Remember this post I wrote about pinterest and the numerous panties that are in a bunch due to a) the affiliate links and b) the ability to pin anything without linking to the original source. (This is not because Pinterest doesn’t care about finding the original source, I don’t know if it does or not, but the onus for linking to the original source is up the user not Pinterest).

Well, everyone, get our your irons, ’cause panties are still a bunching. Here is the latest thing;

Dear Pinterest, Boo-hoo

Yes, now people are threatening to leave. I am about to lose my mind.

Hey special snowflake, Upset that users aren’t linking to the original source? Ohhh, boo-hoo. By the way, welcome to the internet. I hope you go, your bullshit boards are ususally filled with;

• shoes that no one can afford, and you don’t even wear
• homes you can’t afford, with remodeling/ decorating jobs that you can’t afford and/or will never do
• clothes you can’t fit into
• clothes from the runway (because pret-a-porter is not a concept you know about)
• TV shows you love (Really could have done without know how much you love Jersey Shore)
• Slut shaming quotes
• Thinspiration shit so you and everyone else that sees that can feel worse about your body

So you don’t like Pinterest’s terms? Guess you’re leaving, then. Bye.

And take this stupid pin with you

The problem with this? Look at it, really think about trying it.

Here is what will really happen

• Your toaster will turn off because it is on the side
• If it doesn’t, one side will burn
• It will smoke and possibly start a fire
• Melt the plastic casing on your toaster.

Don’t Pin Stupid.

Cookie. Yes, this is a post about a cat. A cat I went head to head with this morning. I have no shame in admitting that the cat won.

Here is how it went down.

Cookie had a vet appointment this morning. In fact, it is the last of the vet appointments for the WHOLE DAMN YEAR. She is also the only cat that goes outside. This morning she darts outside while I am feeding the dog. I go to get her, she dumps off the deck onto the fence – out of reach.

GODDAMMIT

Trace and I lure her back inside.

I WIN, BITCH!

Oh wait, today is trash day. I convince my son to take out the trash.

I think we all see what is coming. That cat laid in wait for my son to leave out the front door, and out she went. Never to be seen again. Well, never to be seen again before I left at 7:50.

I had to reschedule.

Cookie- 1, Amy- 0.

Or Why We Suck at Driving

I have been driven in Guatemala,

{We are very near this cliff edge, bus driver.}

{We have been stopped by the police. Oh, he gave them some money, they are going away now.}

I have been driven and drove myself in England;

{I learned to drive a stick with the right hand, I can’t do this with my left hand!}

{Turning right, OH MY GOD I AM THE WRONG LANE!!}

{Gas is how much?!}

I have driven in Germany;

{You always stay in the right hand land unless you are passing.}

{If you are not the the right hand land and a fast car comes upon your bumper, the correct response is not flash the finger but to turn your signal on and move to the right so he can pass.}

{Yes, there are speed limits on the AutoBahn (120k, usually).}

{To show his displeasure at this driving, the car ahead of you will turn on his windshield cleaner so it sprays all over your car. Yes, very passive aggressive.}

{You always, always use your turn signal.}

{Gas is how much?!}

I have driven in Austria;

{Oh look the Alps. OH MY GOD THIS HIGHWAY IS HANGING OFF THIS MOUNTAIN, WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE.}

{Very steep incline, those runoffs are in case your brakes fail. Greeeeaaaatttt.}

{How am I supposed to park my Camary in that tiny little spot??!!}

{Gas is how much?!}

I have driven in Italy;

{Did that car just drive in the ditch to pass me?!}

{Did that car just drive in the middle of the road, with oncoming traffic, to pass me?!?!}

{I need gas, is the gas station open? No? Why not, it’s three in the afternoon?! When will it be open? Why are you shrugging?!}

{Who is supposed to go next at this intersection? WHY ARE YOU SHRUGGING AGAIN?!}

{Gas is how much?!}

But, it is here in the United States, that I really understand the concept of road rage -

{I just pulled in front of a semi truck, why he is yelling and using his jack brakes?}

{I can do 30 in the fast lane if I want.}

{Pfft, snow, who cares? OH MY GOD, WHY IS MY CAR SLIDING AROUND?}

{Turn signals? What are those? I have turn signals. They are top-secret stealth turn signals. You cannot see them. So there.}

{I MUST PASS YOU TO PROVE I HAVE A BIG DICK!}

{I must drive a big car because I need to prove I am affluent. Then I will complain about gas prices.}

{Gas is too high. Do not give me a lecture on global economics and fossil fuel scarcity, if I have to pay more than a dollar for gas, it is clearly a Republican/ Democrats fault.}

I’m getting a Vespa y’all. It has to be safer than driving around here.

