn day, there is someone tweeting or posting or commenting about “Can’t we all get along?” or “Ugh, drama. Everyone needs to calm down.,” or “Let’s all agree to make an effort to be kind to one another.”

This only happens on the Internet. The Internet, where people are completely and totally free to say whatever they want, has more people popping up to dictate who can say what to who and how than anywhere else.

Where else do you see an uninvolved adult either step between two other grown adults to stop their conversation, or stand next to other people and make loud comments right next to them about how terrible it is that they’re having the conversation?

And worse, not only does this only happen on the Internet – it’s usually over nothing. Take the recent #realwriters “debate” on Twitter. Over and over, people were jumping in to say how TERRIBLE it was to say bloggers aren’t “real” writers and whoever said that is a MORON and oh my GOD can’t we all just get ALONG, and you go to read the search results of the hashtag AND EVERYONE IS AGREEING WITH EVERYONE ELSE.

If the Nice/Mean/Drama/Disturbance in the Force Police invent a mudslinging debate where there was only one side, you can imagine what happens when someone calls someone else an asshole. Or people on opposite sides of an issue discuss it. Oh, it’s like the world is caving in.

And these pleas for niceness, for harmony, for kindness – they’re just another kind of shaming.

They are.

An adult telling other adults that their conversation/debate/argument/whatever shouldn’t be happening? It’s shaming.

“I’m above this. Why aren’t you above this? Nice women are above this.”

So what’s wrong with nice, anyway?

There is nothing wrong with nice. There’s nothing wrong with being a nice person, with doing nice things, with saying nice things, with striving to be nice in all areas of your life.

The problem is with what nice has come to mean, here on the Internet.

Nice isn’t “I like your hair in your avatar” or “Follow so and so, she’s such a great person.”

Nice, on the Internet, is not saying a word when you disagree.

Nice, on the Internet, is looking away when someone says something awful about a something you feel strongly about.

Nice, on the Internet, is not leaving a blog comment at all if the one you were about to leave isn’t in lock-step with the post itself.

Nice, on the Internet, means making sure that other people know how nice you are – by shaming them for saying anything that falls into the NEW definition of debate, fighting or drama.

Women are supposed to be nice.

We’re supposed to get along. We’re supposed to agree. We’re supposed to present some kind of united front. Fighting is what keeps women from forming deep friendships with other women.

I disagree. Shaming is what keeps women from forming deep friendships with other women. Shaming each other into stomping out deeply delt disagreements, shaming each other into keeping our fingers still when someone REALLY NEEDS to be told to what a sack of cocks they are, shaming each other for piping up to back someone else on whatever has been determined to be the “wrong” side of a debate.

I’m nice enough, thanks.

I’m not the type of person who seeks out every drama to jump into, tweet about and blog about, under some misguided notion of “telling it like it is.” I’m not mean for the sake of being mean.

I’m average nice. Sometimes I say things that aren’t 100% nice. I certainly think things that aren’t 100% nice. Sometimes I keep these things to myself, and sometimes I speak up. That’s my choice. I think that, going by the traditional, non-Internet version of the definition of the word “nice,” I’m a nice enough lady.

I know how to be nice. You know how to be nice. WE ALL know how to be nice. Sometimes, even knowing how to be nice, we choose not to be.

The reasons we choose not to be nice in any given situation are different for every person. Maybe someone is maligning a cause that you feel strongly about. Maybe someone has said something offensive about one of your friends. Maybe a debate has broken out amongst some other people, and you really have something to contribute.

In the non-Internet world, while not necessarily falling under the heading of “nice,” those things would be referred to as standing up for what you believe in, defending a friend, and engaging in heated discussion, respectively.

On the Internet, that all falls under the heading of mean, or drama, or, more simply – wrong.

The Nice/Mean/Drama/Disturbance in the Force police have twisted, turned, and mangled the definition of nice and are out to shame any woman who doesn’t fall in line. I’m embarrassed for them. I’m embarrassed for us.  I’m embarrassed by women banding together to tell other women how and when to communicate, and who specifically is allowed to say what specific things to which specific others.

I don’t need nor want to be told when it’s okay to object, when it’s okay to bitch back, and when my dissenting opinions are welcome or unwelcome. I don’t need nor want to be told when I should let this slide or side step that in order not to have someone pass judgment from on high about how above everything that’s going on they are.

Sometimes, I think someone is being an asshole, or is wrong, or is doing something that I strongly disagree with. A percentage of those “sometimes,” I will feel strongly enough about it – or really, just be in the mood – and say something. I don’t feel like that makes me a Mean Girl, or not a nice person.

If you, personally, feel like you need to conform to the Internet’s new definition of nice in order to be okay with yourself and happy with who you are, I totally respect that. But you need to respect that fact that the Internet doesn’t revolve around you.

That people don’t always agree.

That no one is obligated to stifle so that your tweet stream is expletive free.

I’ll respect your right to not speak up, not defend your friends, never disagree, never say a cross word to anyone, never compare yourself to anyone else, never hate what someone else stands for, never find anyone or yourself lacking in ANY way.

As long as you respect my right to tell someone to eat a bowl of dicks when I truly feel it’s deserved.

You trust my judgment about when it’s ok for me to say something. I’ll trust your judgment about what’s okay for you to decide not to be involved in.

It is not the Internet’s place to decide what’s nice and what’s not. It’s not the Internet’s place to decide who can say what to who and how and when for the sake of keeping up some false front of togetherness.

I’m nice. You’re nice.

We’re all pretty nice.

“Hm?”

“New rule. No half eaten anything in the bed.”

“Oh! My pickle! I was looking for that!”