Copy cat

I've been wondering about how to introduce my new identity as a Wisconsinite to the internets at large. It feels as though moving to this random midwestern state is reason enough to start writing again.

After all, who doesn't want to hear about the escapades of two Canadians in imperial measurement land!

Like me trying to order turkey in grams with the deli counter worker looking quizzically at me when I declare "Two hundred, please."

Or the Duke ordering a half-gallon of beer to go from a pub not realizing how much a half-gallon really was, and thus getting wasted out of a sense of obligation to his already purchased jug of beer.

Also, apparently Americans don't know what a garburator is. And laugh at Canadians who say it.

(BTW, it's a garbage disposal.)

But, amidst my contemplation about how exactly to jump back into the land of anonymous self-disclosure... someone pulled me back in.

Apparently someone still likes me enough to read me... and to plagiarize me.

Not even a real post, mind you. Just my "About Me" section. You know that little thing in the left hand corner babbling about neologisms and staring in people's windows? Yeah, that one.

NOT this one:

Thank you, anonymous commenter, for pointing this one out.

Anyways, it turns out that our friend Katie (she of the surely soon to be defunct Mommy Outnumbered) is quite heavy handed at the copy and pasting. My random googling turned up at least 10+ people she'd ripped off (including the freaking Bloggess- come on, how's that going to go unnoticed?). By the angry comments on her website, it looks like there's a ton more.

I remember these mini-scandals back when I was a little more entrenched in the blogging scene. People were rightfully pretty incensed about others stealing their words, especially in blatant disregard of copyright statements. This woman took it even a step further-- she copied someone's post mourning her dead mother, and another about a woman's child who had recently passed away. You've got to wonder about the motivation to try to almost usurp someone's identity like that. That's no longer about just getting lots of complimentary emails swooning about how witty you are. That's trying to gain unwarranted sympathy from someone else's pain.

But, hey, we apparently both like dogs with cones on our heads. So there's that!

How tenure can help your sex blogging career

I've written before about the hazards of blogging. It never is quite as simple as proclaiming freedom of speech. People judge and people have stake in your public persona. I'm becoming more and more aware of this as I scour the internet in advance of my exit from grad school and my entrance into the real working world-- detagging myself from unflattering photos, increasing my Facebook privacy settings, regularly Googling myself just to ensure there is not a webpage dedicated to antics from my 19th birthday party.

Still, there's nothing like a few high profile cases-- both to remind us that anonymity can be fleeting, as well as the awesome hypocrisy involved.

Case #1- Anonymous sex blogger, who writes about her sex life and reviews pornography, through a Twitter/Google malfunction, accidentally links her real name to her blog, which is promptly found by her boss.

Case #2- California State University professor's non-anonymous website, in which he focuses extensively on the how-tos of being a sex tourist in Thailand (including how to pick up grieving women at a temple and getting lap dances from teenagers), also gets discovered by his superiors.

Guess who gets fired?

The moral of this story? Be careful what you put online. Or just try really hard to get tenure.

In which Facebook ruins my teenage crushes

I realized the other day that I know the current whereabouts of the majority of the guys I've ever dated or had a serious crush on.

There's something a little underwhelming about the reality of this.

There was that point, sometime after leaving my home town, where, in the midst of a big city where I knew such a minuscule fraction of its inhabitants, I would wonder "whatever happened to so and so" and if I would ever run into them on a random street corner again.

(Of course, the only one that this ever happened with was The Worst Boyfriend Ever.)

Then Facebook happened, and they all stopped being mysteries.

This really hit me when, one random recent Saturday morning, I received an email informing me that Russ had added me as a friend on Facebook.

Russ' and I's history can be summed up quite simply. I'd met him a few times. We never had much of a conversation, but he made it clear whenever we met that he thought I was hot. I had recently broke up with a long-term boyfriend, so I called him. We made out on a handful of occasions, and maybe went out on a date or two. He got annoyed when he discovered that my "I'm-not-looking-for-a-relationship" did not mean "I'm-looking-for-no-strings-attached-sex", and we quickly faded out, relegated to obligatory nods if we ran into each other to make it clear there were no hard feelings. I honestly never knew much beyond what movies he liked.

