Whenever I read a news story online, I always go to the reader comments after I’m done. I never comment myself. I’m not much of a joiner. But I do love to read the comments from others, which range from indecipherable, to crazy, to intentionally mean spirited, all the way to brilliant. Half the time, the comments are more enjoyable that the story itself.
Tonight, I was reading this story about a lottery winner who died of a drug overdose. The twist to this story was that the woman was arrested back in June for welfare fraud, for continuing to collect food stamps after she’d won more than $700,000 in the state run lottery. This story had everything that would get the Huffington Post community up in arms, so I eagerly raced to the bottom just to read the hilarious comments that were sure to follow.
Then I saw this.
Ok, so when someone types up a four paragraph post, all in caps lock, with every other word spelled wrong, until the post is no longer decipherable as the actual English language, I can get nailing someone for poor grammar. They’ve degraded their opinion by making it impossible to understand.
But adverb correction? Really? Oh, and questionable adverb correction at that. Bad is an adjective that describes the state of an emotion and saying “I feel bad” is actually the correct way to say it. Feeling badly would indicate that something is wrong with the nerve endings in your fingers. Thank you, Grammar Girl.
Regardless of whether its was right or wrong, my point is even if it was wrong, we got the meaning of the commenter’s sentence and that is all that really matters for something as small as a forum post.
I wind up in a lot of forums, and honestly, I see this type of stupid comment time and time again. They’re usually written by some smug, self righteous asshole with nothing better to do than comment on others peoples grammar, because their incapable of making a logical argument. They probably read their own comment over and over again saying “oh, God, I am so smart and now everyone will know how very, very smart I am”. Then they go off to find some other person who dared use a serial comma, or the word “except”, when they should have said “accept”.
If correcting stranger’s grammar and spelling on the internet is the best thing they’ve got going on, then I feel badly for them. I would not however, feel badly if they got hit by a bus.
Also, if there are any grammar police out there tonight, reading this post, who notice any grammar or punctuation mistakes, rest assured that I put them in here just to make you feel important. You’re welcome.
Ok, so I know I already did my own pseudo review of 50 Shades of Shit, which was mainly 4 words of what I thought of the book, and 4500 words plugging my own book, but I just don’t think I made it clear how much I truly hated that awful fucking novel.
Me and my friend Sassy Filipina* went out for dinner tonight. Being that we are both women in our prime, the subject of 50 Shades of Grey came up. And I knew that Sassy and I were kindred spirits when she announced “the fact that so many people like that shitty book makes me lose faith in humanity.”
She totally hit the nail on the head.
All right, now I think we all know that I really don’t have a problem with BDSM. Ok, so I might be a bit more of a dom than I am a sub, but whatever. I know the genre and I know what is good. “The Story of O” and “Stealing Beauty” are good. If you’re looking for a little romance with your kink, then “Away from Me” by Sophie Oak is fantastic. I actually liked it so much that I linked it. That’s how you know I love a novel.
I’m making this clear because I want everyone to understand that both me, and Sassy, who has a bit of a wild side, were not turned off by the novel for its unusual sexual situations. I frequently find myself in unusual sexual situations and will openly admit that I’ve choked more than one dude in bed. At last count it was 3. Two because it seemed sexy at the time, and the third just to get him to shut the fuck up. Seriously, who calls a chick mama in bed? Gross.
No, the reason I hated this awful novel wasn’t the sex. It was the poor writing, one dimensional characters and plot holes the size of a canyon that pissed me off.
Following the initial review, I forced myself to read every last page of the piece of shit, just to make sure I was being fair. Turns out, I was being generous. Let me give you Essa’s synopsis.
Bella from Twilight is doing a favor for her kooky best friend. She goes to interview Edward, who is a billionaire with no definable career. This Edward is not a vampire, but whatever. Despite the fact that Edward is a hot 28 year old billionaire who gets more ass than a toilet seat, he starts stalking Bella because he’s desperate to make her his new submissive. Oh, have I mentioned that she is a 22 year old college educated virgin with a pet unicorn (ok, so I made the unicorn up, whatever) who has never owned a computer? Bella, who talks like Hanna Montana, but thinks like a 90 year old British lady, regularly has conversations with her “inner goddess” (vomit) and spends the majority of the novel blushing and biting her lip while Edward does things to her “down there” (E.L. James’ words, not mine). Then, they both die in a plane crash.
