Facebook Etiquette

Sure-fire ways to be hidden on Facebook:

  1. You post pictures of your pets on a daily basis. I have a blog; obviously I love cute pictures of cats as much as the rest of the internet. But let’s just get one thing straight: Your cat is not that cute. And even if it is, the likelihood that you are also a good photographer is slim. If you’re a professional photographer and your cat is some kind of kitten model, my apologies. And yes, every now and then posting a picture of your pet is perfectly acceptable, but if you’re guilty of spamming my news feed with poor quality mobile uploads of your aggressively average looking cat playing with boring cat toys repeatedly, I can guarantee that you’re hidden.
  2. You’ve hopped on the pretentious foodie bandwagon and feel the need to Instagram your every meal or write short stories about your recent culinary accomplishments. In what way do you think you are contributing to your friends’ lives by showing them your greasy Instagrammed hamburger and fries? Do you think it’s artsy? Do you think they genuinely care about what you put in your body? Aside from maybe your mother, nobody cares (and most likely, not even your mom cares). And I’m sorry to break it to you, but your Facebook status is not going to make its way to the producers of the Food Network, so let go of that dream where you magically become Paula Deen’s replacement. The truth is that adding lemon zest to your homemade hummus wasn’t all that inventive. Hidden.
  3. TMI. If you are one of those people who openly discusses recent bowel movements on Facebook, either your own bowel movements or those of your infant’s, there is a special circle in hell for people like you. Fuck off. Hidden.
  4. You post 50+ photos of the exact same moment. Jesus christ, be a little more selective. Believe it or not, your kid is not the first to messily eat an ice cream cone. Yeah, it’s fucking adorable, but I don’t need 50 separate angles of this precious moment. Hidden.
  5. You post even one photo of an exposed pregnant belly. Sure, pregnancy is a profoundly beautiful experience and all that, but a pregnant belly is not. You know what else is an extraordinarily momentous occasion in life? Childbirth. But post a picture of one of those moments and nobody questions whether or not its going to violate my senses. Well, a pregnant belly has a similar effect on some people, ok? Hidden.
  6. You are boring. If I am forced to be your friend, for better or worse, please be better, or worse, but stop being so goddamn void of life all of the time. Remember circa 2005 when you had that cliche Marilyn Monroe quote about how it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring? What happened to you?! Your living room walls are painted a really nice shade of green, but it was entirely unnecessary to post that picture of your legs up on your coffee table with your empty living room in front of you with the caption, “This is my night while hubby is out of town.” Your domestic life sucks, and I refuse to be one of your unfortunate friends that has to learn about the new dishwasher you just ordered. BREAKING NEWS: Nobody gives a shit! Hidden.
  7. You are guilty of Vaguebooking. “I just can’t handle this anymore.” What? What can’t you handle? Tell me, dammit. Don’t leave me wondering. These are the same people who reply with, “I don’t want to talk about it,” when someone asks them what’s wrong. Ugh, go curl up in a ball in the corner of a dark room and scribble in a diary, or better yet, drown your sorrows and cry to the bartender at your local watering hole like an adult. If you continue to treat Facebook like the margins of an emo teenager’s notebook, you are hidden.
  8. Spamming your friends. No, I don’t want to purchase the groundbreaking gluten and cruelty free makeup you’re selling so you can recover some of the money you threw away with the most recent pyramid scheme you were fooled by. Fuck off. Hidden.
  9. You share “Like if….” photos, or other photos of inspirational or religious quotes that have upwards of 5,000 likes already. This. Shit. Is. Garbage. “Like if you agree, share if you love babies, or do nothing if you want a baby to freeze to death tonight.” You know that the action of “liking” a photo on facebook isn’t sufficient activism to solve world hunger, end child abuse, or cure breast cancer, right? You know. I have faith enough in humanity to know that you know this. So STOP IT already. Hidden.
  10. You treat Facebook as your soapbox all day err day. I appreciate political posts much of the time. Trust me, I would much rather you share an informative article or ask an open question which encourages critical thinking and healthy discussions over looking at a picture of the greek yogurt you had for breakfast any day. But there is a tone that some people have which make the rest of us cringe. You know what I’m talking about, when a rant really translates into, “I know you’re dying to hear my opinion on this recent controversy, so I am going to be gracious enough to provide you with my expert analysis. You are so lucky that my job in marketing allows me the flexibility and extra time to waste 20 minutes writing this Facebook status so you can be so well-informed.” Hidden.