Yet, 10 years later, he adds me on Facebook. I'd noticed him on it before, but never saw much of a point of contacting him. What, exactly, would we have to say? Remember that time we made out during Sleepy Hollow? Or the one time we had coffee? Still, out of sheer curiosity, I accepted, wondering his motivations-- of which there seemed to be none. I said hi. He said hi. That was pretty much it.

Now, as it it wasn't odd enough that I know what my high school boyfriends are doing with their lives, I even know what the guy I made out with in college is doing on Friday night (apparently having a BBQ, if you were wondering).

Crushes who nothing ever actually happened with are even more surreal. It seems that when things never really developed the way you'd hoped with a certain person, or when your relationship with them never had a messy end point, you always wonder if they were really that special. And what Facebook has shown me is that, while they may vary on where they end up in life, they are all just so tortuously real.

I remember when I received notification that the guy I fiercely crushed on for the entirety of my 13th year had added me. He was the older boy who teased me mercilessly in the way that only heartbreaking 17 year old boys can, by throwing me into the lake with my clothes on and tango dancing with me in the middle of the street. He had brown hair that always flopped into his blue eyes. He was just so achingly dreamy. I eagerly clicked on his profile, to see what had become of him, more than ten years later. And while he hadn't necessarily changed... he was just so painfully average. Sure, he wasn't ugly, he seemed to be happy and he didn't communicate solely in text speak... but he just wasn't as magically special as I recalled. And he couldn't help but lose a little of that shine in my memories.

Sure, there are advantages to all of this. I'm not gonna lie and say I didn't feel a tinge of smugness when I discovered the lying guy who crushed my heart at 16 gained about 100 pounds. I've also gotten back in touch with many a lost friend, including exes or ex-crushes who are genuinely good people I'm happy to see. Still, I can't help but wonder if there was something to be said about certain people remaining a bit of a mystery.

Things I know that I didn't want to know, thanks to Facebook

Apparently my cousin got her, and I quote, "pussy pierced".

Apparently it initially hurt really badly.

Apparently it will be back and ready for action in 2 weeks.

Apparently it looks great.

Not only do I now know more about my cousin's genitals than I ever hoped to, but so do the rest of her Facebook friends, her aunt, her brother, and her mother.

Oh yes, and her grandmother.

TMI is a vast understatement at this moment in time.

The mask of anonymity

Anonymity does funny things to people.

This is the blessing and the curse of the internet, I suppose. There is a lot of good that has been done by allowing people to explore areas of themselves, with no identifying information or bread crumbs following them. I think of online support groups for individuals with eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, suffering from trauma. I think of gay teens in small towns trying to figure out their sexuality while keeping it undercover.

And then I read the comments on YouTube videos, news sites, Craigslist-- and I swear, I almost lose faith in humanity.

Give someone a screen name and no link to their actual identity, and the stuff they spew out is foul. Misogynistic, racist, homophobic, insulting, and just plain cruel. It is almost as though they are bursting at the seams with this hatred, after having to conceal it in their day-to-day life, such that they are willing to fling it at the first target as soon as they've put their masks on. It is as though the id runs rampant the second they are hidden from view.

The reality is, of course, that the average person doesn't even bother creating this moniker. They check out the video clip or skim through the article without the need to comment. It is all too easy to ignore the thought provoking comments, or even just the plain neutral ones, when there are bolded racial slurs surrounding them.

My main research interest is ethnic discrimination, and you have no idea how many cliched comments I receive about how racism is no longer a problem. While racism is certainly generally regarded as socially unacceptable, these leakages of such hatred online show that these sentiments are still residing in people. Perhaps they know better than to say such things out loud in public locations, but one can hardly argue that having these attitudes simmering below the surface doesn't affect how they interact with minority group members.

