Twitter: Lost in translation

Twitter etiquette for the beginner... and the twat waffle. I don't often do Top Tens, but due to a growing discord that I've heard through the Twittersphere, I thought it was about time I cranked up my initiative and wrote this out. For those that don't know me very well, I am a professional online marketer and creative director for almost ten years now (ouch, I feel old), even though I don't often talk shop on this site. And yes, this ambitious undertaking hurt my A.D.D. a little, and yes, I shall be napping once it's done.

10. No blind links. What is that link? Where will it take me? What the hell are you trying to get me to do? This is how I feel EVERY time I see a link without a headline, hashtag (like #photo or #porn) or something, anything that will tell me what this link is for. That's what headlines are for - lead the reader in - make us want to click and read/see more.

9. RT effectively. Odds are you and your followers follow quite a few of the same people. The best way to do a "real" RT (when you retweet directly using the icon that looks like a recycle symbol) is to first "favorite" it and then retweet it in an hour or later. This way, your followers won't have 2, 3, 4 of the exact same tweet scrolling through their feed at the same time - how annoying!

8. Over Retweeting - Whoa, there! I know it's a nice pat on the back when someone retweets you, and there are sites like FavStar.fm that make a fortune getting people to pay (yes, people actually PAY) for tracking your retweets, favorite'd stars and also allow to award others with virtual trophies for their clever quips, insults and creative double entendres for the use of the work 'fuck'. But when I open my timeline and there are 15 retweets in a row from all the same person, the first thing I do? I won't unfollow, but I will go to their profile and select "turn off retweets". It's a lovely, relatively new function - I use it a lot.

7. Check your motherfucking links. I have unfollowed people because of them consistently posting broken or invalid links - true story. Especially if you are a blogger, marketer or someone that should know how these things work, please test them first. If you tweet a link that doesn't work, it defeats the purpose of drawing people to your site, and therefore pisses me off for clicking. Do it once? Shame on you. Do it twice? Shame on me for clicking again. It will be the last time, I promise. (This morning was a prime example of that. Gaahhh.)

6. Don't Auto DM like it's 2006. That is all. Enough said.

5. Twitter is a SOCIAL media - not a soap box. To quote my very close, personal acquaintance* Scott Stratten, "Twitter is a conversation... I know, I know “TWITTER HAS NO RULES” and flippity-flo, but the point is if you believe that business is built on relationships, you have to make building them your business."¹ I will be honest here and say that if you follow me and I check out your timeline and you have interacted with zero people, I likely won't follow you back. You're obviously too self-important to have room for me in your Twitter life. And that also holds true with celebs - if they have over 3 million followers but follow zero, they are simply a douchebag.

4. Manual RT's have a time and place. I know Scott will disagree with me here because manual retweeting means it breaks the contextual history of a tweet, blardy blar blar, but in my opinion, sometimes they have a place.

Exhibit A:

By doing this, I not only replied to his tweet, but I also included his tweet to MY followers that might not necessarily follow him, so they see both the statement and the comeback. Again, it's not to be used all the time, but there are situations when it serves a purpose.

3. Hashtag smashtag. The primary purpose for a hashtag is to increase search results for particular words such as #savethechildren or #blogher12 etc, etc and can get your tweet seen by more people than just your followers - and even can help you gain new followers. Hashtags are also used as a joke or punchline, such as #gofuckyourself which, when used right, can be funny. Tweets such as "#join #theparty #forfunandgames" are simply obnoxious and serve little purpose other than telling me you have no idea what hashtags are for.

2. I ain't no follow back girl. I believe the notion of "Teamfollowback" is ridiculous. We all follow people (or companies) for different reasons - that is the beauty of Twitter. There should be ZERO push to follow people when I don't feel their tweets are of personal interest or relevance to me. Guilting (or begging) for follow-backs is like asking for everyone you like to like everything you do. Well, life doesn't work that way! You may follow me because you like my vagina jokes, but if your profile says you're into country music and Jesus, guess what? I respect that about you, but I don't want to read your tweets. Thanks for wanting to listen to my jokes and if you talk to me, I will likely respond but that's where our relationship ends... AND THAT'S OK.

1. Unfollowing: It happens. Sometimes people out-grow others or perhaps they become weary of others' dirty jokes and angst AND THAT'S OK TOO. It's like being at a party and you are allowed to come and go as you please. As someone walks out the door (unfollows) don't stop the party and yell to everyone, "Hey look who just unfollowed me!" That's not cool; not even a little bit. Don't ever, ever do that. I consider that a form of cyber bullying and I have no place or tolerance for dumb, juvenile bullshit like that. As much as Twitter is a social media tool to connect with people, it is equally a highly personalized experience and no two people's timelines are completely identical. Follow, don't follow, unfollow who you want and if there's any uncomfortable pressure to do anything you don't want to do, then the primary function of Twitter is lost. Block the assholes!

We already escaped high school once; there's no need to repeat that train wreck again, is there?

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* Rowan Atkinson Live: The Good Loser (watch - it's funny shit)

1. Scott Stratten, UnMarketing: "50,000 TWEETS AND ALL I GOT WAS EVERYTHING", June 7, 2010.

And the years go by.

