Is Blogging Different?

Sorry about the abrupt cut-off last time.
It's not the easiest thing to talk about folks who I've hurt.

Here's something interesting, that I haven't really had to deal with too much yet, but then this week it was right up in my damn face.

Someone took (severe) issue with something I once wrote on here. It was anonymous in the strictest sense of the word, but I suppose with a little guesswork (and the actual desire, which I can't see any of you actually having), a person could figure out who the main players were.

Here's today's question: though a blogger blogging about her mundaniac life is perfectly within her rights to blow everything out there on motherfucking front street, is it still shitty? I mean, personal shit goes into short stories and essays of mine all the time. Is blogging different?

Please Weigh In

Hi Friends,

I know. I've been gone. I also know I start every post that way, lately, which sucks. Well, yesterday was my birthday, which is when I tend to make resolutions, so hopefully that will change.

Anyway, I've got a little story for ya, a bit of an ethical situation, perhaps, and as much as I hate to make y'all do work, I'm gonna need you to weigh in.

Here it goes.

Bella and Buster dated, a long time ago. They began their courtship in 2001-ish, dated for several years, lived together for some of those years, and parted as amicably as two people in such a situation can.

During their living-together stint, Buster had a job more consistently than did Bella. Buster paid a lot more than his fair share of the bills and rent until Bella got a job. Buster was great.

Bella would tell him, "Buster, when we are in the situation to do so, I will help you with your old debt to make it up to you."

Bella got a job, and everything started to equal out. Bella started to pay her share, but they didn't hack into Buster's debt yet. Over the duration of their relationship, Bella's mom, who lived in the same city, tried to do little things for them all the time. She bought Buster four new tires when he needed one. She took them on extravagant (albeit, family) trips to Spain, Italy, and Las Vegas (though that was because Bella's mom wanted to see Celine Dion, and she basically forced the fam to do the same, so we can't expect Buster to be too grateful for that. Sorry Celine). She gave Buster a surprise 30th birthday party. She paid for movers for the two lovers when they needed one.

So, unfortunately, the day came when the young couple split up. Nothing dramatic happened, no cheating, lying, or stealing. Just a realization that the two were not well suited to each other.

Years pass. The two see each other occasionally, being that they have mutual friends. While it's not the most comfortable situation on earth, it's not horrible, either.

One day, about four years post break-up (timeline is iffy, bear with me), Buster tells Bella how disappointed he is that she has never helped him with his debt. Bella retorts "why, Buster, we broke up a zillion years ago! Surely it's not still my responsibility to help you with debt accrued before we were even together!"

Buster disagrees. Buster insists. Buster wants money from Bella. Bella brings up all the ways she thinks their relationship evened out, money-wise, in the past, but Buster was not having it. Bella brings up that they both have new lives and this is not how the world works; Buster disagrees.

Bella wonders why Buster has waited so long to bring this up. Bella then finds out that Buster has proposed to his current girlfriend (rings are expensive!).

Debate ensues.

So we ask: does Bella owe Buster money after the fact? Many years after? Tell us. If she does, that's cool, too. Bella can take it.

Anecdotes and Non-Sequiturs

The first:

I was sitting in the coffee shop, listening to two people next to me having a conversation.

Him: Have you seen Monica?
Her: Yeah, she's not doing so well. But it's hard to sympathize, 'cuz she's so annoying.

I do not know these people. They were obviously speaking of a different Monica. But I immediately felt defensive and hurt.

The second:

Boy and I went to a wedding in Madrid a few weeks ago. All was beautiful, and we had a great time. However, if Jesus went to a wedding in Madrid instead of Cana, he would have had to turn the wine into water. I have never been thirstier in my life than I was in Madrid. This seemed like a general consensus amongst the folks I was with. No one had a real reason why.

The third:

I haven't slept in three days. I'm jittery and tired. This week's been bad.

The fourth:

I haven't been even getting pleasure out of hockey these days. Though my team rocks, as usual.

The fifth:

I'm sitting in the coffee shop right now, again, and feeling sorry for myself. This was immediately alleviated, however, when I just heard the opening beats of "That's Not My Name," by the Ting Tings. I defy you to be in a bad mood when you hear this song. Also, two of my favorite people in the world love this song, and they both happen to be under the age of four.

The sixth:

I have re-found a prior love for Jonathan Ames. When me and Boy re-discover our delight in each other, we say we are having a renaissance. I'm having an Amesessance (I AM ALLOWED TO BE A DORK. I HAVE NOTHING ELSE GOING FOR ME RIGHT NOW).