(FYI-- Research does say that even the most implicit forms of discrimination, much more implicit than these anonymous comments, do have negative impacts on interpersonal interactions).

In some ways, I am surprised how far these fierce comments extend. This post was brought about by my accidental scrolling through reader's opinions on a local news site's article, in which they berated a woman who had nearly died due to the mislabeling of a Starbucks product (it said there were no nuts in the product when there in fact were)-- the insults were flying about the woman's morality and status as a single mother, as though her anaphylactic shock was a motivated move by a shameless woman.

Then, in other ways, I am surprised where they don't extend to. While I know that a number of my fellow bloggers have received rude and aggressive comments, in my two years of writing, I have never received a comment that I found personally insulting (knock on wood...). Sure, there have been a few that disagreed with my take on things, and one or two that may have stung a little, but nothing ever directly meant to jab at my feelings. In some ways, I think that speaks to bloggers as a whole, that we take our online presence relatively seriously, and try to be genuine in our expressions of it.

Fitting with this, I think of the fact that despite my own cloak of anonymity, it has never occurred to me to abuse it. Sure, now my life is more intertwined with those of you with whom I have started real personal relationships with, but at the beginning, I could have very well been more nefarious. It surprises me sometimes that it has never occurred to me to lie on this blog-- even when to do so would have made for more exciting posts, or a more flattering depiction of me. For some reason, though, presenting myself as genuinely as I can is important. That is why I still appreciate the fact that upon meeting me, I have been told that I match my words well-- despite the fact that I hide these words from those in my day-to-day life. I guess that, despite the opportunity to communicate in a more consequence-free manner (and you know very well that we have all read a post or two that we just want to call people out on), I still find it important to hold the online me to the same ethical standards as the real me. Or maybe it is just that I don't have nearly as much unbridled hatred below the surface...

The one in which Facebook status updates give me nightmares

I sometimes feel as though Facebook gives me way too much information about people's lives. Because of my live feed, I know about casual acquaintances' rampant back-and-forth relationship statuses.... Ann is now single, Ann is now in a relationship with Ryan, Ann changed her relationship status to It's Complicated. I found out that my high school music teacher left his wife via Facebook. Even though I knew my sister and her live-in boyfriend were on the verge of splitting, Facebook provided me with the official notice before the phone rang. Pregnancies and births are old hat at this point via my home page. Hell, I found out an old friend was getting breast implants from her status updates.

Since we've covered relationship statuses and medical procedures, apparently tragedy is the next big ground for Facebook to seize onto. One woman I know detailed her mom's heartbreaking sudden diagnosis with terminal cancer, starting with "Carrie can't think of any way to tell Facebook her mom is dying" to "Carrie's mom died today." Psychgrad previously wrote about someone whose mourning led them to post pictures of their dead mother.

Last night, I was scrolling through status updates, when an old high school friend's caught my eye. "Rebecca is shocked. RIP Anton." My mind immediately goes to Anton, a mutual friend, whose mother used to make us chocolate chip pancakes, who had a catapult in his backyard, who played a mournful song on the saxophone in the school courtyard when Marissa died, who was tall, quiet, and unaware of all the girls pining after him, who is now studying art. I shoot her off a quick message, asking her if it was indeed that Anton.

I start clicking through other friends pages rapidly. He is not on Facebook, but his sister is, and her profile picture is of her and him in the outdoors. There is nothing out of the ordinary there. I know that if the update was "RIP John", I might give it some passing thought, but Anton was too rare of a name for me to just discard it. I hate myself for wishing this misfortune on another Anton, not my Anton.

We curl up on the couch. I watch TV. I try not to ruminate, as I know this is my pattern, and there is no use grieving until I know the truth. I also know that, in all probability, it is someone else. At the same time, I feel a little guilty laughing.