I am a pretty experienced internet user. It takes a lot to get me to shake my head and express disgust. I have seen all the shock sites, know all the troll keywords, seen the gore – you can’t shock me. But, Pinterest did it. Well, not Pinterest exactly, but Pinterest users.

Here is the two second low-down. Most stuff on pinterest is put there through links. You add a ‘pin’ to a board, usually through a link you have found. Now, here is how Pinterest makes money. They take the links, run them through a program and turn them into affilate links. Which means they make money every time you click. It’s ingenious and for the most part, unobtrustive advertising. [Here is a great post from blogworld about it].

In addition, there are TON of pins that are not linked to their original sources. Most people don’t care, but, there is always someone to cry about everything.

AND SOMEONE HAS GOTTEN A BIG UP THEIR ASS ABOUT IT.

Here is internet rule #3 – If you don’t want it stolen, copied, modified, changed then DON’T PUT IT ON THE INTERNET.

And for the love of all that is holy, stop pinning shit like this. No one cares.

Pinterest Rant

I have probably told you this before, so my apologies if I repeat myself, but I love to throw stuff away. I am the least attached to my stuff person there is, I think. Even my children are not safe from this purging. You know all those parents that save everything from their kid’s childhoods. Not me. I saved their christening outfits and their layette. That’s about it.

When stuff goes missing, my kids will say, “Mom! Did you throw my [insert meaningless object here] away?” I will feign shock – SHOCK, I TELL YOU – at being accused of such heinous crime. However, chances are…yeah, I threw it away.

I am in the middle of a purge. Three large garbage bags of clothes have been donated, Barbies and Polly Pockets given away, linens tossed, spices chucked – all gone. And if I had a good strong man for about three hours, let me tell you, a LOT more would be gone.

This process also applies to people. Some times, for no reason at all really, I put a lot of effort into a relationship that has negligible returns. I am not one of those people that needs other people around to feel better about my life or myself. The opposite is true. People are a lot of fucking work. You have to worry if they understand what you are trying to say, if you pissed them off, if they are reliable, and are they sincere. Man, it is never ending. At some point, I just give up. Or maybe they give up on me. Either way, they fade away.

I am OK with this.

I feel no sense of duty or politeness to carry on a relationship that is built on a shaky foundation. It isn’t as if I suddenly turn on them, no, I just….stop trying.

The ones that stay are true, loyal, funny, talented and generous. I appreciate them all the more.

Sometimes you just have to say good-bye, I wish you well. You won’t regret it.

(or why I hate vlogging)

Video blogging (or vlogging as it has become known) is supposed to be the next big thing in blogging. I am here to beg you, on my knees, to stop. Please just stop.

Writing and spoken word are two incredibly different animals, and if there are very few people who can write well, there a damn site fewer who can do spoken word well.

This is what all the vlogs I have seen consist of;

Blogger in front of low quality camera (phone or webcam) speaking out a blog post that would have normally been written. Between the ‘ums’ and ‘sos’ is a piece, so poorly executed that most of the women doing it would not have even hit the publish button on that post, were it written. They have no script, no quality video, no reason to sit in front of a camera and talk except that it takes the place of actually having to write.

They aren’t amusing, they aren’t little peeks inside your life, their are cringe-worthy fests of crap. You are bloggers, writers – not a television personality. It isn’t as great as you think it is.

There are some great ways to do vlogs,; write a script, practice, dress-up, use camera appropriate make-up, do more than one take, edit the video, etc. etc. But no one is doing that, and, in the end, you all look lazy.

Thinking about doing a vlog? Please, in the name of all that is holy, write your words.

Curry. I lovez it. I just do. And I am blessed with children that love to try different things, so when I recommend sushi or Indian for dinner, they readily agree. We also love Wegman’s, so on nights I don’t want to cook, we go get dinner from Wegman’s. (If you don’t know what Wegman’s is, it is a grocery store. In fact, it is the best grocery store ever, and their food is delicious. Don’t hate.)

Imagine my delight when I found out Wegman’s had Indian food. I nearly wept with joy. I think I ate curry at least once week until…well, I am still doing it.

One day I go there, trot up to the Indian food section and what do they have?

Beef Curry.

Beef. Really, y’all?

Let’s just go ahead and ruin Indian food, insult their culture and religion, and seem ignorant at the same time.

Indians do not eat beef, cows are sacred to them. Therefore, you do not make Beef Curry,

End of story. No ‘but I like beef’ or ‘it’s not my culutre’ or ‘I once had an Indian friend and she didn’t mind’.

Just. NO.