Bathroom Etiquette

Nothing beats the moment when you go to brush your teeth and your senses are assaulted with the warm, humid, fetid scent of another person’s bowel movements.  Perhaps only topped by the moment after you stroll out of the bathroom having delivered your own perfumed package, inspired by that so-spicy-it-should-be-illegal Indian food you had for dinner the night before, and find that someone is waiting on the other side of that door to shower.  For those who are progressive enough to poop and run without shame, who literally don’t give a shit when they take a shit, or who inhale the vapors of another person’s bum with nary a shrug, I applaud you and your progressive ways.  For those who can sympathize with my desire to gag when you become too familiarized with another person’s well digested meal (or if you’re feeling the desire to gag from this descriptive posting), then read on my friends for etiquette on how to take a poo without raising a stink (figuratively speaking of course).

1) Have a signal.  If you’ve dropped a stinky oyster into the porcelain ocean, have an established signal to allow a few minutes for the fumes to disperse.  If your bathroom has a fan, pop that fan on and let it run a bit after your leave the pot.  At least then, your roommate/friend/lover can decide when they hear the churning of that fan if they are willing to brave the aftermath of your seated activities.

2) If you’re getting ready in the bathroom, poo at the beginning of the primping session rather than at the end.  Even better, poo before you take your daily shower.  Maximum stink dispersal achieved.

3) Light a candle, spray some spray, do what you need to do.  It really goes without saying.

4) If you know that you’ve really dropped the mother of all bombs, don’t even bother being coy.  If someone starts heading to that bathroom, warn them.  This is not one of those moments when life is made sweeter by words unspoken—make a joke, or just tell them to “give it a moment.”  Unless this person is a total moron, they’ll get it.  Trust me, they’ve been there.  Maybe they’ve had that spicy Indian food too, and they are about to go blow their bowels out in their own impressive fashion.

5) Don’t comment on someone else’s stink—it’s just rude.  Unless, of course, they are one of the above “progressive” types who enjoys potty humor.  Then by all means.  Otherwise, if you pop into the bathroom after friend or lover, don’t reconstruct for them how putrid the experience was.

Subway Etiquette Part 2: The Platform

You people on the platform are the pits. Yes, you. I know you’re one of them. Please wait for us to get out of the train before you begin piling in the train! I promise you, there will be more room for you if you let us off the damn car. If you barrel into me, I will shoulder check the fuck outta  you. As a wise man once said, “Move bitch, get out da way.”

And when transferring, STOP RUNNING. You are not as agile as you think. There are people traveling in every which direction, and you are a hazard to everyone around you.

Picture the scene: You can see the Red Line towards Alewife about to pull in 200 feet ahead of you, and you decide that if you sprint you can make it. People are walking briskly towards you to your left, but there’s an intersection ahead – and oh my god, people are coming from both sides and there are no stoplights to control them. But you don’t see it that way. The only thing you see is that train. God forbid you have to wait 3 whole minutes for the next one. If you don’t get on that exact train, the whole world is going to crumble in ashes around you.

You’re running… running… weaving in and out of the slowpokes ahead of you, carefully bending your body around the cargo bags, jumping over puddles left by the leaky ceilings above… Oh, you’re so fast; you’re definitely going to make it, until…

BOOM!

You didn’t see her. How could you? She’s so small and she was in the blind spot created by the wall of tall men to your right. But you did it. You knocked out Grandma Francis. You’re a fucking jerk.