No reply by midnight. I crawl under the covers. I dream that I log into Facebook and have many, many messages, all from Anton and I's friends. They tell me he had a recessive genetic condition that let to him collapsing after having a few drinks. They share memories of him. In this dream, I am checking my laptop in bed, so when I wake up in that same bed, it takes me a moment to shake the feelings off.

Still no message from Rebecca when I awoke. I start to vaguely resent her for putting up these words, for not knowing how many people would see them and worry about our Anton. At the same time, I know this is not fair to hold someone in mourning to my standards of logic.

Finally, at 9:08am, one line. "No another Anton."

She changes her status to clarify this, and I see she has joined a group in memorial of this Anton. He looks young and happy. 

And I lament for the people who are going to find of his passing by an invitation to join a Facebook group.

Choosing sarcasm over superstition

Bad luck in threes seems to be my bare minimum. 

Fours and fives are seemingly more of the norm. 

(see here and here for prime examples)

This is apparently even the rule with the most minor of inconveniences... as you probably figured out by now was the case for today.

I arrived at work to find out there had been some sort of massive scheduling snafu come fall regarding myself and my coworker, which needed to be resolved pre-coffee, and resulted in me spending far too long with a bottle of white out and the scheduling book.

It is, of course, only once the white out has been filed away that I get an email from my co-worker stating that he is going to have to switch around his shift in the new semester. Not only does this require another round of white-outing (let's declare it Fumes Friday!), but it turns out his supervisor wants him to come in on my day (we're all graduate students and only work part-time)... which means that my careful scheduling for the new semester has been thrown to the dogs.

As today was only my half day at work, I did my little public transit routine up to campus, where I was set to do an assessment of a fellow. Who decided not to show up and not to pick up his phone.

It was only after having already wasted a good chunk of my afternoon that I realized I had left my memory stick back at my workplace-- for the second time this week!- and it was back on the bus and the train for me. Of course, this little detour put me on a train that was delayed due to a medical emergency.

It was only when I finally made it home, and found myself unnaturally irritated that the smoothie place's debit was down and I would have to make my own snack that I realized what a day filled with little stupidities it was.

Anyways, in an attempt to brighten things up a little (we're pretending that I'm not about to use a bottle of wine for the very same purpose), I decided to steal a fun little meme from Jenn's place.

The idea? Find five cards from someecards.com (aka. funniest website on the planet) that describe you...

This one is incredibly topical, considering today my mother used a word processor for the first time ever. She called me at work to ask me how to spell a word because she knew the red squiggle underneath it meant it was wrong, but didn't know how to check. She also asks me if I've "internetted" my friends lately. I'm actually a little sad she's learning to use the computer... it just seems so un-her.

I get oddly sad when I discover that the Duke hasn't been Facebook stalking me near enough or hasn't read my latest blog post... since, you know, we don't live together or anything.

Wait. We do.

Eight years and counting, baby!

(Though real work does sound really dreamy. Particularly the idea of scheduled hours rather school leaking into everything.)

Woo! Validation!
Sometimes a girl needs to enjoy mashed potatoes guilt free. 

And there's something about saying "fuck eating healthy tonight" that feels more liberating than simply eating crap without acknowledging that you shouldn't be.

Sued for trolling?

Two Yale law students, fed up with threats and lies being printed alongside their full names at the law school admission forum, AutoAdmit.com, filed a lawsuit against multiple anonymous trolls. Thus far, three of these trolls have been identified, and will likely have their names published in court proceedings. Efforts are underway to identify the remaining trolls, who, amongst other slurs, threatened sexual assault and made claim that the women had sexually transmitted diseases. The complainants claimed that the number of posts led to these slurs being the first item listed with their names on major search engines, and that multiple complaints to the site administrator led did not lead to a removal of these posts or banning of the trolls. 

