Just a few more days. Enjoy something pretty in the meantime:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gi_P8XwrSCU
Peace.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
Save Me
No, don’t. Please don’t even try. Truly. Big waste of your time. And mine.
Those who know me, know I am an atheist. They also know I think agnostics are just chicken shit atheists. Sorry. It’s my belief. I allow you yours. Could you be kind enough, or Christian enough, or Jewish enough, or Muslim enough, or Buddhist enough, or whatever it is you believe in enough to just let me have my own beliefs?
I have never believed in God. I believe there may be a higher power. But that’s a personal idea to me. Not something I’ll share with just anyone. It’s so very, very personal. And yet… I will give you a brief overview.
My thoughts go towards the tenants of most religions. “Do unto others….” Yes, it’s simple. But most true things are. And sometimes doing unto others means being critical of them. Wouldn’t you want someone to tell you that you were acting badly? That the way you behaved was closed minded? Narrow? I would. I might not like it at first. But the greatest gifts I’ve received from friends has been the ability to see how I am viewed.
I grew up reading the bible as literature. And it’s actually a good read. Great stories. And if you have the opportunity to see it as such, you’ll have a greater understanding of most great books. Same goes for Shakespeare. But he never claimed to be “the word”.
So if you want to save me? Save me from zealots. Save me from people who believe their way is the only one. Save me from the pomposity of religion. Save me from the idea that there is just one true way to follow your life. Save me from people who believe abortion is wrong but the death penalty is right. Save me from those who think sex is only for procreation. And please, please save me from all the hypocrites who think they have found the answer.
Because there is no answer. There is only the question. And that should make us behave differently towards each other. So, go ahead, save me from that. Save me from ever thinking that my thoughts mean more than yours. And save me from your ever trying to make me think your thoughts mean more than mine.
But no one is going to save you from my anger when you try and shove your beliefs down my throat. Max don’t play that. And she never will.
And if you wonder where this is coming from? Please read Professor Howdy's comments in the post below.
And Professor or Captain Howdy. I may not believe in god. But I do in soul and meaning. And I forgive you for trying to push your ideas on me without an invite. Maybe Max is trying to tell you something. And that's not to let you believe you are a judge of me. Or my life. Or my thoughts. That is for a higher power. If it is. Save your judgement for yourself sir.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7ZT5sajkys
Those who know me, know I am an atheist. They also know I think agnostics are just chicken shit atheists. Sorry. It’s my belief. I allow you yours. Could you be kind enough, or Christian enough, or Jewish enough, or Muslim enough, or Buddhist enough, or whatever it is you believe in enough to just let me have my own beliefs?
I have never believed in God. I believe there may be a higher power. But that’s a personal idea to me. Not something I’ll share with just anyone. It’s so very, very personal. And yet… I will give you a brief overview.
My thoughts go towards the tenants of most religions. “Do unto others….” Yes, it’s simple. But most true things are. And sometimes doing unto others means being critical of them. Wouldn’t you want someone to tell you that you were acting badly? That the way you behaved was closed minded? Narrow? I would. I might not like it at first. But the greatest gifts I’ve received from friends has been the ability to see how I am viewed.
I grew up reading the bible as literature. And it’s actually a good read. Great stories. And if you have the opportunity to see it as such, you’ll have a greater understanding of most great books. Same goes for Shakespeare. But he never claimed to be “the word”.
So if you want to save me? Save me from zealots. Save me from people who believe their way is the only one. Save me from the pomposity of religion. Save me from the idea that there is just one true way to follow your life. Save me from people who believe abortion is wrong but the death penalty is right. Save me from those who think sex is only for procreation. And please, please save me from all the hypocrites who think they have found the answer.
Because there is no answer. There is only the question. And that should make us behave differently towards each other. So, go ahead, save me from that. Save me from ever thinking that my thoughts mean more than yours. And save me from your ever trying to make me think your thoughts mean more than mine.
But no one is going to save you from my anger when you try and shove your beliefs down my throat. Max don’t play that. And she never will.
And if you wonder where this is coming from? Please read Professor Howdy's comments in the post below.
And Professor or Captain Howdy. I may not believe in god. But I do in soul and meaning. And I forgive you for trying to push your ideas on me without an invite. Maybe Max is trying to tell you something. And that's not to let you believe you are a judge of me. Or my life. Or my thoughts. That is for a higher power. If it is. Save your judgement for yourself sir.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7ZT5sajkys
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
The Petition Grows
Someone was nice enough to have sent this to me. Thank you.
The petition is two signatures away from being sent to Jeremy. I would like him to see it.
http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/yelpcom-supports-violence-against-women
The petition is two signatures away from being sent to Jeremy. I would like him to see it.
http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/yelpcom-supports-violence-against-women
Xtie? I'm totally fine with it.
Truly. Do what you need to. You and your husband have been so very, very kind to me. I love you both. I do.
Elite '08
93
95
Xtie G.
Grow a set of principles, seriously.
Chicago, IL
Compliment
Send a Message
05/12/2008
3 star rating
(part 2 of 2. Part 1 at http://www.yelp.com/biz/yelp-chicago-3#hrid:-LEbSXnURSLorpBDDJF7qw)A couple of months ago a "prominent" Yelper got SEVERELY dissed by another, largely marginalized, Yelper. Cries of "foul" by multiple Yelpers went ignored for at least a week (an eternity in Yelpland) by HQ who, theoretically, moderate such BS (HATE).
This incident and the ensuing string of unfortunate circumstances brought to light several shitty things about this site, its creators and moderators:-Terms of Service appear to be VERY unevenly enforced. In fact, it appears that fucked-up situations, like this incident, are only considered on a case-by-case basis and only if enough people cry foul directly to HQ.
In the meantime, such situations are solely at the mercy of a select few, hair-trigger flaggers who are seemingly drunk with this "power"...specifically if such situation offends their "delicate" sensibilities (HATE).
-Yelp, the company, holds ZERO value for the time, effort and emotional energy we as Yelpers put into our reviews...the backbone of what makes this site possible. This was made clear to me when the voluminous and brilliant work product of several prolific Yelpers disappeared like a fart in the wind because said Yelpers somewhere, somehow offended the sensibilities of a select few flag-happy "Elites". And because of this I realized that "there, but by the grace of Yelp HQ, go I" (HATE).