Walk. Walk briskly, yes. But don’t run the risk of breaking a hip to save yourself a few minutes of time.

Coffee Shop Etiquette

First, it’s a coffee shop, not a library.  If you’re going to camp out and drink bottomless cups of coffee, pay for your refills.  If the place is packed and you’ve been there for an hour and a half and new patrons are leaving because they can’t find a place to sit, don’t be a dumbass, go somewhere else.  It’s a business, it shouldn’t be difficult for them to profit because you think spending $2.50 on a cup of coffee entitles you to 5 hours of uninterrupted laptop camping time.  If you keep insisting on setting up office in the middle of the joint, pretty soon there won’t be a coffee shop to go back to, and it’ll be your self-entitled fault.  To the asshole who is taking up two tables with bags, books, and random other piles of crap, move your shit.  Are you really going to sit there and ignore the people looking around for a place to sit?

Second, tip the barista.  He/she has to listen, with a straight face, to your pretentious order of a double mocha whateverthefuck with skim milk and two splashes of soy.

For people who go to coffee shops to chat, keep in mind that your conversation is probably audible for all who are present. Unfortunately, if you happen to be an annoying person, you will inevitably annoy others around you.  That’s not really an issue of etiquette, it is just an regrettable fact of life.  If people would rather chew glass than listen to the sound of your laugh, if you say the same thing over and over again loudly and in slightly varied ways, as though each utterance is a new and profound thought, or if you say things like “yes well [insert name of pretentious theorist/philosopher/renowned scholar here] would certainly disagree with that contention” in a nasally voice, than you are one of these offenders.  At least try to tone down the volume a little for the sake of the people around you, who are not as convinced of your brilliance as you are.

On the flip side, don’t sit at your laptop and glare at people who are talking.  Coffee shops are where people go to talk and catch up.  Get over it.  And if you’re using music to drown out the chatter, make sure your headphone jack is plugged in all the way.  No one wants to be the awkward, headphone-clad asshole bobbing their head as Pink floods the coffee shop.  Trust me, I’ve been there.  It’s super embarrassing to be that person.

Single people who think a coffee shop is potential hunting ground.  If you’re old enough to be her father or grandfather, do her a favor and leave her alone.  Hitting on her in front of a bunch of people is going to make her uncomfortable, and you’re quite frankly just going to come across as a creepy skeezeball.  A person wearing headphones is employing the universal “leave me the fuck alone” signal.  Believe it or not, some women don’t want to be hit on, especially by old awkward creeps who for some unknown reason think they have a shot.

People with babies and little children.  As shocking as it may seem, some people do not find your children as adorable or entertaining as you do.  A person who is at a coffee shop buried in a book or typing frantically on their laptop probably  did not go to the coffee shop with the hopes of being entertained by your child.  Reign the kid in, and don’t shoot glances at innocent coffee shop dwellers to determine if they are as enthralled with your child as you are.  They’re not.  They are probably annoyed by the attention-seeking little monster, and even more annoyed by their clueless parents.

Ex Etiquette

The most important rule concerning ex etiquette is that, under absolutely no circumstances, are you allowed to move on. Despite the fact that our relationship is over, you must continue to love me, worship me, miss me, and yearn for me. You are obligated to wallow in self-pity for the remainder of your now empty life, cursing yourself daily for being stupid enough to lose me.

At no point in time following our breakup are you allowed to improve your appearance. Don’t even think about stepping foot inside of a gym; you are to let yourself go completely. You know what you want? Cheeseburgers. Fries. How about a little ice cream shake?

While you will encourage me to date, fully aware and accepting of the fact that I deserve better than you, you are to be so brokenhearted and irreparably damaged that the thought of dating repulses you. If for some reason you do find yourself in another relationship, you must admit internally that this relationship is simply your pathetic attempt to fill the void left by my absence. Your new “girlfriend” (if we can even call her that) is not allowed to accompany you to any of the places we occupied during our tenure. If you (alone) absolutely must enter these establishments, your visits will be ruined by bittersweet memories of a love lost.