Although the suit has yet to be resolved, and the article suggests that it is questionable it will even make it to trial, it has opened up the proverbial can of worms regarding anonymity over the internet and free speech. Up until this point, lawsuits against trolls had been thrown out, under the cover of freedom of speech and rights to private expression. 

In my eyes, these individuals clearly crossed the line-- uttering threats should never be lumped as freedom of speech, which originally had far nobler intentions regarding political freedoms, rather than giving random people full right to slander individuals or groups for shits and giggles. I also think it serves as a good reminder that the internet is not supposed to be the lawless Wild West. Simply because you can hide behind a screen and say things you wouldn't want attached to your real name doesn't mean you have free rein to be malicious. It also serves as a reminder that none of us are nearly as anonymous as we would like to believe, screen names, phony back stories and avatars aside.

As the internet worms its way into our day-to-day lives to a greater extent that anyone would have predicted, we are witnessing issues that have not had to be considered before coming to the front stage. The access this medium provides to different populations and subcultures has had tremendous benefits-- a billion examples come to mind, like the teenager in a small Southern town, struggling with his sexual identity, who is able to find some solace through these wireless yet concrete connections, and who is able to be open about his identity, if only behind a screen name at first. Yet, as with anything this innovative, there is always the potential for abuse. I am appalled at some of the hatred I have seen spewed out on various forums, all behind the veil of anonymity. I sometimes wish I had remained a little more sheltered, so as not to know that all it took was a screen blocking their faces to reveal the hatred, misogyny and racism simmering within some people.

This case brings up many interesting questions. Should trolls and others who engage in online harassment, which may or may not cross into the realm of that described in this lawsuit, be subject to identification? Should people have a right to anonymity online? If so, where does the line between stating one's opinion and trolling lie, and how can we identify it? Does the identification of people by their IP address set a dangerous precedent for tracking people for a variety of reasons? 

What do you think?

Wealthy men... have I got an opportunity for you!

Wealthy men...

... are you tired of spending your money on cars and houses?

... do feel like helping those less fortunate that you?

... are you disappointed that starving African orphans aren't visually stimulating enough?

... do you feel that you can't see concrete enough evidence of your money's impact when you donate to vague causes like homelessness, education, or animal welfare?

... would you like to be able to take the time to get to know the people you are helping, and decide who is most worthy of your generousity?

If you answered "yes" to the above questions, then do I have an opportunity for you!



My Free Implants is the perfect opportunity for you to rid yourself of some excess currency while aiding women cursed enough to have been born with too small breasts.

You can browse our website to hear the tales (and, of course, see the photos) of these poor women, who lack the funds to enhance their mammories themselves. Once you've chosen a worthy recipient (or recipients, if you are feeling particularly philanthropic!), as an official benefactor, you can not only donate to their worthy cause, but engage in live chat with them, as well as receive custom photos and videos (for which you can request special outfits!).

How's that for the donation that gives back? Letters from foster children have nothing on custom videos (and vague other "interactive activities") from these grateful ladies!

Visit our website to hear about success stories, including the inspiring tale of how Morgan was able to achieve her dream of E-cup breasts.

We hope you will find it in your heart to join My Free Implants, and use your wealth to help improve these ladies confidence and self-esteem.*

* Science proves that self-esteem is inextrically tied in to breast size
Check out this highly scientific equation: Bigger boobs = bigger confidence!

Losing touch

In my parents' generation, unless you were prepared to put in extreme effort, people simply lost touch. And, generally, remained out of touch.

In my generation, email helped us stay close to those we were motivated to stay close to, but drifting apart still remained a common enough occurrence. We seem to be going through some sort of generational resurgence of reconnecting with one another en masse via Facebook. "Oh my God, you wouldn't believe who facebooked me!" seems to be the 20-something's standard greeting these days.

Who I really wonder about, though, are the high schooler of today.
Are they ever going to lose touch with anyone?
Are those random reconnections now a thing of the past?

And isn't that a horrendously stifling notion?

Funniest thing ever.

