Am I the only one that gets seriously annoyed when they are corrected by random people online? I’m talking about the grammar police in all their unholy glory. Here in the “blogiverse,” (that word chaps my ass a little) it seems like everyone and their mother has an English degree and likes to shove it in the face of unsuspecting writers when they spot a mistake. What’s with that? Don’t you guys have something better to do with your time? Why leave a random comment that has nothing to do with a blog post solely to correct someone you don’t know? Am I missing something here?
Usually the amazing lessons from the self-appointed grammar police begin like:
“I think you meant to say…”
“Not to be rude, but…”
“My mom thinks I’m special and smart, it would be a shame not to share my knowledge…”
“I won my 8th grade spelling bee, so I’ve got the credentials to correct you…”
“I don’t get enough attention in real life, so I feel the need to make strangers feel belittled.”
News flash: nobody likes a know-it-all. You guys really are the bursting ass pimples of the internet.
Also, I get annoyed by terrible spelling too, so I’m not completely exempt in all of this. It’s the people that go out of their way to correct it is what drives me nuts. It always seems like people do it just to pat themselves on the back for being smart.
1. I’ve come to the conclusion the last few days that I’m a terrible person. Not that I’m on the level of pushing bratty little kids down the stairs or rubbing my naked ass all over the neighbor’s cars after a recent trip to the bathroom, but I’m up there. I’ve propelled into the early stages of ‘grumpy old woman’ syndrome even though I’m barely 30. I had a conversation with Alex yesterday about how disappointed he was that he was unable to help his brother move this weekend due to wrist tendinitis. I mean, I figured he must’ve been promised an endless supply of pizza and beer or something… but he wasn’t. He was just looking forward to the act of helping someone who needed it. What? Is this normal? How do I get to be like this? The thought of helping somebody move their crap is on par with walking blindfolded into the middle of oncoming traffic for me. Why am I such a negative Nancy? Do normal people actually just enjoy doing whatever they have to in order to help someone without ever expecting them to return the favor, or is my husband just a saint? I need some Jesus or something.
2. I’ve been hiding this past week because I’ve ventured into uncharted territory and, man… these rocky waves are making me seasick as hell. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hack it. I started writing a book a few days ago. Now, this is something I’ve been putting off for a long time even though there’s been characters and scenes stuck in my head for almost a year. I was waiting for the right time and I think I’m finally ready for their story to be told. The only problem is that I already hate what I’ve written and want to restart. How do I get past the self criticism? Am I ever going to like the shit that I write? How do authors do it? I’m my own worst enemy.
(Is it sad I saw this sticky note on the box an instantly thought, ‘BUT BACON! What about bacon?’ Sorry about the shitty quality.)
3. People are making life insufferable lately. I can’t walk around Barnes and Noble without hearing people talk about anti-Islamic hate groups or go into my grocery store without being chastised about eating meat. A few days ago I spent a solid 30 minutes going through my Twitter feed, turning off some people’s re-tweets because all it is (literally 20 times in a row) is people complaining about Trump. (I love you guys, but you are killingme.) My ENTIRE feed was related to politics – the thing I try my hardest to avoid in life. We get it. Trump is a psychotic, orange, hateful mother fucker who may very well cause a new war. I like to live in a bubble though, when you have extreme anxiety it does wonders. (I know this is going to offend some people I follow on Twitter. It’s not personal – I love your blogs and want to see your tweets. I just turned off re-tweets. Yes, you are allowed to be pissed and angry over Trump. This is just self-preservation.)
1.There was a woman at Target yesterday who had toilet paper stuck in her waist band by her butt. I thought it was embarrassing to advertise to a crowded store that she recently shat in store’s bathroom and was the cause of the ungodly odor seeping out onto the people waiting in the Starbucks line, so I took it upon myself to tell her. You know, trying to cash in my good deed for the day. Instead, she turned and looked at me and said, ‘That’s not funny! Those type of pranks are very immature for a woman your age.’ This chick thought I was the one who put the toilet paper in.her.pants. IN THEM. How the hell could I manage doing that without her feeling it? I’m a modern day Houdini. That’s what I get for trying to be kind. I responded with, ‘Don’t be embarrassed, lady. Everybody poops!’ …. Didn’t her parents teach her that?