And finally, out of respect, there will be no tolerance for jamming out to Ridin’ Solo.

Hold on, I’m sorry… Jesus Christ, I went a little crazy there. Give me just one second to reenter reality… Aaaaaand, I’m back.

Anyway, real ex etiquette is much more reasonable than anything mentioned above. More importantly, the following guidelines are remarkably beneficial to everyone involved. So pay attention!

Respect your ex-girlfriend/boyfriend’s wishes if they say they can’t be friends, even if your relationship ended very amicably. If you removed your head from your ass for long enough, you wouldn’t feel offended by this at all; you would understand that it’s because their feelings for you are too meddled in romance/love, preventing them from truly being able to remain only friends. You should be flattered that you have such an effect on them. Take a moment to consider what your life would be like if you remained friends with your ex anyway. Would you really be comfortable talking to her about the new guy she’s dating? The new guy who has four inches on you and a full head of hair? Fuck that noise.

Next, if your relationship ended because you were a Grade A Asshole, a douchebag of the highest caliber, a lying, cheating, manipulative whore, or some other pathetic combination of similar qualities, cut your losses and let your ex move on. They deserve Medals of Honor for their patience and goodwill towards scumbags, and you should take responsibility for the hurt and pain you’ve caused them by simply leaving them alone. Do not send a random text three months later and selfishly put your name in their face when they’ve been trying to get over you. Do not show up at their workplace with flowers and make a faux-grand gesture to reel them back in when you know damn well you wouldn’t be able to treat them with the respect they deserve.

Finally, when two people split and go their separate ways, unfortunately the intimate knowledge of one another that was acquired over countless hours, days, or years does not simply vanish into thin air. I doubt you were going to start up a “Gerard’d third testicle” blog or anything, but you should also have enough tact not to blab about anything that someone told you under the premise of trust and security. That would be a shitty thing to do, and now that you’ve read all about ex etiquette, I have faith that you’re not ever going to be a shitty ex. Props to you.

Favor Etiquette

How a decent human being asks for a favor:

“Hey so and so, I’m going to be out of town for a week and I was hoping you could watch my dog.  I’d really appreciate it.”

Simple, sweet, and to the point.  It really doesn’t take a genius.  And maybe sweeten the deal with a little thank you booze afterward.

How assholes ask for a favor:

1) They act like they’re doing you a favor: “Hey, I know you think my dog is adorable, so I’m going to let you watch her for a whole week while I’m gone.”

Gee, thanks.  I really appreciate your kindness.  I’m thrilled to get into my boiling hot car, force my fingers around my blistering steering wheel, and drive twenty minutes to your place to feed your dog while you lounge on a beach in Tijuana. You’ve really made my day!

These are the same people who will also say: “You can watch Fido for an entire week if you want!”

If I want?  If I wanted to watch a cute little Fido, I’d have a cute little Fido.

I’m pretty sure these people don’t understand the concept of graciousness.  Look, when a person says “Sure, I’d love to watch Fido, I miss that cute little bugger”….they’re being polite.  They’re trying to ease the guilt that you may have for putting them out of their way.  What they’re not trying to do is convince you to go on a vacation just so they can have the pleasure of feeding your dog.

2) They trick you by making it seem like they are inviting you to something fun: “Hey, what are you doing in a couple weeks?  Are you free?”  And when you say yes, thinking that maybe you’re finally going to go on that awesome camping trip you’ve been talking about for months, they reply “Ok great, then you can watch my dog”  Asshole.

3) They talk as if their dog will shrivel up and die if you’re not there to watch it. “Well I guess I can just leave a huge pile of food for her, she’ll probably be fine.  I’m sure she won’t starve to death.” That’s a shame, really, but don’t buy a dog if you can’t make provisions for said dog when you’re out of town.

4) They ask you to feed their dog, and after you agree, add a list of other chores to do.