Ok, so I made the part about the plane crash up. That’s just the way I wished it would happen. In reality, this novel frustrated the fucking shit out of me. Why? Because it really did make me lose faith in women everywhere. It’s not about being submissive. Deep down, most women have a submissive side. It’s the fact that such a poorly written piece of drivel, with plot holes, ridiculous redundancies, stolen characters and unrealistic settings did so fucking well. People really like this shit? Is everyone that stupid? Seriously people. This book is the literary equivalent of “The Emperors New Clothes” and soccer moms everywhere are gobbling it up like it’s 0 calorie chocolate while publishers are laughing their way to the bank.
Seriously, fuck you America. Hemingway is rolling in his goddamn grave.
Romance, even Erotic romance, doesn’t have to be pointless smut. It can have a plot. It can have beautiful descriptions and realistic settings. It can have characters who aren’t caricatures. It’s been done and it will be done again. And the writers who worked so hard on those novels get ignored. That just pisses me off.
I’ve said in the past that I don’t pan indie writers. It’s not fair. I’m an indie writer myself and the publishing world gives us a ration of shit for it. But in this case, I’m not panning an indie writer, because as far as I’m concerned, E.L. James is no writer. She’s a bullshit artist who got lucky.
And she owes me 2.99 and 3 hours of my life back.
Just to let you guys know, for the foreseeable future, I’m going to be doing some guest posting on another site, called the Film Annex. Its a pretty good site for videos, movies and the documentaries that you all know piss me off soooo much. This weeks irritant is a video about to possible travel and tourism industry in, um, Afghanistan? Riiiight. I think their motto is going to be “Ignore the Acid Throwing and Enjoy the Mountains.”
Anywho, my post can be seen here.
Good morning party people. Essa is up early for a full day of article writing. I have also started referring to myself in third person, because I’m fancy now, having made it to this lofty rank during yesterdays book giveaway on Amazon.
Even if no one ever wants to pay for my work, at least I know I can give it away!
Anyway, why am I blogging at 9:30? Simple, I ran into another worldwide issue that I think I can fix. You all need my help and I’m here to give it.
This morning as I was driving to the store for my gas station coffee and daily dose of lung cancer statistics, I heard an interesting news show on the radio. It was called 2nd Date Update.
Basic run down; two people go on a date. Person 1 thinks it went swimmingly, while person 2 drops off the map to parts unknown. Person 1 then reacts in the way any normal person does…by calling their local radio station and having the DJ hunt down person 2 like they’re America’s Most Wanted, so they can demand an explanation and hopefully, get a second date. Needless to say, it rarely ends well.
Personally, I think anyone not getting a call back after date one should know where they stand and move on, but that’s just me. But before you put your radio station on speed dial for a hefty dose of public humiliation, I’m going to give you a way to find out when it’s really over so you can accept it, move on, and not look like a psycho in the process.
So, without further ado, I present Essa’s Guide to Break Ups
The Houdini – A Houdini is instantly recognized by the sound of silence. Your phone calls don’t get returned, nor do your emails. When your stalking your quarry’s Facebook, they always seem to be offline. If you talk to the object of your affection’s friends, they always say something along the lines of “Oh, they’ve been really busy lately. I’m sure they’ll call you back soon.” What it means? Not into you at all and they’re never calling you back, no matter how much their friends tell them to. Now, before you go getting all pissed off, let me explain something. It is perfectly acceptable to pull a Houdini after only the first or second date. At that point, the relationship is in its trial period and the purchaser has the right to return without explanation. If someone has pulled a Houdini after date 1 or 2, don’t be a psycho. Get over it and move on. If they pull a Houdini after 6 months of dating, then feel free to key that motherfuckers car. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re required to.