-Not only did these brilliant, funny, useful and cool bodies of work disappear, so did everything else - every PM (so what remains is like was having a conversation with myself), every compliment, every thread post - every shred of their existence in this community. At best, this seems unnecessarily excessive. At worst, those of us remaining Yelpers who've had the privilege to interact with this former member of the community have been stolen from. This just appears to disrespect the presence and efforts of those of us who remain in the wake of the deleted (HATE).
-Yelp is postured as a community of "Real People, Real Reviews". By virtue of agreeing to adhere to Yelp's TOS, we as users agree to respect the community we are entering into. Sadly, there is no reciprocal sort of agreement for Yelp to respect us as real people who not only invest our time and energy into the site by providing reviews of the establishments that pay them, but also participate in the community that perpetuates a sense of loyalty and belonging to the site and community (HATE).
-Before all this mess I was proud to declare "I'm a Yelper!" and I wore my "Elite" hoodie with pride. Since this mess, said hoodie has been balled-up in the back of my closet...and I have NOT been proud to say I'm a Yelper (HATE).NOW let's check the math: LOVE=10; HATE=14
Because of these ugly realizations, about a month ago I decided to stop contributing reviews to the site or engaging in the community. But I've missed it. Yelp has filled a void in my life over the past year. It's provided me with a well-interfaced forum to create, connect, socialize and express myself. In short, it's helped me realize that this rock I've lived under for the past couple of years isn't so heavy. I can "do the math" all I want, but the truth is, this experience has been invaluable to me. I want it back.While I can wish all I want that Yelp really was a community that had a firm set of ethics...something to define what "do the right thing" means, in the end it's not. It's a business with It's own agenda. Those that run this business do what they have to do to make it viable. A wise friend offered the analogy that while I may not be happy with the operational ethics of petroleum companies, that fact doesn't keep me from buying gas to run my car.
SO...I've decided to suck it up, take the bad with the good and visit the nearest gas station to fill up my tank. And while I don't know how long this little road trip will last, I know that despite traffic, roadblocks, construction or detours, in the end it's ME driving the car and setting the course.
Darling Xtie. You have nothing but my very best wishes. Yelp away. But fight the good fight. That's all I ask.
Max
Elite '08
93
95
Xtie G.
Grow a set of principles, seriously.
Chicago, IL
Compliment
Send a Message
05/12/2008
3 star rating
(part 2 of 2. Part 1 at http://www.yelp.com/biz/yelp-chicago-3#hrid:-LEbSXnURSLorpBDDJF7qw)A couple of months ago a "prominent" Yelper got SEVERELY dissed by another, largely marginalized, Yelper. Cries of "foul" by multiple Yelpers went ignored for at least a week (an eternity in Yelpland) by HQ who, theoretically, moderate such BS (HATE).
This incident and the ensuing string of unfortunate circumstances brought to light several shitty things about this site, its creators and moderators:-Terms of Service appear to be VERY unevenly enforced. In fact, it appears that fucked-up situations, like this incident, are only considered on a case-by-case basis and only if enough people cry foul directly to HQ.
In the meantime, such situations are solely at the mercy of a select few, hair-trigger flaggers who are seemingly drunk with this "power"...specifically if such situation offends their "delicate" sensibilities (HATE).
-Yelp, the company, holds ZERO value for the time, effort and emotional energy we as Yelpers put into our reviews...the backbone of what makes this site possible. This was made clear to me when the voluminous and brilliant work product of several prolific Yelpers disappeared like a fart in the wind because said Yelpers somewhere, somehow offended the sensibilities of a select few flag-happy "Elites". And because of this I realized that "there, but by the grace of Yelp HQ, go I" (HATE).
-Not only did these brilliant, funny, useful and cool bodies of work disappear, so did everything else - every PM (so what remains is like was having a conversation with myself), every compliment, every thread post - every shred of their existence in this community. At best, this seems unnecessarily excessive. At worst, those of us remaining Yelpers who've had the privilege to interact with this former member of the community have been stolen from. This just appears to disrespect the presence and efforts of those of us who remain in the wake of the deleted (HATE).
-Yelp is postured as a community of "Real People, Real Reviews". By virtue of agreeing to adhere to Yelp's TOS, we as users agree to respect the community we are entering into. Sadly, there is no reciprocal sort of agreement for Yelp to respect us as real people who not only invest our time and energy into the site by providing reviews of the establishments that pay them, but also participate in the community that perpetuates a sense of loyalty and belonging to the site and community (HATE).
-Before all this mess I was proud to declare "I'm a Yelper!" and I wore my "Elite" hoodie with pride. Since this mess, said hoodie has been balled-up in the back of my closet...and I have NOT been proud to say I'm a Yelper (HATE).NOW let's check the math: LOVE=10; HATE=14
Because of these ugly realizations, about a month ago I decided to stop contributing reviews to the site or engaging in the community. But I've missed it. Yelp has filled a void in my life over the past year. It's provided me with a well-interfaced forum to create, connect, socialize and express myself. In short, it's helped me realize that this rock I've lived under for the past couple of years isn't so heavy. I can "do the math" all I want, but the truth is, this experience has been invaluable to me. I want it back.While I can wish all I want that Yelp really was a community that had a firm set of ethics...something to define what "do the right thing" means, in the end it's not. It's a business with It's own agenda. Those that run this business do what they have to do to make it viable. A wise friend offered the analogy that while I may not be happy with the operational ethics of petroleum companies, that fact doesn't keep me from buying gas to run my car.
SO...I've decided to suck it up, take the bad with the good and visit the nearest gas station to fill up my tank. And while I don't know how long this little road trip will last, I know that despite traffic, roadblocks, construction or detours, in the end it's ME driving the car and setting the course.
Darling Xtie. You have nothing but my very best wishes. Yelp away. But fight the good fight. That's all I ask.
Max
Sunday, May 11, 2008
On talking with my retired therapist.
Helen gave me a call today. She’s been reading the blog. As usual, she spoke rather plainly. Five years with someone will do that. Honesty can be a real pain in the ass when you’re not quite ready for it.
She said, “What are really angry about?”. I said, “I’m angry about the theft of my work.” She said, “Bullshit. Pure bullshit.” “That’s not what’s hurting you Barbara.”