No I will not shovel your driveway, take in your mail, water your plants, feed your fish, clean your dog’s anal glands, or change your sheets.  If you need those things done, ask up front and don’t try to slide them in after I’ve already agreed to help you out.

The obnoxiousness of this is multiplied by about ten when the chores are left on a list taped next to the dog bowl.  You’re banking on the assumption that I’m not going to let your little goldfish starve to death, you fucker.  And you’re right, but that doesn’t make you any less of an asshole.

 

Marijuana Etiquette

Your friend generously offers his bag of pot in order to roll a joint for all of your friends to enjoy while hanging out around the fire pit discussing existential quandaries. Puff puff pass. Puff puff pass. Your turn. You take in a deep drag and watch the paper glow red and slightly disintegrate into ash, and immediately exhale, without properly holding the smoke in your lungs to develop the desired high. You, my friend, are a dick. Don’t waste your friend’s precious commodity; that slice was the product of a five hour delivery shift at Dominos, and she was graciously sharing the wealth. Do it right, or deal with smite.

In my pot smoking days, nothing drove me crazier than someone who wasted a hit, especially if I was the one packing the bowl. It seems that so many people do this unknowingly. Yeah, they are definitely still going to get high, but it would only take half of my marijuana to get them there if they paid attention the first time they were offered a toke in high school.

Okay, okay, I’m exaggerating a little bit. Those who don’t know how to smoke aren’t the worst marijuana etiquette offenders. Those who smoke all too often, and understand all too well that weed is expensive, and yet never contribute from their own stash- they hold the title as worst offender. You might think that being selfish and greedy are two characteristics that seem inherently anti-pothead, but trust me you’ve seen it, I’ve seen it, we’ve all seen it!

You know who else is mildly annoying? That guy that takes a hit and holds onto the bowl as he begins a long story with about ten tangents. You don’t want to be rude and cut him off, but every single time you think the story is winding down and you can remind him to pass it along, he digresses from tangent number five and gets back to his original point. Forty-five minutes later you fully understand the complicated history of the Illuminati, but you’ve kind of lost your buzz. Don’t be that guy.

TL;DR: Make the most of your hit, don’t be a mooch, and try not to get so high that you forget to pass.

Sidewalk Etiquette

One day Anna Belle and I were walking with a group of friends (yes we have other friends, despite our bitter hatred for the stupidity of mankind), and in the midst of a long ago forgotten conversation she said to me, as an aside and quite matter-of-factly, “You just stepped in throw up.”  And casually continued on with the conversation as though I had not just stepped into a pile of another human’s stomach acid and nachos.  In defense of why she hadn’t bodily throw herself at me in a slow motion reenactment of one of those dramatic moments when someone is about to step on a bomb, which I would have appreciated so much more than having to wipe chunks off the bottom of my shoes with a stick, she hadn’t notice the pukage until the very instant I stepped in it.  As is life I suppose.

Now when I walk down the street, I can’t enjoy the foliage or smile at fellow people as they walk by – oh no, I have to keep my eyes fastened on the sidewalk in front of me, because there is a constant barrage of vomit, dog shit, and little piles of mucus.*  Gross.

If you’re guilty of the latter two, then you are seriously just a disgusting, disgusting asshole.  You may be past saving – but in case you have any shred of humanity left, let me try.  If your dog takes a shit, pick it up.  Good God, how hard can it be?  Don’t get a fucking dog unless you are prepared to give his/her turd a little squeeze through a plastic bag.  And there may not be a sound on this good earth more repulsive than someone collecting every shred of mucus in their nasal cavity with the intention of hocking a mouthful onto the sidewalk in front of me.  And guess what?  With a good solid wind that shit will and does spray people.  I don’t even have words, other than just to say: don’t.  It is so fucking gross.