The Gentle Fade Out – The gentle fade out is a little more subtle that the Houdini and is men’s number 1 choice when it comes to break ups. Instead of the immediate radio silence you’ll get with the Houdini, the stretches of time between speaking to your mate gradually increase. They’ll go one day without calling you, then 2, then 4, until their not calling you at all. After a while, the relationship just fades away, no nasty confrontational fight needed. Again, the gentle fade out is only acceptable during the early stages of the relationship, using within the first month of dating. If you’ve reached they stage where you’ve agreed to monogamy, it is no longer acceptable to pull a fade out. Why? Because you need to return that persons license to fuck other people. Otherwise, you’re just being rude.
The Jekyll and Hyde – If your mate has suddenly become captain mood swing, you may be a victim of the Jekyll and Hyde breakup. In this case, the other party isn’t sure if they want to dump you, so their trying to instigate you into dumping them. They’ll start losing their temper over everything, nag you constantly for no reason and do things to purposely push your buttons. My advice? Take the bait and dump their ass. Who wants to deal with that passive aggressive bullshit? Jekyll and Hyde daters have a high return rate, and can be very difficult to break up with because their always changing their mind. When dumping someone who was trying to dump you using this passive aggressive method, its best to return fire with the Houdini method. Go with radio silence and move on. Oh, and there is NO period of time when the Jekyll and Hyde is appropriate. It is the preferred break up method for passive aggressive pussies and no one should have to put up with that shit.
The Transitional Break Up – We all know how this one starts. “Its not you, its me. I’m just at a point in my life where I don’t feel ready for a relationship.” Translation? “It’s you and I’m just at a point in my life where I feel like I could do better.” This is the preferred method for people who are dumping their high school or college sweetheart. This one can happen at any time in the relationship and is used because while the person may not want to see you anymore, they still want you to like them. Maybe you have mutual friends and hang in the same circle. Regardless, their trying to break up without causing a scene or any hard feelings. They are the most unrealistic and optimistic of all breaker uppers and they’re living in a fantasy world.
The Brutal Honesty Break Up – This break up is different from all the others for one important reason. There is no out. Once you do a brutal honesty break up, you can’t go back. No only have you burned the bridge, you salted the earth behind it. The brutal honestly break up is usually done drunk and involves something called ‘word vomit.’ You mainly just confront your mate with a list of every single thing that is wrong with them, every little thing they’ve done to annoy you, and every single physical imperfection they have. While the brutal honesty break up is also most commonly associated with a domestic disturbance police visit, it is also the most effective of all break ups. Just make sure to use it sparingly.
Getting dumped is never fun. I think we can all agree on that. There really is no good way to dump someone and people need to give up the fairy tale that they can break up and still remain best friends. Its not going to happen and even if there is no emotional connection left, one party is always going to have that feeling of resentment because they weren’t good enough. Rather than beat yourself up for not being good enough following a break up, do what I always do. Put on your nicest outfit, fix yourself up, pour yourself a drink…and fuck their hottest friend.
Trust me, you’ll feel better.
What can I say? I have low self esteem. Of course, my current cheapness has nothing to do with my sexual promiscuity. I call that being liberated.
It’s more to do with the fact that I will be having one final free day for my book, Strangely Sober. It will be available in Kindle format for the next 24 hours for a 100% discount. This is the last time to get it for free, unless you win the Goodreads give away. (current odds 1:1045) Kindle aps can be downloaded onto any e reader, laptop or smartphone if you don’t own the Kindle outright. Just check out the Amazon site.
Following the giveaway, I will be pricing the book at a whopping $0.99 pending the release of the sequel, Asymmetric Angels.
Support your local indie author so I can stop spamming my own blog. Don’t make me resort to chain mail people.
I’ve noticed some odd search terms coming up in my results lately and have decided to help the misguided souls on my site who might be looking for something I haven’t provided so far.
To start with, everyone who was googling the following terms;
Seriously, kill yourself. You need to die. In fact, if you’re too much of a pussy, I would be glad to show up at your house sometime between dusk and dawn and do the deed for you. Just so you know, it will be slow and painful. What, I thought you liked it kinky? Fucking pervert. Just so you know, I’ve started tracking IP addresses. If I ever get a terminal illness, expect me at your door with a syringe full of animal tranquilizer. If I’m going down, I’m taking a few assholes with me.
Save money. Just go to a farm with a really lax security system.
I think he looks something like this?
