Category Archives: Etiquette

RANT: Entitlement & Lack of Gratitude

This is for anyone who’s asked me for ANYTHING in the last three years in social media and|or Life and who hasn’t said thank you. If that means you, you’re seeming like an entitled asshat, and here’s why.

Let’s have a chat.

If you have a question about cooking, something you need help on or want my input with, or you want an invite to Google-plus, or whatever the fuck you’re asking for, well, that’s great, go ahead and ask.

Can I give you a little advice though?

My time isn’t yours. I have a job, and that’s who gets to expect stuff from me without saying “Thank you.” You? Not so much. Not at ALL, actually.

I want to be helpful and kind, I really do, but all the entitlement out there is turning me into the kind of bitch who wants to say no simply because I can.

Why?

Because almost every time I give my time in response to what I’ve been asked — whether it’s actual physical effort or just a reply, I don’t get told “thank you.” Not anymore.

People EXPECT assistance, answers, help. You know what? They’re not entitled to any of it. It’s actually a self-serve world, but we’re lucky people feel tribal and help us out.

I don’t want money, riches, or fame, but I want to know you fucking appreciated the 20 seconds I took out of my VERY busy life to give you my attention merely because you asked for it, and that’s ALL I want in return, a simple “thank you.”

The entitlement I see out there daily is really disheartening.

No one owes you a goddamned thing. Not their time, not an answer, not a nickel,  NOTHING.

Like them, I don’t owe you a FUCKING THING.

When anyone assists you, EVER, thank them.

If you don’t, then people like me are taking notes about who’s appreciative and who’s not. The ones who aren’t, they don’t get my time ever again, because time’s the thing I never have enough of, and it certainly shouldn’t be co-opted by people who don’t deserve it.

It’s the little things in life we can, and do, judge you by.

Rightfully so.

Pay attention, people, and express gratitude to EVERYONE in your life for what they do for you.

Sooner or later, not doing so is liable to bite you in your ass. It’s not just good manners, it’s shrewd thinking.

For me, I’m officially at the point where failure to thank me for my efforts, at the very least, means I’m pretty unlikely to do so for said person again. Real fucking unlikely.

I’m sure I’m not perfect and I sometimes forget to say thanks, but I usually do. It’s a pretty goddamned small thing to ask of anyone.

Wake up, people.

(That bumpersticker up there can be bought at Zazzle: http://goo.gl/dNQ6E)

Twitter: 7 Annoying Behaviours

Problems with Twitter exist on a few levels.

Most of them occur because it’s high school all over again. It’s popularity contests and bragging and teasing and everything else you thought you’d left behind as a grown up. Turns out? The high-school-asshat-inside never really grows up.

Unfortunately — it’s a high school that is AWESOME for promoting businesses and personalities. This makes for a whole world of fuckery.

Over Christmas I think I might try to drastically alter who I follow. Want to make sure you’re not on the list? Don’t be guilty of classes 2 through 7.

In the meantime, what are Twitter things that piss me off? Oh, I’m glad you asked.
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RANT: Guilt-Tripping: What Friends Don’t Do

I had a classic big ol’ Twitter fight with an insensitive fuckwit last night, who I haven’t blocked because I’m not in Grade 5 anymore, but it basically came down to me saying, “No, I’m not coming out because I need some time to myself.”

Long story short: I’ve been up at 5 the last four days, have worked in four days what I usually work in 5, still have to work today, am trying to get back onto a fitness regime & healthy diet, and have slept far too little all week. Add to that that today I should get my period and was therefore a grumpy cunt last night, plus I worked 10 hours during the day on a very mentally-draining couple of projects, then, yes… I thought staying home was a good plan.

Asshat, however, thought he should keep pressuring me on Twitter to come out. I kept saying no, then got more forceful about it. Asshat finally got the point. I said “Toldja,” and asshat got offended that I was such a smug bitch about it.

Oh. So, you, in your insensitive and fuckish way, get to bang a drum that’s totally self-serving, because your cock somehow seems to think it’s necessary I attend a party, but when I bang any kind of a drum, I’m suddenly a cunt. Uh-huh. Ass. Continue reading

Why I Don’t Follow You On Twitter

I tweet incessantly on Twitter. Most of us know this by now.

I also, inexplicably, will hit 1,300 followers probably before the weekend is through. I follow little over 300, quite a few of whom don’t follow me. Whatever.

So why don’t I follow you? Well, it’s not about you, is it? It’s about me getting the most out of the experience for me. It’s about me enjoying my time on there. Not making you happy in Nantucket or whatever. This is my gratuitous fun time, nothing more. Continue reading

Oh, Mr. President.