On the other hand, look, I don’t want to see the contents of your stomach (let alone step in it), but etiquette for puking on a sidewalk is tough, because nobody is ever like “Hey man, let’s go out tonight and have us a good old fashion puke on the street.”  It’s really a moment of extreme duress, and honestly, if it comes down to you taking up the one accessible bathroom in the bar to empty the contents of your over-inebriated stomach, or you going into a dark alley way to puke into corner, well, I guess my bladder would have to vote alley.  But could you at least try to find the least noticeable spot possible?  Here’s a little guidance: Puking into a bush, check (note-not UNTO a bush, for the love of God, I’d rather not see a bush-shaped statue, temporary as it may be, of your breakfast).  Puking into an alley, check.  Puking over a wall, it depends on what (or who) is on the other side.  Have a little sense.  Puking in the middle of the sidewalk, not a mother-fucking check.  Not a mother-fucking check AT ALL.  It’s just not ok that I have to map out my journey somewhere based on avoiding seeing your half-digested who-the-hell-knows-what that sticks around until the next rainfall.  I’m also fairly convinced that eating highlighters has become a new trend, because there is some radioactive puke on the street that can be seen from outer space – astronauts can spot the Great Wall of China and the bright green puke, festooned with a myriad of colorful chunks, down the street from my apartment.  In that case, the best solution I ever heard was from another friend, who wanted to artistically arrange baby ninja turtle figurines crawling out of the vomit for others to enjoy.  Cheers to that.

*Hearing this delightful description, you may be wonder where the hell I live.  I guess that’s what I get for living within a ten foot radius of 30 bars and a park.  And apparently enough assholes to festoon a sidewalk with an array of treasures.  And don’t even get me started on public urination, I’ll save that goody for another day.

Subway Etiquette

I have been standing here waiting for the T for nine fucking minutes, and if you live amongst us subway commuters, you know that nine minutes in the underground world is nothing short of a goddamn eternity. But you, you strutted in here no more than ten seconds ago, and you have the audacity to walk directly in front of me and try to board the approaching train toward Oak Grove before me? Fine. We’ll call it luck. We all know it’s a gamble; you never know where the doors will be when the train finally stops. But don’t you dare approach that empty felt-covered seat and try to squeeze your ass between two unfortunate souls when there is a woman limping with a cane behind you. I’m sure you’re well aware of the little blue and white signs placed over certain “priority” seats on the subway which gently remind you to offer “this seat” to the elderly or disabled. News flash: In a decent society, this does not need to apply only to those particular seats. Believe it or not, you can offer the man dragging around an oxygen tank “that seat” as well. In fact, I encourage it.

If there isn’t a place for you to sit, move into the aisles; don’t just stand there in front of the door so nobody else can fit inside. For some reason it doesn’t bother you that there is concrete and earth literally hanging above your head, but suddenly you’re too claustrophobic to walk deep into the train? Everyone that enters the door behind you is forced to awkwardly cuddle one another while they longingly gaze past your body to your other side where there is space for at least ten other people. MOVE IN. Thanks to you, the people in front of me are crowded by the door and I’m still not even off the platform. For the love of god, I have been waiting so long that in the outside world my unborn children may have already left for college, so let me onto that fucking train!

…OK, I made it. I’m in. I’m on the train and the doors have managed to close behind me. The guy I’m pressed up against has officially gotten to second base even though he’s never even taken me out to dinner. He’s kind of cute though, and to kill time I begin daydreaming about what our future holds, until… BAM!

Ugh, you again. Just because you can’t feel your backpack banging into me, doesn’t mean it’s not happening. Treat your gigantic bag, which I can only assume contains five law school textbooks, a laptop, or maybe even a desktop computer, as an extension of your own body. Take responsibility for the fact that it’s there. Prior to abruptly swinging your body around, remember that you have something protruding from your back that is heavy enough to knock out a child, or a short girl like myself. Did it ever occur to you to take it off your body and place it on the floor where it can’t injure anybody? Use your brain; I’m guessing you have one considering the library you’re carrying around on your back.