I got cocky. As is my want. And said, “So what do YOU think it is about?” A come on friend, bring it. Just bring it. Fucking bring it already.
She spoke softly and said, “You got raped again. By a website this time. It has no face. It has no voice. It has no name. But it took your power away and you’re feeling it all over again.”
And then I began to cry. And cry. And cry. And I’m starting to let this really go. Not just say it. But feel it.
The woman gets it. I wonder why so many others do not.
Life can be a total crap fest. Sadly. People will kick you when you’re down. People will lie about you. People will use you. People will try to make you feel like shit. Understanding their motives is meaningless. I believe that in the long run… the understanding of your own self is what really matters. Why let others rule your life?
Only if you let them. Take it from Max. Don’t let them.
It’s hard to recover from being treated as if you’re nothing. As if your life has little meaning.
My life has meaning. I am a woman of both heart and mind. And nothing – and no one can take that from me.
And I'm still here. I'm STILL HERE. Nothing will make me lay down and die. Not a word. Not a comment. Nothing. I'm here and I'm glad to be here. If I give one person a voice? I've done what I need to do.
Women and men who have been raped are told to shut the fuck up about it. It's disturbing. Hell yes it's difficult to hear. But your voice is all you have. Name it! It wasn't a mistake... it wasn't your fault... It wasn't fucking "date rape"! Rape is rape is rape is rape.
Get mad. Take it back. No person deserves to feel constant cosmic pain because of someone who hurt them.
We are a part of something. What that is? I cannot name it. But I believe we have the ability to be kind. To be caring. To make ourselves a part of the world.
I want to think my being part of the world means something. I want to think any of us who love people and want to help them means something. I may be wrong. But I don't think I am.
She said, “What are really angry about?”. I said, “I’m angry about the theft of my work.” She said, “Bullshit. Pure bullshit.” “That’s not what’s hurting you Barbara.”
I got cocky. As is my want. And said, “So what do YOU think it is about?” A come on friend, bring it. Just bring it. Fucking bring it already.
She spoke softly and said, “You got raped again. By a website this time. It has no face. It has no voice. It has no name. But it took your power away and you’re feeling it all over again.”
And then I began to cry. And cry. And cry. And I’m starting to let this really go. Not just say it. But feel it.
The woman gets it. I wonder why so many others do not.
Life can be a total crap fest. Sadly. People will kick you when you’re down. People will lie about you. People will use you. People will try to make you feel like shit. Understanding their motives is meaningless. I believe that in the long run… the understanding of your own self is what really matters. Why let others rule your life?
Only if you let them. Take it from Max. Don’t let them.
It’s hard to recover from being treated as if you’re nothing. As if your life has little meaning.
My life has meaning. I am a woman of both heart and mind. And nothing – and no one can take that from me.
And I'm still here. I'm STILL HERE. Nothing will make me lay down and die. Not a word. Not a comment. Nothing. I'm here and I'm glad to be here. If I give one person a voice? I've done what I need to do.
Women and men who have been raped are told to shut the fuck up about it. It's disturbing. Hell yes it's difficult to hear. But your voice is all you have. Name it! It wasn't a mistake... it wasn't your fault... It wasn't fucking "date rape"! Rape is rape is rape is rape.
Get mad. Take it back. No person deserves to feel constant cosmic pain because of someone who hurt them.
We are a part of something. What that is? I cannot name it. But I believe we have the ability to be kind. To be caring. To make ourselves a part of the world.
I want to think my being part of the world means something. I want to think any of us who love people and want to help them means something. I may be wrong. But I don't think I am.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Max Loves Mug shots. Mucho.
Welcome. And enjoy.
http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2008/0509082mugs1.html
Number 16 is one of my all time favorites. Seersucker suit and a coy glance. Work it mister. Work it! Call me!
Good stuff.
Max
http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2008/0509082mugs1.html
Number 16 is one of my all time favorites. Seersucker suit and a coy glance. Work it mister. Work it! Call me!
Good stuff.
Max
Friday, May 9, 2008
Hmmm. Like Throwing a Hot Dog Down a Hallway?
Apologies to Seth for stealing that.
Once again, a quick reminder: Lady, it’s not a clown car. Or a clown tractor trailer, in this case.
Yipes!
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080509/ap_on_re_us/18_kids
Once again, a quick reminder: Lady, it’s not a clown car. Or a clown tractor trailer, in this case.
Yipes!
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080509/ap_on_re_us/18_kids
A Very Stupid Woman Part VI
“ANNOYANCE #8
You ask us out via text.
Texting is fast and easy and leads to sexy banter--but save it until after the first date. Calling a woman to ask her out is much more personal. It takes more effort (and balls), which is exactly what we find so sexy about your doing it. Okay, it's an unfair burden for you, but it comes with an advantage: It makes you stand out from the mass of other men who text instead of calling. "So many people are conditioned to communicate through text messages that to receive a phone call or even an e-mail feels like a generously romantic gesture," says Kristina Grish, author of The Joy of Text: Mating, Dating, and Techno-Relating. Another thing: Don't include us in any mass texts you bang off to half the female names in your address book at 10 p.m., expecting one of us to come rushing out to meet you for the night. "Women know when your 'plans 2nite?' texts are generic, and when they're intended to specifically address them," Grish says. "You have so few characters to make a succinct point, but tuck an inside joke or reference into the message to make it personal, sexy, and fun."
Well, this I agree with. A phone call is far better.
But all-in-all, I have to say, you are on the road to ruin relationship wise. Time to do some rethinking on how men and women relate. Because you just don’t understand this on even a basic level. I’m guessing you’re in your twenties.
It can truly be a great, great thing if you don’t have stupid little agendas. Or think that we’re truly all that different. We’re not.
We all want love. We all want understanding. And playing idiotic little games that tear us apart is just pointless.
Best wishes,
Max
You ask us out via text.