2. I saw this on the front page of Yahoo the other day. I mean, is this really news-worthy? ‘Adult knows how to feed himself?’ Congratu-fucking-lations! You’ve done what 75% of the population does. Making your own food? How inspiring! How brave! I understand a lot of people who work get lunch out, but surely there’s a time when everyone has gone at least three days making their own food, right? Especially in the poor college years. I eat at home every meal besides maybe one a week, so I’m expecting a feature on the front page of Yahoo any day now. If you’re a journalist, hit me up. It will be a top article. I promise. Everyone else – keep your eyes peeled for my grand debut.
3. Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night and suddenly have a light bulb go off? Like, your mind has a moment of clarity and everything in your world just seems to make sense all of a sudden. I had this last night. I woke up out of a dead sleep and realized something amazing – The french fry brand ‘OreIda’ is Oregon and Idaho mashed together. Did you know that? Genius. Pure genius. Why was I thinking about french fries at 3 am? Who knows. I don’t even like the damn things. Apparently it was an important mystery my subconscious needed to solve.
1. I’m going to be honest here – you guys scare me sometimes. Not the majority, but more so the people that land on my blog by random search terms. I don’t know why people are searching for ‘shameful awkward mom porn’ or ‘sheep boobs’ and landing on my page, but there is zero porn here. Zip. Nada. I’m pretty sure I’ve never even talked here about sex before. Is that what Google thinks of me? They lump me in with the porn sites so I’m attracting all the perverse freaks of the internet? Maybe I should give them what they want. I can start posting pictures of sheep boobs. Here you go, weirdos.
2. I keep seeing online that people are calling Lady Gaga ‘fat’ and saying she had a ‘pot belly’ during her halftime performance the other day. What the hell is wrong with people? I wish I could drag everyone who said this crap by their hair and smash their face into a vat of horse semen. (Okay, now I’m starting to understand why I get the porn lovers.)
If this is fat, then I must be the size of Hagrid when he’s nine months pregnant.
3. I really don’t care if you hate that I swear or not. It drives me crazy that people purposely stalk my posts and go out of their way to tell me how bad of a person I am multiple times a week through comments because I throw a swear word or two into my writing. IT’S A WORD, PEOPLE. I’m not hurting anybody. It’s not like I’m going into public and telling kids to go fuck themselves and punching them in the face. Not that it’s any of your goddamn business if I was. I’m 30. Not 12. I don’t need lectures from people twice my age like they’re my mother. I’ve had to block TWO people this week from my site due to them doing this for nearly a year now. If the ban didn’t work – hopefully they will see this and kindly f u c k o f f. (End rant.)
Dear random woman in the movie theater last night,
It took every ounce of my being to refrain from getting up, bitch slapping you, and dumping my blue raspberry slushie on your head. You know how they ask you to ‘please silence your cell phones?’ The same goes with your trap. For the love of God – keep it shut. If you can’t keep yourself from the incessant gossiping and talking about how shitty your love life is for three hours, a movie theater isn’t the place for you. Next time you should try going to your friend’s house or going out to dinner. Anywhere but a place that 98% of the people there have the expectation of silence and enjoyment. Thanks for making the most terrible movie I’ve ever seen worse. Do you ever stop?! Ahhhhhh…
PS – You owe my husband an apology because I crushed his hand while holding myself back from saying something to you.
From: Blair (and I’m sure everyone else in the theater. They only turned and looked at you 50 times but you never got the hint.)
(Have any of you seen The Revenant? Seriously…. don’t. And yes, I still enjoy a blue slushie. You only live once, right?)