I wonder why my new boyfriend isn’t saying anything to you in my defense. I guess he doesn’t want to take his headphones out and pay attention to the world around him. HELLO, are you in this train or are you just a hologram? Is your real body inside the iPhone you’re staring at?  He thinks he can just feel me up and then not stand up for me? I guess he never cared about me. Suddenly I’m choking on his Abercrombie for Men, and I can smell the Taco Bell he had for lunch on his breath. Babe, did you just cough in my motherfucking face without covering your mouth? I’m going to vomit.

Finally, Downtown Crossing.  I made it. We made it.

I was last on the train; you would think I’d be the first one off. Nope. You, Ms. Important with all of your books, you’re clearly in a big ass rush. You mindlessly swing your body and your +1 backpack around like you’re the only person for miles, and you push past me and a few others and shove through the new crowd of people waiting to take our places on the train. You really are the ultimate asshole.

To be continued…

Blog Comment Etiquette

If I’m ever sitting around thinking, “Man I’d really like to raise my blood pressure a few notches,” the first thing I do is go read comments on a forum.  Any forum – blogs, news stories, it doesn’t seem to matter.  Because forums are where assholes go to congregate.  Not just ironic assholes, but the real dregs of the asshole community—the racists, homophobes, sexists, and morons (I realize the last one is somewhat redundant).  There’s something about the anonymity of internet forums that allows people to express the ugliest pieces of their thoughts and feelings.

So I’ve drawn up a few guidelines for not being an asshole on internet forums, and more specifically, our forum:

First—under absolutely no circumstance—can you disagree with us.  Kidding.  Sort of.  But no really, I am kidding, although I will secretly despise you….but respect your right to respectfully disagree with me.

Key there is the word “respectfully.”  Although we do not fail to note the irony of us talking about how to not be an asshole in an assholey manner (did you follow that?), most of it is in good fun.  The rest is in exasperation for how people can be so stupid, but who here hasn’t been stupid?  Not us, we are certainly stupid all the time.  So take this advice, and respond in kind, in good humor.

Or if you are like fuck that, and decide to be a dickhead anyway, at least be funny about it, I don’t mind a good hearty chuckle at my expense (or even better, at Anna Belle’s expense).

Second—assholeness expressed comes from assholeness within.  Profound, I know.  In other words, if you are expressing racist, sexist, homophobic, or moronic viewpoints, it is because you are in fact, a racist, sexist, homophobic, and moronic person.  You should really fix that.  Stop being an ignorant douche and take a few sociology classes.  Read a book, move outside of your privileged little bubble and actually come to grips with the reality of the social world.  Until the day comes, keep your ugly little thoughts to yourself, you’re polluting the world with your idiocy.

Third—DON’T WRITE IN ALL CAPS.  HOW FUCKING ANNOYING IS THIS.  LET ME TELL YOU—IT’S REALLY FUCKING ANNOYING.

Fourth—Learn how to spell.  U look stupid if u talk like this.  Nothing u say will be taken seriusly.

Fifth—Actually read whatever it is you are replying to.  Don’t “read” it with your preconceived notions firmly in place about what you are expecting to read.  Why waste our time or yours?  (And let’s be realistic, it’s more your time than ours, once this shit is launched into cyberspace).

Sixth—Don’t advertise in our freaking comment forum.  Who has EVER seen an advertisement in a forum and thought “my oh my, what a splendid product, I shall go out in buy this?”  NOBODY.  That’s who.  It’s about as effective as a man cat-calling a woman, “hey honey, you lookin’ fine today” and trying to get her number.  It never happens.  All it does is make you a world class asshole.

Seventh—Don’t go into a rant about politics that has nothing to do with anything.  If you’re reading a damn post about puking in the street, don’t find some convoluted way to blame the president for the degeneracy of mankind.  You, my friend, are dumb, and there is no one to blame but your own stupid self.  And I’m encompassing all parties and political beliefs when I say this—quite frankly, assholes will be assholes, whether they are liberal or conservative.