Texting is fast and easy and leads to sexy banter--but save it until after the first date. Calling a woman to ask her out is much more personal. It takes more effort (and balls), which is exactly what we find so sexy about your doing it. Okay, it's an unfair burden for you, but it comes with an advantage: It makes you stand out from the mass of other men who text instead of calling. "So many people are conditioned to communicate through text messages that to receive a phone call or even an e-mail feels like a generously romantic gesture," says Kristina Grish, author of The Joy of Text: Mating, Dating, and Techno-Relating. Another thing: Don't include us in any mass texts you bang off to half the female names in your address book at 10 p.m., expecting one of us to come rushing out to meet you for the night. "Women know when your 'plans 2nite?' texts are generic, and when they're intended to specifically address them," Grish says. "You have so few characters to make a succinct point, but tuck an inside joke or reference into the message to make it personal, sexy, and fun."
Well, this I agree with. A phone call is far better.
But all-in-all, I have to say, you are on the road to ruin relationship wise. Time to do some rethinking on how men and women relate. Because you just don’t understand this on even a basic level. I’m guessing you’re in your twenties.
It can truly be a great, great thing if you don’t have stupid little agendas. Or think that we’re truly all that different. We’re not.
We all want love. We all want understanding. And playing idiotic little games that tear us apart is just pointless.
Best wishes,
Max
A Very Stupid Woman Part V
“ANNOYANCE #7
You turn down sex.
When it so happens that we're the one who wants sex and you're the one who doesn't, we find your refusal to be confusing and irritating. Reassure us that we're attractive and that you love us, but that you just aren't in the mood. It helps to throw out a hint at what's going on--that you're tired, depressed, anxious at work, whatever, says Aline Zoldbrod, Ph.D., a Boston-area psychologist. That way we won't obsess or be too pouty or aggressive. If we happen to be fresh off a girls' night out liquored up and ready for sex, which you're refusing, tread extra carefully. Horny can change to emotional, crying wreckage very quickly when your girl has a couple of glasses of Prosecco in her.”
If you don’t know how to properly seduce a man? You don’t deserve him.
It’s as easy as making grilled cheese girl. One, two, blast off. Really.
A man rejecting your advances means far more than sex. He’s pissed.
As any thinking man would be towards a woman playing such horrid games.
“ANOYANCE #6
You blatantly look at porn.
We don't care that you masturbate, and we can't change the fact that you might occasionally browse the fine and varied selection of naked ladies on the Internet. But if you're looking at porn on a computer we also use, kindly delete your history. We don't want amazonbabes.com to pop up every time we want to do some shopping or, worse, when your mother's over and an underwearless young starlet showing her bald spot appears as we're showing Mom something online.”
This one is making me slightly insane. Become familiar with your computer. Erase the history if it disturbs you. We’re in a time where this stuff isn’t going away.
And buy your mom a computer for the love of god. Then look at her history. You may be surprised.
What on earth is wrong with porn? It may be the only thing that’s allowing you a sex life if you’re truly this uptight.
Men masturbate? There’s news. Guess what? Women do too. Some women even enjoy porn. News flash – Sex is for all us. As is the great pleasure of it.
And if I saw that my guy was looking at clean plates constantly? I’d be heading to the salon PDQ. Give a man what he wants? You’ll both be happy.
I’m actually starting to feel very sad for you. Wearing your inability to understand people on your sleeve is most unattractive.
You turn down sex.
When it so happens that we're the one who wants sex and you're the one who doesn't, we find your refusal to be confusing and irritating. Reassure us that we're attractive and that you love us, but that you just aren't in the mood. It helps to throw out a hint at what's going on--that you're tired, depressed, anxious at work, whatever, says Aline Zoldbrod, Ph.D., a Boston-area psychologist. That way we won't obsess or be too pouty or aggressive. If we happen to be fresh off a girls' night out liquored up and ready for sex, which you're refusing, tread extra carefully. Horny can change to emotional, crying wreckage very quickly when your girl has a couple of glasses of Prosecco in her.”
If you don’t know how to properly seduce a man? You don’t deserve him.
It’s as easy as making grilled cheese girl. One, two, blast off. Really.
A man rejecting your advances means far more than sex. He’s pissed.
As any thinking man would be towards a woman playing such horrid games.
“ANOYANCE #6
You blatantly look at porn.
We don't care that you masturbate, and we can't change the fact that you might occasionally browse the fine and varied selection of naked ladies on the Internet. But if you're looking at porn on a computer we also use, kindly delete your history. We don't want amazonbabes.com to pop up every time we want to do some shopping or, worse, when your mother's over and an underwearless young starlet showing her bald spot appears as we're showing Mom something online.”
This one is making me slightly insane. Become familiar with your computer. Erase the history if it disturbs you. We’re in a time where this stuff isn’t going away.
And buy your mom a computer for the love of god. Then look at her history. You may be surprised.
What on earth is wrong with porn? It may be the only thing that’s allowing you a sex life if you’re truly this uptight.
Men masturbate? There’s news. Guess what? Women do too. Some women even enjoy porn. News flash – Sex is for all us. As is the great pleasure of it.
And if I saw that my guy was looking at clean plates constantly? I’d be heading to the salon PDQ. Give a man what he wants? You’ll both be happy.
I’m actually starting to feel very sad for you. Wearing your inability to understand people on your sleeve is most unattractive.
A Very Stupid Woman Part IV
“ANNOYANCE #3
You talk to us as if we're one of the guys.
If you have any romantic inclinations toward us, please don't call us by our last name. Otherwise we'll assume we've already been relegated to buddy status and start thinking of you that way, too. Also, you'll rarely find us holding entire conversations in Simpsons and Old School quotes.
Similarly, we don't talk in numbers the same way men tend to. We're happy to see evidence of your improvements at the gym, but we really don't need to know how much you can bench-press. We also couldn't care less about your day rate, the price of your car, or the number of beers you once shotgunned in college. And fantasy-league anything will make us flirt hard with the waiter. No, the conversation doesn't have to be all about us, but we do want you to shoot for topics of mutual interest.”
Oh. I see. Being treated as an equal is offensive to you? No woman could posibly be interested in fantasy-league anything? I forgot. We’re wilting flowers who know nothing about sports or cars or Simpsons or Old School or numbers or how proud our guy is of his numbers. Right. Okay. I’m getting the vapors. I may need to go lay down on my fainting couch. Wherever are my smelling salts?
Sister, flirt away with the waiter. You need a gay man to be your friend in the worst way. He might just set you straight on this subject.
“ANNOYANCE #4
You speak of the future vaguely.