Take note men. Even the President gives his coat to his woman when she’s a little chilly. In this cute shot taken by the White House photographer on the way to a ball Inauguration night, Michelle’s given his coat because she’s a cold. I love this shot. Love, love, love.

Chivalry might be dead, but maybe, along with civic service, old-school national pride, and a possible economy, maybe it’ll be yet another thing given a healthy boost by Obama. Enter: The Era of Cool.

Sure as fuck beats the era of Blowhard we’re just exiting.

I like my men old-fashioned when it comes to etiquette. I want please and thank you. I want eye contact and a heavy dose of gratuitous complimenting when I put a tasty plate of pot pie before him. I want the door held open, and I want all the old-school manners I was taught in private school.

I want him to be able to be a little bad, too, but only after he’s held the door open for me, y’know what I’m saying? A nice well-timed dirty leer in the middle of a long night goes a long way sometimes.

Oh, Mr. President. I swoon for your community-organizing, big-word-speakin’, coat-givin’, wide-smilin’ ass. This is gonna be a lovely four years. I imagine it’ll be a while before I tire of the contrast between him and W.

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A Frank Posting about Giving Head

I refused to give my “partner” head last weekend. This came as a shock. Having been somewhat drunk on good red wine, I had a good excuse. Truth is, it was an excuse.

Somehow, in all my writing, I’ve apparently made it sound like sitting around with a penis in my mouth is about the best thing I could imagine doing. Like my thoughts are along the lines, always, of “Oh, GOLLY! A cock in my mouth! I’ll take two!”

While some people are that type, and I wish ’em all the power, I’m not. I’m unaware of how this perception that I am has come to be, so let’s clear that up for a second.

I am penis-positive. It’s not the penis, it’s me. More on that after.

Here’s the deal. There seems to be more or less three schools of thought out there on giving head. One is that it’s the best thing ever and having a penis in the mouth is like life coming up all sunshine and roses albeit on the salty side of it all. The second is that it’s a necessary evil, and something one partner does for the other, because that’s just how things are done. The third is that it’s an icky-icky thing to do, and not gonna happen on some people’s watch. (Silly people.)

I don’t fit in any of those categories.

I’m not crazy about a penis in my mouth. Honestly, I’m not. I’m not adverse to it, either. (Well, sometimes.) It’s just not one of those things for me.

However…

My “aversion” is physiological. I mean, I’ve always been one of those people who’s not crazy about taking pills and has to fight the gag reflex at the dentist, so sometimes a blowjob just isn’t that fun… other than what I get out of it — providing that little something for a partner that you just can’t get out of any other sex act. And it’s worth it, for that. Absolutely, without a doubt. Even if it means fighting the gag reflex.

That said…

I really, really enjoy giving one of those detail-focused, drawn-out blowjobs to a guy I’m genuinely into. But it’s not about the blowjob as much it’s about what I’m doing to HIM. It’s about the pleasuring and teasing and taunting, taking to the edge and backing off, and doing it again and again until I’m through with him. That’s quite fun. Yes, it is. It’s power and generosity and control and gift-giving and dominance and wickedness and affection and play, all bundled up into one awesome thing.

I know that blowjobs are something I’m really, really good at. Like, really. There’s a reason my three-year-old Good Girl’s Guide to Giving Great Head [part 1 is here, part 2 is here] is a hugely plagiarized blowjob-giving sex-tip writing on the web, you know.

I believe, if you’re going to do something, you better goddamned do it well. Being a Brownie, Girl Guide, going to Catholic school, and being a librarian and bookseller* has served me well. I’m a keener to perform my services to the best of my abilities, I have a powerful work ethic, overwhelming guilt when I fail, but I’m well-read enough to get it done right the first time.

Having said that? I’m not keen to bring out my number one trick, something I consider the most intimate thing I can do to a man, for any old shag. I’m liable to casually sleep with a man before I’ll give him head, if that makes any sense to you at all.

Nothing like keeping some surprises around about just how far you’ll go to please someone. Always be improving, right? Never stagnate.

Or at least that’s my motto, as old-fashioned as this lay-first, head-later mentality of mine sort of seems.

But I think it’s important to distinguish that, for some of us, it’s not about the penis, it’s about the act and the gift of the action. Maybe that’s not ideal in some mens’ minds, I don’t know, but it’s certainly worked all right in my endeavours.

Any thoughts you’d like to share, dear reader? Femmes, you relate at all, or…?