Dave the Obscure Fetish Prankster is definitely NSFW (not safe for work). He calls up phone sex lines and tells the girls he's into really random things... and I'm in awe of how well they go with it! These girls should be in improv!



This hot number involves her role playing everyone's favourite Microsoft office assistant!

Best search ever (almost)

While it may not be lobster panties (see Dorky Dad for that story), I am pretty damn impressed that the search term "Sexual Maypole Dance" leads to my blog.

Hippies need porn, too!

Do you think I can get out of my lease?

As an adjunct to my post on lame housing posts on Craigslist, I bring to you the best roommates wanted ad ever:

Title: Free for the right female

I need a part-time assistant for housework ( laundry, some cooking,kitchen and washroom cleaning,dishes,ironing,vacuum,dusting....etc. DAILY...) decorating and massages as I am single and do not need to be :). Prefer female or 2 females. In return, you will have your own room in a bright, spacious 2 bedroom fully furnished house with all the toys at no charge and all the meals on the house and possibly other benefits. This is an excellent opportunity to save on rent and grocery. Let's help each other with our needs and enjoy this paradise living on acres of secluded living amongst million dollar mansions minutes drive from the beach and shopping. Send your detailed reply with pic and see if your the first to grab this opportunity :)I am looking for 420 friendly females and the house is smoking but ABSOLUTELY no other drugs.Occasional drinking in the hot tub is OK ;)

***
#1- Uh, daily housekeeping does not constitute part-time. As such, this is not exactly a steal of a deal, considering that a job may be hard to hold down with these demands.

Seriously, if you want a full-time escort/house-keeper, you need to offer a little more than a room and groceries! The seasoned escort makes enough to rent a room in one night!

#2- You really need to work on your sexual inneuendo. "2 females", "massages as I am single and do not need to be", "possibly other benefits", "helping each other with our needs" and "occasional drinking in the hot tub". Oh, and the ever so subtle emoticon wink?

I also love that you need to have a picture to reply.

I'm rigging my bedroom up right now to start taking some glamour shots. I certainly want to be the first to grab (*wink*) this opportunity!

Referrals of the day!

The two best, most recent google searches that brought people here:

#1- Google image search for "huge fanny"... sorry for disappointing you, fellow and/or dame from Spain. You just got a picture of a rather large plaid fanny pack.

#2- Regular Google search for "Bitchy Princess". You, sir, may have been somewhat more successful!!

(This is where you all chime in and tell me how I'm not bitchy... if you were wondering.)

Blanket forts are the way to my heart!

I'm totally going to marry this guy.

You only love me for my narwhal

So I've recently become caught up in the ridiculous blog-narcissism that is Site Meter. At first, I was impressed with the number of visitors from seemingly large array of places. However, a little closer inspection revealed that a good proportion of my views come simply from google image seaches for narwhals, as I posted a picture of one in a previous post.

And here I thought my wit was winning people over.
Alas, no, it is a giant skewery tooth-tusk.

Secret porn star?

Every once in a while, since I have a really distinct first name, I google myself and see what comes up.

Today I decided to do a blogger search. I found a few posts specifically relevant to me and a few relevant to other select few other folk who share my name (side note- I didn't even know until a few years ago that anyone had the same first name as me).

The weirdest thing, however, is finding that I am apparently a secret erotica star on blogger. There is a whole slew of dirty stories on different blogs (you know, like hotasianchicks and dirtyschoolgirls dot blogspot sites... I refuse to provide you all with a direct link... it isn't too hard to find them yourself if you really need some dirty stories) starring me and another regular cast of characters. Even weirder is that the rest of the characters (at least what I can tell from the brief descriptions provided... I'm too disturbed to read in detail about my second career as a dirty nurse) have really ordinary run-of-the-mill names.

I guess for all the Sarah's and John's out there, this is nothing new. But for me, it's vaguely creepy. They feel really personalized!

I really hope that someone from high school hasn't remained pervetedly enamored with me or something.