Men seem to have perfected a special way of talking about the future that makes it unclear whether we're a part of it or not. Or maybe you don't know you're doing this? For instance, you frequently mention your buddy's wedding in another state 6 months from now and you haven't asked us to go with you. Or you have a month long international business trip coming up but haven't asked us whether we'd like to come for a weekend visit. If you picture us in your future, try talking about these things in such a way that we'll stick around for it.”
Okay. This one is pretty damn easy. He doesn’t love you. He’s there for the sex. Get over it. Get a clue.
Go ahead, talk to him about the future. The dust trail should be tremendoulsy amusing.
You talk to us as if we're one of the guys.
If you have any romantic inclinations toward us, please don't call us by our last name. Otherwise we'll assume we've already been relegated to buddy status and start thinking of you that way, too. Also, you'll rarely find us holding entire conversations in Simpsons and Old School quotes.
Similarly, we don't talk in numbers the same way men tend to. We're happy to see evidence of your improvements at the gym, but we really don't need to know how much you can bench-press. We also couldn't care less about your day rate, the price of your car, or the number of beers you once shotgunned in college. And fantasy-league anything will make us flirt hard with the waiter. No, the conversation doesn't have to be all about us, but we do want you to shoot for topics of mutual interest.”
Oh. I see. Being treated as an equal is offensive to you? No woman could posibly be interested in fantasy-league anything? I forgot. We’re wilting flowers who know nothing about sports or cars or Simpsons or Old School or numbers or how proud our guy is of his numbers. Right. Okay. I’m getting the vapors. I may need to go lay down on my fainting couch. Wherever are my smelling salts?
Sister, flirt away with the waiter. You need a gay man to be your friend in the worst way. He might just set you straight on this subject.
“ANNOYANCE #4
You speak of the future vaguely.
Men seem to have perfected a special way of talking about the future that makes it unclear whether we're a part of it or not. Or maybe you don't know you're doing this? For instance, you frequently mention your buddy's wedding in another state 6 months from now and you haven't asked us to go with you. Or you have a month long international business trip coming up but haven't asked us whether we'd like to come for a weekend visit. If you picture us in your future, try talking about these things in such a way that we'll stick around for it.”
Okay. This one is pretty damn easy. He doesn’t love you. He’s there for the sex. Get over it. Get a clue.
Go ahead, talk to him about the future. The dust trail should be tremendoulsy amusing.
A Very Stupid Woman Part III
“ANNOYANCE #1
You don't pick up after yourself at our place.
Actually, we really don't mind if you're a little messy. An empty beer bottle here or dirty T-shirt there--no problem. But when we start seeing pieces of you (literally) all over the place, we tend to go off. Like when we find your hairs all over our bar of Dove, or toenail clippings on the nightstand, or a pile of chewed-out sunflower-seed shells on the counter. Please clean that up before we see it and want to gag. And then we'll promise to be better about leaving globs of our hair in your shower drain. Do we have a deal?”
Beg your pardon my darlin’, but there are worse things in this world than toe nail clipplings (on the nightstand, really? What a charmer.) or hair on soap. And, once again, speak the fuck up. Are you a mute? Unable to write? Say what you want. You’ll probably get it. And if you leave the dirty tampon in the wastebasket? All bets are off baby. Polite is as polite does.
“ANNOYANCE #2
You ask how much our new haircut or handbag costs...
…yet conveniently don't mention your sportsbook.com account or the $200 you lost on the NCAA parlay. Until we're sharing a bank account with you, we're not all that interested in your opinions on how we should or should not spend our money. And if we are sharing a bank account, here's something you should know: Reminding us when we're in the throes of post-retail bliss that we just blew all our disposable income for the month is not going to endear you to us. The perfect boyfriend response: "Wow, [fierce/sexy/hot] new [haircut/handbag/lingerie item]. I guess dinner is on me tonight!" Then wait a few days to bring up your financial concerns, by proposing we both start saving for something we want to buy together.”
Lady, did someone cut your tounge out? Four words to live by: “None of your business.” If your money is your own, he has no right. But I would guess you told all your girlfriends just how much your purse, your haircut, your lingerie cost. It’s called hypocrite. You may want to look it up. It’s in the dictionary. Under your name.
You don't pick up after yourself at our place.
Actually, we really don't mind if you're a little messy. An empty beer bottle here or dirty T-shirt there--no problem. But when we start seeing pieces of you (literally) all over the place, we tend to go off. Like when we find your hairs all over our bar of Dove, or toenail clippings on the nightstand, or a pile of chewed-out sunflower-seed shells on the counter. Please clean that up before we see it and want to gag. And then we'll promise to be better about leaving globs of our hair in your shower drain. Do we have a deal?”
Beg your pardon my darlin’, but there are worse things in this world than toe nail clipplings (on the nightstand, really? What a charmer.) or hair on soap. And, once again, speak the fuck up. Are you a mute? Unable to write? Say what you want. You’ll probably get it. And if you leave the dirty tampon in the wastebasket? All bets are off baby. Polite is as polite does.
“ANNOYANCE #2
You ask how much our new haircut or handbag costs...
…yet conveniently don't mention your sportsbook.com account or the $200 you lost on the NCAA parlay. Until we're sharing a bank account with you, we're not all that interested in your opinions on how we should or should not spend our money. And if we are sharing a bank account, here's something you should know: Reminding us when we're in the throes of post-retail bliss that we just blew all our disposable income for the month is not going to endear you to us. The perfect boyfriend response: "Wow, [fierce/sexy/hot] new [haircut/handbag/lingerie item]. I guess dinner is on me tonight!" Then wait a few days to bring up your financial concerns, by proposing we both start saving for something we want to buy together.”
Lady, did someone cut your tounge out? Four words to live by: “None of your business.” If your money is your own, he has no right. But I would guess you told all your girlfriends just how much your purse, your haircut, your lingerie cost. It’s called hypocrite. You may want to look it up. It’s in the dictionary. Under your name.
A Very Stupid Woman Part II
“The biggest fight in my relationship has been replayed more times than Beyoncé's tumble in Orlando. It usually happens something like this: First, after 3 or 4 hours of silent abuse by me, my boyfriend starts to suspect something's up.
"I know you're annoyed," he says. "What did I do?"