Coma Plans, WYR, Other Things

it's been a while.

also, i don't feel like capitalizing today, so i'm not going to.

i guess the way i can do this best is to write down what i did this weekend, map out what i want to say based on that. sound good? good.

friday. friday was good. i went to see a friend of mine and his ridiculously adorable clown-like dog, and we played a game...an old fave of mine, "would you rather." my favorite thing about this game is picking out the raunchiest, most uncomfortable scenarios, and then forcing people to choose between them. for this reason, many people hate playing this game with me. my ex used to get angry with me, in fact, when (often drunkenly), i would give him one of these fake ultimatums.

my friend and i were really getting into it, and because he and i are very much alike (read: very self-absorbed), there were certain questions that really made us think. here is one of them: would you rather save the lives of five loved ones, or 1,000 strangers in another country (who knows why they had to be in another country). we both picked loved ones. then we changed it to this: would you rather save the lives of five people, and they'd never know it, or let 1,000 strangers die, and EVERYONE would know it. this one, for us, was more difficult. same end, but the difference was that in one, people would hate you. boy, of course, picked saving 1,000 people each time, no matter who knew it or not. he's like that. we're not.

then we met boy and two of my other, delightful, wonderful friends for a few drinks, and had a lovely time all around. i think. i may have drank a bit too much. i pet a great english bulldog mix while we were at the bar. (it was actually a really great weekend, dog-wise, for me). often it's awkward to hang out with friends that have never met, but it was far from it. good times.

saturday. bachelorette party. then we met up with the corresponding bachelor party. fun, but not a lot to say about it without putting anyone's shit on front street (i love that expression).

sunday. woke up. felt droopy. mopey. played with a dog. ate brunch way too late. watched ghostbusters. walked to a brooklyn neighborhood near ours, and saw the bastille day festivities. hit a bookstore for a while. i bought two books, one of which was jonathan ames' the alcoholic, tried to laugh a little. hung out with boy. he had a rough night at the bachelor party the night before.

we had dinner in the bastille-day neighborhood, and i started to get tired. i'd had...not a hangover, exactly, but a sense of sadness and malaise all day (does sadness mean the same thing as malaise? don't i teach english? wow). again, droopy and mopey. at dinner, a little boy sat next to us. he had two small stuffed animals named pablo and austin. he wanted to go home.

i asked boy a question. "if i were to go into a coma, would you secretly be a little bit happy that you could tell people you had a 'girlfriend in a coma?'" he said that he would not, and that even though he loves the smiths, he would be sad about my coma status. and that if he found any kernel of happiness in the whole sordid scene, it'd be that he could, in fact, tell people that he had a girlfriend in a coma.

then i asked him: if i was your wife, and i was in a coma, would you downplay our relationship so that you could say you had a girlfriend in a coma?

he said no, very quickly. i was happy.

then i reminded him of a deal that my friends have, that i've always wanted to get in on. i told him "don't forget to tell n&c to pluck my lip and chin hairs."

"your coma plans are extremely thought out," he told me.

"yes, of course they are. do you have any?"

he told me the only thing he wanted was for me to make sure that no one wrote all over him with a sharpie while he was in a coma.

"oh my god! is that a thing? do that to me, too," i said.

phew. good thing he hipped me to that.

anyway, as we were walking back home, i felt worse. sadder. mopey-er. spoke to my friend via IM, a little. he sounded sad and mopey, too.

right before bed was the worst. sad. lonely. droopy. mopey. sad sad sad. scared. alone.

boy just looked at me and said the most depressing/helpful words i'd heard in a while...
"sometimes i get that way after a rough weekend, too."

A Big Week For Me; Puppy Porn

Despite the fact that, like Ron Burgundy, I've been living in a glass cage of emotion this week, there's several things going on that I'm excited about. First and foremost being that I'm getting my pupster in a few weeks. I can't WAIT to have a dog. As I've been told before, my biological clock is certainly barking. In consideration now:

• A rescue mutt of any kind, medium size (Boy's favorite idea right now. Bu this "of any kind" business freaks me out a bit...you don't ever know what you're getting. But I love mutts. And I love the idea of a rescue).
• A boxer (so lovey! They are prone to fatal health problems, though, and I want my pupster to be around for a long while).
• A French Bulldog (ahhh, oui. I am somewhat against trendy dogs, but that's just Martha Stewart's fault, no one else's. And I admit, I've never thought about the Frenchie thing before. But I am head over heels in love with one right now, and he's really just the best pooch ever).
• A mastiff (my favorite forever, and yes, I know, not practical).
• A pittbull terrier (ditto).

Help, Naked Readers. Not that I'm not doing my own reasearch. Every day I look at what my friend calls "puppy porn."

And yes, there are other things happening right now, good, bad, and confusing, but this is all I choose to get into right now.

Later.