Also, this one:
Honestly, I didn’t know there was more than one book. But I can tell you that if you have any favorite book of the bible, you’re probably in the wrong place to search for its meaning. If I had to pick, I would go with the Guttenberg Bible, because its worth an assload of money. What does that say about me? I like money.
Holy shit, you’re looking for my panties too?!? Just to narrow it down, they’re somewhere between my place and Pine Hills. You take the east side of town, I’ll take the west. They’re blue, bikini cut, and they say “Saturday” on them, because when I wear them, I feel psychic.
Dude, telling your girlfriend you got hepatitis from a slip and fall at Walmart isn’t going to work. Just claim you had a blood transfusion or shared a dirty needle. Just don’t say you got it from me…and let me know if you’ve seen my panties.
A few weeks ago, I did an article for yahoo news and a blog on here about being an undecided voter. At the time, I was torn between both candidates and was not sure which way I was going to go in the next presidential election. You’ll all be glad to know that I finally made a decision. What did I decide?
This election day, while millions make their way to their local polling place, I will be sitting at home, watching the Daily Show coverage, and not giving a fuck either way who wins.
I know. I’m a terrible person. It’s my duty as an American to vote. My voice needs to be heard, blah, blah, blah, blah. What if my voice is saying, “uhhh, he’s just one guy?”
We give way to much credence to the title “Commander-in-Chief”. President Obama is apparently personally responsible for the entire economic system of the US collapsing. Before he was even president, he drove to peoples houses and forced them to take out varying interest rate loans they couldn’t afford. Then, he drove to all the banks and forced them to offer loans to people using deceptive business practices and non existent income criteria.
He was one busy mother fucker and if we reelect him, he might do it again!
Then Romney. Why if he gets elected, he’ll reverse Roe v. Wade, outlaw gay marriage and take away our birth control. Oh, wait. Let me give all that shit a smack down.
Roe v. Wade – We are aware that every single republican nominee since 1973 has been threatening to overturn Roe v. Wade but still hasn’t managed to, right? Why? Because it takes a little more than a president saying ‘ok, that’s overturned now.’ The supreme court makes that decision and the president has no power over the outcome. But Romney will appoint a judge that will rule in his favor! Really? Obama appointed 2 during his term, so guess whose potential appointment is getting cancelled out…provided Romney even gets the chance to make an appointment?
Gay Marriage – See everything listed for Roe v Wade, then add in the fact that we have a democratic majority.
Birth control – Birth control will still be legal, it’s just whether or not your employer will have to pay for it that’s the issue. Newsflash. Your employer has a choice between covering your $30 a month prescription or your $10,000 labor and delivery bill, with 6 weeks of maternity leave as well. What do you think your employer is going to choose? Trust me, your depo shots aren’t going anywhere…unless you work for the Westborough Baptist church or Rush Limbaugh. If that’s the case, you have my sympathy.
Campaign promises are like my parents promises to take me to Disneyland. Used at the time to keep us behaving, but 4 years in, we still don’t have a pair of Mickey ears. Decisions aren’t made based on popular votes, their made based on what the company who is contributing to the candidates election fund wants done.
You wanna have a say? Then fuck voting; be a billionaire instead. Then you can have all the rights you want. The rest of us are just living on their scraps and we are seriously deluding ourselves if we think one president is going to change anything based on what they promise in their campaign.
We are electing a figurehead. Someone who makes the country look nice. That’s why we like our presidents handsome, but not too handsome. Non-threatening handsome. Think JFK.
Oh the hate mail I’m going to get for this post. One thing voting enthusiasts love to tell me; “Did you know that more people vote for the American Idol winner than the next president?”
My response, “well, that makes sense, because when their voting for the next American Idol, their vote actually matters.” When I vote for a president, my result is the same arguments being rehashed over and over again by congress until something more interesting comes along. When I vote for an American Idol, I get Ruben Studdard singing sensual R&B in a way that makes me spontaneously orgasm.
So this election day, while most people are trying to find a parking spot in their local high school auditorium or civic center, I’ll be participating in the election the best way I can think of.
By having graphic sexual fantasies about John Stewart from my couch.
Happy Election Day everyone. May you make the right decision…or no decision at all.