"You didn't do anything," I say. "It's fine, whatever. I'm not annoyed."
"Just tell me."
This goes on for hours until I finally blurt it out: "You didn't introduce me when we ran into that guy you work with! And why do you need to go out to brunch with your ex?" Then I feel silly for letting such small things bother me, and we laugh and roll around on the bed and all is right again in our world.”
This isn’t even point one? Because it should be.
“3 or 4 hours of silent abuse by me” What. What the hell? So something is bothering you and you want him to get it through osmosis? Are you nuts? Here’s an idea. Speak up. Tell him why you’re upset. Save the drama for your stage career Sarah Bernhardt. Really. Grow up. The silent treatment is for idiots and children. Not grown women.
And while make up sex is always pleasant, I hope you got the good hard spanking you deserved.
This annoys me to no end. This is one of the reasons men and women don’t communicate well. Because you’re too busy playing Bi-polar Barbi instead of talking about how you feel. Pot meet kettle. It’s name is bitch of the year. And it's the new black. Sheesh.
"I know you're annoyed," he says. "What did I do?"
"You didn't do anything," I say. "It's fine, whatever. I'm not annoyed."
"Just tell me."
This goes on for hours until I finally blurt it out: "You didn't introduce me when we ran into that guy you work with! And why do you need to go out to brunch with your ex?" Then I feel silly for letting such small things bother me, and we laugh and roll around on the bed and all is right again in our world.”
This isn’t even point one? Because it should be.
“3 or 4 hours of silent abuse by me” What. What the hell? So something is bothering you and you want him to get it through osmosis? Are you nuts? Here’s an idea. Speak up. Tell him why you’re upset. Save the drama for your stage career Sarah Bernhardt. Really. Grow up. The silent treatment is for idiots and children. Not grown women.
And while make up sex is always pleasant, I hope you got the good hard spanking you deserved.
This annoys me to no end. This is one of the reasons men and women don’t communicate well. Because you’re too busy playing Bi-polar Barbi instead of talking about how you feel. Pot meet kettle. It’s name is bitch of the year. And it's the new black. Sheesh.
Men? Meet a Very Stupid Woman Part I
http://men.msn.com/articlemh.aspx?cp-documentid=6804752>1=32001
Lord save us from articles like this. To assume all women feel this way about men is beyond stupid. It’s downright dangerous. Read it first.
Then my next post is going to take this point by fucking point. Because this shit needs to be addressed.
Max
Lord save us from articles like this. To assume all women feel this way about men is beyond stupid. It’s downright dangerous. Read it first.
Then my next post is going to take this point by fucking point. Because this shit needs to be addressed.
Max
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Blasphemy and The Village People? Why not?
I saw this on a fellow bloggers site. Made me giggle for a long time.
True story: I once had a friend get SO drunk at a wedding he got out on the dance floor and did the dance... wait for it... by himself. I still tease him about it.
Billy - Silly, silly man. Making an ass out of yourself since 1970 or so. But I kid, I kid.
Max
Men Who Wear Cowboy Hats in the City - A Review
Howdy Tex! You look like an idiot.
You're not in Marlboro Country. You're in Chicago. And people are laughing at you. Hard.
So knock it off. Or I just might.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uKv171MzvSc&feature=related
Extra points for Bruce Campbell. You can leave the hat on Bruce.
Do something nice for a stranger today
Go ahead. It'll make you feel great.
(Danni - I'm thinking of you today. I love you.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IPKpmN1EJ_c&feature=related
Hey Jerry! Guess what? I love you!
Free at last. Free at last. Thank god almighty, I'm free at last.
Who knew this would end up being the best thing to ever happen to me.
Maxie Power
(Danni - I'm thinking of you today. I love you.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IPKpmN1EJ_c&feature=related
Hey Jerry! Guess what? I love you!
Free at last. Free at last. Thank god almighty, I'm free at last.
Who knew this would end up being the best thing to ever happen to me.
Maxie Power
Some Music Haunts me
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UZsIGQaLKI&feature=related
May I please introduce you to this young man? José González.
Just some great, great shit.
Love,
Max
May I please introduce you to this young man? José González.
Just some great, great shit.
Love,
Max
Another one that got pulled. That meant very much to me.
Dearest Older Sister:
I miss you every day. Your suicide made my life a much different place. No one could help you. We tried. We tried so very hard. But the doctors just threw drugs at you. Downers? For a depressive? Holy shit. Wrong. So wrong.
You were the best and the brightest of our family. Funny? Hell yes. Caustic? Man, you could make a grown man cry. Smart? So fucking smart. I recall when I was starting to read Proust how you gave me an encapsulated view of him. I wet my pants laughing. You were too good for this world. And the world just hurt you. Time and time again.
I’m sorry I couldn’t save you my dear. I wish I could have. I still pick up the phone to call you every now and then. I’ve read something or seen something… and I think… Katie would love this.
You’re still here. You’re still here in my heart. And you always will be. Always.
Save a life. If you can.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKxnJ5iyC-w
I miss you every day. Your suicide made my life a much different place. No one could help you. We tried. We tried so very hard. But the doctors just threw drugs at you. Downers? For a depressive? Holy shit. Wrong. So wrong.
You were the best and the brightest of our family. Funny? Hell yes. Caustic? Man, you could make a grown man cry. Smart? So fucking smart. I recall when I was starting to read Proust how you gave me an encapsulated view of him. I wet my pants laughing. You were too good for this world. And the world just hurt you. Time and time again.
I’m sorry I couldn’t save you my dear. I wish I could have. I still pick up the phone to call you every now and then. I’ve read something or seen something… and I think… Katie would love this.
You’re still here. You’re still here in my heart. And you always will be. Always.
Save a life. If you can.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKxnJ5iyC-w
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
An E-mail to a good friend
I actually left the house of my own accord. Alone. A little frightened. But I just girded my loins and did it. I went to see Carol J. at Il Covo. She's been getting hate PMs from her soon to be event there. I wasn't down with that. I wanted her to know I still loved her and had nothing to do with that nonesense. I'm getting a little sick of the hatred on Yelp. She doesn't deserve to be treated that way. And I would NEVER suggest that anyone treat her that way.
As I was leaving, fella was just getting home from work. The look on his face was priceless. He was SO fucking pleased to see me doing something. He was beaming! He said, "What the fuck is up?". I said, "I'm going to go see Carol at her place." He asked me if i wanted him to come too. I said I was ok. I don't think I've seen him quite so happy in a long time. He was really pleased. He asked me about three times if I was sure I was up to it. And I insisted I was.
So I let three buses pass me by. I was seriously considering just going back home. And suddenly... I got mad. Why the fuck am I hiding? Why am I letting this hold me down? Why? And the answer came.... because you allow it. If there ever was a moment when the sun broke through the clouds and angels sang? This was my moment. It was beautiful. I felt myself suddenly rise up. Pride. Pure pride. And no fear. Just this moment of total understanding of how bad this has been. And how I just couldn't let it continue.
I got on the next bus. I was nervous. I felt unsteady. Honestly, I thought about getting off the bus and just going back home several times. But the voice in my head wouldn't allow it. I KNEW I had to go. I had to take my life back. Even if it was just by degrees.
Every stop was a baby step for me. The bus driver told me I looked good. Asked if I was going on a date. That helped. I told him I hadn't been out of the house on my own in a couple of months. He said, "Honey, a woman like you should be out all the time." Heh. Black men. Gotta love 'em.
I got off near her place. I stood outside and smoked a cig. And then... I walked into her place. She fed and watered me. We talked. The owner of her building came in. A young man. About your age. We started talking about stuff. I told him about my mad poker skillz. (I'm an excellent reader of tells). I told him what his tell was. He was impressed. Turns out they have a monthly poker game upstairs. And he invited me to the game. !!!
Max is back. Maybe only a little bit. But she's here. She's here. And she's alive. And she's glad to be. And you know what else? Fuck them. Fuck the haters. I'm more powerful than any of that shit. I'm not going to let this rule my life. I'm not. I will choose my own fate. No one chooses it for me.
I've been in the deepest, darkest place I've ever known. I actually considered death a few times. I don't think I knew how bad this really was. It was like watching a movie. And I was in it.
But not anymore. So... I'm here. I'm here. And god damn it. I'm glad to be here. I'm going to take my time to notice how beautiful life can be. How flowering trees make me happy. How the smell of spring makes me feel alive. How walking with a strong and steady gate makes me feel powerful. And how places like Yelp mean nothing in the long run. I'm all I really have.
And losing myself was killing me. But not anymore. I'm a fighter. I'm a fucking boxer in the 12th round. Broken, bleeding... but still punching. It's going to take more than that place to put me down for the count. I might be on the ropes. But I'm not finished. No one knocks me down.
So... I'm done with you Jeremy. I'll continue to call you a cunt. But I'm checking out of your heart break hotel. Do what you wish. And I'll do the same.
I'm guessing I have a far better life than you do. I have people who love me. Who understand me. And who are able to forgive me when I fail. You are nothing. Less than nothing. Power is a woman. It's true. Power is a woman who disallows you to disrespect her. So chew on that.
And on this. My Dad was a boxer. I have some pretty fierce ways of protecting myself from evil men. It ain't gonna happen again. Never again.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iHqNhZXtM_c&feature=related
Max
As I was leaving, fella was just getting home from work. The look on his face was priceless. He was SO fucking pleased to see me doing something. He was beaming! He said, "What the fuck is up?". I said, "I'm going to go see Carol at her place." He asked me if i wanted him to come too. I said I was ok. I don't think I've seen him quite so happy in a long time. He was really pleased. He asked me about three times if I was sure I was up to it. And I insisted I was.
So I let three buses pass me by. I was seriously considering just going back home. And suddenly... I got mad. Why the fuck am I hiding? Why am I letting this hold me down? Why? And the answer came.... because you allow it. If there ever was a moment when the sun broke through the clouds and angels sang? This was my moment. It was beautiful. I felt myself suddenly rise up. Pride. Pure pride. And no fear. Just this moment of total understanding of how bad this has been. And how I just couldn't let it continue.
I got on the next bus. I was nervous. I felt unsteady. Honestly, I thought about getting off the bus and just going back home several times. But the voice in my head wouldn't allow it. I KNEW I had to go. I had to take my life back. Even if it was just by degrees.
Every stop was a baby step for me. The bus driver told me I looked good. Asked if I was going on a date. That helped. I told him I hadn't been out of the house on my own in a couple of months. He said, "Honey, a woman like you should be out all the time." Heh. Black men. Gotta love 'em.
I got off near her place. I stood outside and smoked a cig. And then... I walked into her place. She fed and watered me. We talked. The owner of her building came in. A young man. About your age. We started talking about stuff. I told him about my mad poker skillz. (I'm an excellent reader of tells). I told him what his tell was. He was impressed. Turns out they have a monthly poker game upstairs. And he invited me to the game. !!!
Max is back. Maybe only a little bit. But she's here. She's here. And she's alive. And she's glad to be. And you know what else? Fuck them. Fuck the haters. I'm more powerful than any of that shit. I'm not going to let this rule my life. I'm not. I will choose my own fate. No one chooses it for me.
I've been in the deepest, darkest place I've ever known. I actually considered death a few times. I don't think I knew how bad this really was. It was like watching a movie. And I was in it.
But not anymore. So... I'm here. I'm here. And god damn it. I'm glad to be here. I'm going to take my time to notice how beautiful life can be. How flowering trees make me happy. How the smell of spring makes me feel alive. How walking with a strong and steady gate makes me feel powerful. And how places like Yelp mean nothing in the long run. I'm all I really have.
And losing myself was killing me. But not anymore. I'm a fighter. I'm a fucking boxer in the 12th round. Broken, bleeding... but still punching. It's going to take more than that place to put me down for the count. I might be on the ropes. But I'm not finished. No one knocks me down.
So... I'm done with you Jeremy. I'll continue to call you a cunt. But I'm checking out of your heart break hotel. Do what you wish. And I'll do the same.
I'm guessing I have a far better life than you do. I have people who love me. Who understand me. And who are able to forgive me when I fail. You are nothing. Less than nothing. Power is a woman. It's true. Power is a woman who disallows you to disrespect her. So chew on that.