I have an economic theory about the dangers of low prices that I would like to share with all of you today. It’s based on some experiences I have had, and I’m pretty sure I’m right.
When I was first starting out in article writing, I had a per word rate that was reasonable, competitive and on par with most other writers at my level. I had a few jobs trickle in, but definitely not a flood of work and definitely not enough for me to get by on. So I dropped my price and suddenly the orders started rolling in. Unfortunately, all the instructions for these orders looked like this.
“Please write article based on keyword “genuine imitation alligator leather purses Brooklyn NY”. Please write 500 words. Please use the exact keyword phrase 25 – 35 times. Please make the subject interesting and informative. Please be useful of good English.”
So yeah, I was getting more work, but who exactly was I catering to? These clients didn’t care if my articles were decent, and they didn’t care if my work made sense. They just wanted to pay next to nothing for the jobs and saw no value in my product. If I had kept going the way I was, I would have had a group of clients with no loyalty whatsoever, who didn’t give a crap about quality, and who would dump me for the next cheaper writer as soon as they came along. I would have clients who expected to get next to nothing and were happy with subpar service as long as they didn’t have to pay too much for it.
Are you listening Walmart?
Walmart, the super discount store of infamy, is the perfect example of this incredibly dangerous practice at work. Ask any middle to upper class person what they think, and you’re likely to get groan and a horrible story about shopping there. Walmart got their client base by undercutting the competition at ridiculously low prices. At first, everyone was happy. A store that catered to the blue collar workers of this country! A store that catered to the middle class! It was about friggen time.
Then, that awful segment below the middle class found out about it. The 24 year old women with six kids, with 5 different babies’ daddies and one on the way, who views children as a welfare check. The recent parolee, who needs to pick up steel wool and baking soda at a discount. The people who think that letting themselves get morbidly obsess entitles them to a handicapped parking spot.
It doesn’t, and it’s not a fucking thyroid problem.
As the dregs showed up, Walmart decided to cater to a new consumer. The ‘they probably won’t give a fuck’ consumer. Walmart stopped cleaning the bathroom. They stopped cleaning the floors. They crammed the isles with as many impulse buy products as possible, until its near impossible to get one cart down those slender rows…never mind a 400 pound man driving one of those motorized sit down carts. They beefed up security, because unfortunately, their new market segment tends to have sticky fingers.
And they stopped hiring employees who gave a crap. Instead, their interview consisted of one question. “Will you work for minimum wage or less?” If the answer is yes, then they were given a blue smock and their own register.
Walmart started treating hiring employees like they were buying product. They didn’t care about quality, the only thing that mattered was price point. So they get employees who make it clear to the customer that they hate their job, can’t do basic math and regularly spend the day hiding out in the bathroom that they never clean.
So, Walmart’s new look now includes a dirty store, rude employees and sleazy customers. And they were surprised when their middle class segment started leaving their stores in droves to go shop at Target instead?
I’ve learned my lesson about ‘low, low prices’. It’s not just a matter of ‘you get way you pay for.” Instead, I’ve learned another economic lesson. It’s called ‘you get who you cater to.’
I’ll stick to catering to people who give a shit about quality.
So I have spent the majority of my Sunday watching a delightful series called “Snapped”. For those of you out there who haven’t spent most of your Sunday watching Lifetime (probably all of my male readers) I’ll give you a synopsis.
Woman gets sick of male family member, usually a husband or boyfriend. Woman comes up with a detailed plan for offing said family member. Woman makes a stupid mistake during offing. Woman gets arrested and goes to jail.
Again, in my desire to help everyone do everything better, regardless of legality, I think I can help. Below, please find a listing of constructive criticism and helpful tips when considering offing a friend or family member.
1. Do not enlist the help of your weakest willed or stupidest friend. This always ends in disaster. Think of it this way. If you are capable of browbeating someone into killing a person with you, then the cops are capable of browbeating that person into turning informant against you. If you need a hand, then hire professional. Personally, I find a copy of “Soldier of Fortune” magazine to be an excellent way of finding the right independent contractor for all my wet work needs.