And on this. My Dad was a boxer. I have some pretty fierce ways of protecting myself from evil men. It ain't gonna happen again. Never again.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iHqNhZXtM_c&feature=related
Max
Monday, May 5, 2008
Ann Sather’s - Another lost review remembered
I just read a four star review for Ann Sather’s. This will not stand. Annie, you old bitch, you’re going down.
Years ago, and I do mean years ago, this was one of the greatest places to get a good meal for a really decent price. Everything delicious. Now… nope.
Perhaps it was the move they made into a former funeral parlor. (More refrigeration?) Perhaps it was the new ownership. Or that he became an alderman and no longer was “hands on” regarding the restaurant.
Last time I was here the waiter brought the soup AFTER the meal. The meal that sucked.
So if you come here, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The only reason to come in is to grab a box of their cinnamon rolls, pay for them and slowly back away. Get out the door and run like hell. Consider yourself lucky.
Evening JS. How are they hanging? Do you have them? Hmmm. Probably not. Only a balless wonder would keep someone’s work and decide they don’t need to answer them regarding said work. You sir, both suck and blow.
Affectionately,
Max Power B. (The B stands for bitch)
Years ago, and I do mean years ago, this was one of the greatest places to get a good meal for a really decent price. Everything delicious. Now… nope.
Perhaps it was the move they made into a former funeral parlor. (More refrigeration?) Perhaps it was the new ownership. Or that he became an alderman and no longer was “hands on” regarding the restaurant.
Last time I was here the waiter brought the soup AFTER the meal. The meal that sucked.
So if you come here, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The only reason to come in is to grab a box of their cinnamon rolls, pay for them and slowly back away. Get out the door and run like hell. Consider yourself lucky.
Evening JS. How are they hanging? Do you have them? Hmmm. Probably not. Only a balless wonder would keep someone’s work and decide they don’t need to answer them regarding said work. You sir, both suck and blow.
Affectionately,
Max Power B. (The B stands for bitch)
Question Mark Heads and Meanies
Another phenomena on Yelp. A question mark head is someone who either does not know how to post a picture or chooses not to so they can attack someone on line. It’s pretty strange. And not just a little disturbing. Sociopath? Anyone?
It is a violation of TOS. As it should be. But it seems to happen more and more lately. So I have a few things I would like to say about this.
Firstly, I ain’t never going back to my old school. Not in the guise of a question mark head or otherwise. Truly. You all bore me. I don’t want to read about barking dogs or your Brazilian wax or how fat you are and how you’re losing weight through the miracle of the slow cooker. Yipes. Get a life? Indeed. Please do.
Secondly, to the littler pisher who is attacking a young woman on the boards? Knock it the fuck off. It’s unattractive and really… it isn’t necessary. Grow up. I’ll fight my own battles thank you very much.
And last, but certainly not least… Let us behave with some decorum. There’s a reason for rules of order in this world.
So play nice, if you can. If you can’t, get help. Snarky is one thing. Full mode attack is an entirely different matter. Just… don’t.
And now for a little human kindness. Overflowing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0y03IOB-e6g
And how ya doing Jerry? You really take the cake. Like a fat girl on a cupcake you are. Give me back my shit. And we’re done you anal applicator.
It’s all I want. Hours and hours of work. Not yours. Not yours my dear.
XXOO
Maxie Power
It is a violation of TOS. As it should be. But it seems to happen more and more lately. So I have a few things I would like to say about this.
Firstly, I ain’t never going back to my old school. Not in the guise of a question mark head or otherwise. Truly. You all bore me. I don’t want to read about barking dogs or your Brazilian wax or how fat you are and how you’re losing weight through the miracle of the slow cooker. Yipes. Get a life? Indeed. Please do.
Secondly, to the littler pisher who is attacking a young woman on the boards? Knock it the fuck off. It’s unattractive and really… it isn’t necessary. Grow up. I’ll fight my own battles thank you very much.
And last, but certainly not least… Let us behave with some decorum. There’s a reason for rules of order in this world.
So play nice, if you can. If you can’t, get help. Snarky is one thing. Full mode attack is an entirely different matter. Just… don’t.
And now for a little human kindness. Overflowing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0y03IOB-e6g
And how ya doing Jerry? You really take the cake. Like a fat girl on a cupcake you are. Give me back my shit. And we’re done you anal applicator.
It’s all I want. Hours and hours of work. Not yours. Not yours my dear.
XXOO
Maxie Power
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Death Cab for Cutie - "I'll follow you into the dark"
Big fan of the singer-songwriters. Here's one that's meaningful. To me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfBw0IWwO5U
Hey Jerry. Gonna die alone? Cold and empty. With lots of money? But no love? Well, you got that going for you...
Maxie
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfBw0IWwO5U
Hey Jerry. Gonna die alone? Cold and empty. With lots of money? But no love? Well, you got that going for you...
Maxie
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Kissing - A Review (A new one)
Fella stayed home from work today. He's been concerned about me. He said the other night that I was crying in my sleep. True. I had no idea. I was wondering why I was waking up with puffy eyes and a puffy face. Thought I was eating too much salt.
So during the day we took to our bed. He spent almost an hour just kissing me. My mouth, my face, my eyes, my fingers, my neck, my back. Other places. So sweet. So dear. So relaxing. So exciting. So soothing. So needed.
It was like taking a trip to another planet. The one where you're free. Where you don't feel pain. Where you don't feel sadness or anger. Just pure pleasure. And it was a trip I needed to take.
Yes, J. I'm still angry. And rightfully so. But you can kiss it. Kiss it good. May I have my hard work back?
Max
Thursday, May 1, 2008
My Review of The Blue Man Group
I don’t want to be mean. But I think Jesus had more fun on the cross than I did at this abortion of a show.
End of review.
How goes it sweet boy J? Ready to return my work? Once again, do so, and we’re done. I’ll even consider taking this blog down before I hit a few people where they live. Verbally, that is. So consider this… you dirty diaper. I’m going to start getting mad soon. You won’t like me when I’m mad. I’m not nice. Not at all.
End of review.
How goes it sweet boy J? Ready to return my work? Once again, do so, and we’re done. I’ll even consider taking this blog down before I hit a few people where they live. Verbally, that is. So consider this… you dirty diaper. I’m going to start getting mad soon. You won’t like me when I’m mad. I’m not nice. Not at all.
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