2. Never use your personal computer to look up any of the following items;
- How to dispose of a body
- How to find a hit-man
- Life insurance terms
- Directions to swamps, landfills or vacant lots
If you have already screwed up (chances are, if a Google search term brought you to this page, you did), don’t worry. Not all is lost. Don’t waste your time deleting browser history and temp files. When the cops impound your computer, their going straight to your hard drive, where those annoying little files exist forever. Instead, you must take out your hard drive. Some people would recommend using acids or intense heat to destroy a hard drive, but there is a much easier way to get rid of it, and still make it look like an accident. All those magnets on your refrigerator? They just found a new home on your computer tower. Yeah, your computer is going to be destroyed. But what sounds worse? Spending $400 on a replacement on eBay, or spending the next 60 years in prison?
3. Do NOT make any major financial changes or take out any insurance policies within the 6 months prior to the ‘accident’. That just screams motive. Yes, you’re in a hurry to cash in on the double indemnity clause, but good things come to those who wait. Be patient.
4. Try to make it look like an accident. Watch a few episodes of “Dexter” to get an idea of how blood spatter works. If you’re faking an intruder, don’t be a pussy. Give yourself more than a superficial wound but avoid any major organs. You don’t want to turn your well planned homicide into an accidental murder suicide.
5. If everything has worked out and you’ve been able to cash in on your insurance policy, don’t get lazy or do anything to arouse suspicion. Wait a year before moving in a boyfriend or getting those size F implants you’ve always wanted. Above all, don’t do it again. Nothing draws more suspicion that a woman with a long string of dead husbands.
Of course, I’ve just broken all my own rules when writing this column. However, as I was smart enough to never get married in the first place, I don’t have anyone in need of immediate ‘offing’ and I genuinely hope I won’t in the future, because now I can’t. So let my sacrifice by your guide. Happy hunting everyone.
The long awaited day has finally come. The day that I’ve been waiting and hoping for. The day that felt like it would never come, like it would never happen, and I would be miserable forever.
I got fired! And fired in the right way, with the severance package and bells and whistles. If I wasn’t so out of shape, or even remotely flexible, I would do a back flip. But I’m not so I won’t because I don’t have health insurance anymore.
I guess most people in my position would probably be upset, worried, tearing their hair out. Unemployment rates are sky high and the maximum weekly unemployment benefit in my state is among the lowest in the nation, at a whopping $275.00. I have terrible credit, a black mark on my record for getting fired and I may be entirely unemployable.
Thank God for that.
My fear of financial ruin was only outweighed by one thing. My intense hatred of my job.
Whenever I used to say that, I would always get the same idiotic response from someone, usually along the lines of “everybody hates their job.”
Why the hell does that make it ok? For some reason, people think that as long as everyone else is miserable, its ok for them to be miserable too. The only goal in mind is the ability to make it to Friday, so they can have a weekend that disappears in the blink of an eye, followed by another week of doing the same thing over and over again. At least well Bill Murray did that in Groundhog Day, he learned a valuable lesson…and how to make an ice sculpture with a chainsaw.
Unless you’re a rich trust fund baby, the majority of your waking hours will be spent working. If you’re miserable when you’re doing that work, then in all honesty, your life is miserable. That’s not ok, and it should never be ok, not even if Bob from accounting is just as miserable.
People don’t die regretting the hours they didn’t put in at their cubicle, so they could bloat some corporate blowhards bank account. They die regretting not following their dreams, not trying for more, and not living like everyday will be their last.
For me, the ten years I would have probably lived after I retired (let’s be honest here, I’m probably not making it much further than 60) weren’t going to be enough. So instead, at 32, I’m starting over.
The way I see it, I’m pretty good at two things. The first one is writing, and the second is snorting lines of Pixie Sticks without sneezing. So if the writing career doesn’t pan out, I have something to fall back on. Awesome.
In all seriousness, I know I’m not always going to get to write what I want. Some days, I’ll be writing boring articles about Social Security Disability and back injuries until my fingers bleed. But at least I won’t wake up dreading everyday anymore. Instead, I’ll push through the boring articles so I can work on my books instead or so I can write angry rants for all my blog followers’ entertainment. Because every word I write makes me a better writer, even if those words are boring as fuck.
And if none of that works out, there’s always Taco Bell. I look pretty in purple.
So, in conclusion, I would like to thank my former employer for firing my ass. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.