I haven't participated in on of Mama Kat's World Famous Writing Prompts in a while now, but that's not to say I don't read them all the time. Something about this one caught my eye: "Dig out your high school yearbook and share a message a friend wrote that stands out to you." 

Uuuhhff.

Call me masochistic but I thought it would be interesting to dust off the old book and take a quick nostalgic trip down that tumultuous high school lane, but it turned out to be much more than that. It was full of love. Or rather, memories of love once felt by a special person in my past, and for a brief moment in my life, I reciprocated his love. I had forgotten that he wrote this - it's been so long. But even now, after all these years, I feel warmth, affection and love when I read it... and that's a wonderful thing.

Dear Steph, Well here I am writing and where shall I start, because is has been such a fun time knowing you. We started out not knowing each other's names and we ended up having such a good time - for example that fantastic Halloween to that exceptional Christmas, with many things said, which I might add were meant then and now nothing. Who knows, in another time and place there might be two people just like us that end up together. As the time has gone we have both changed - it could only be expected. With everything said and done, I've had a great time and I wouldn't change my time knowing you for anything. In that time I have changed for the better and because of you, I view things in a different light. It is not easy remembering all the good times we had together and writing about them because they make me feel so happy but equally sad. And you know why because all the things we love come to an end eventually, which is the hardest thing to face but it will slowly get easier in time, but never forgotten. One other thing is that you frustrate me at fuckING times and don't forget to drag out the "ING" when you say it. You drive my insane, woman! But all joking aside, no matter what we do, or how far away we travel, or how old we get, my memories of you shall always be with me. I could have written forever. All my love, L

When is young too young?

"I want us to have sex."

"Nope, sorry. I don't want to have sex until I'm older, and when I'm in love."

"That's lame. Sex is fun."

"That's nice. I'll find out when I'm older. You aren't going to change my mind."

"Fine. How about in your ass?"

I laid there naked, and as he groped my right breast I paused to think about it.
"Mmmmm. OK, I guess we could give that a try."

The look on his face was nothing short of pure excitement. His beautiful crystal blue eyes that initially attracted me to him were widened with anticipation. He grabbed my ass and hoisted me up onto all fours to assume "the position". I didn't really do much to help him out - not that I knew what the fuck to do anyway; I just thought he would know.

He pretended to be so experienced, even though I was fairly intuitive and saw right through his bullshit. For some reason or another, I found his phony act of "studliness" oddly endearing... however briefly.

He pushed his dick between my butt cheeks and just started pounding away - like a drunken fool trying to get their key into the hole by ramming it in the general area of the key hole.

Yes, that.

And let me just say that he never got in the door.

I just stayed there on all fours getting pounded from behind, but aside from the force of his body hitting mine, there was nothing. And I knew it. It was quite obvious to me, but apparently not to him.

After he had, umm, finished? He collapsed on to his bed beside me and with an exhausted smile, he rubbed his hand on my stomach and said, "You're officially my twentieth lay. Congratulations, sexy!"

Charming.

And so not true. It took everything in me not to call him on that clusterfuck, but by that time, I had ZERO interest in having him trying again. I just let him have his moment.

I was twelve.

And he was thirteen.

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And this happens more than parents want to know or are willing to admit, but it's out there. It's going on right now, and even though parents find it uncomfortable taking about sex with their adolescents, they need to. It's a part of life and growing up and learning and exploring.

I thought it was time I wrote this post as a response to the latest controversies of what constitutes going "too far" with sexual education for children at the grade 7-8 level (12-13 years old). I cannot believe this is STILL going on. The legislation has been in place since 1988, people! Get the fuck over it and talk to your children about sex.

This is my story, and this event took place 22 years ago.

A lot has changed in 22 years but two things will always remain the same: Kids are curious and dumb - and it's a terrible combination.

Please educate them.

It's like WOW!

As mentioned a while back, I was approached to do a review on a sex toy and seriously... HOW COULD I REFUSE THAT?! So, of course, I graciously accepted and I chose to get the WOW dual g-spot & clitoral massager by Ladygasm.com. Hubba, hubba!

The design was what first attracted me to this model. If it's one thing that turns me on, it's ergonomics. Mmmm, ergonomics. When I first opened my precious package of pending pleasure, I was impressed with how soft the silicone was, like SUPER soft. It's also nice and small - please enjoy my plus-sized hand modeling...

It is a very cool looking design, even if I do know exactly where it was taken from...

But I won't tell. Shhhh. 

I cannot resist mentioning some of the dumbass reviews that I read before I chose this one. One in particular ADMITS to having inserted it the wrong way and found it "uncomfortable and too big". Ummm, either this girl was a virgin that's never even been fingered properly or... (insert another excuse; I'm at a loss), because, well.. even the WRONG end ain't that big. Please view exhibit C on the left:

Also, why the frickity fuck would someone think to shove the part that has the controls up their cooch is extremely entertaining to me. 

Aaaaanyhow, the photo on the right shows a close-up side view to illustrate the cool little ridges that stimulate the g-spot and the pink pleasure horn¹. Ooooh! Honk, honk.  

It needs to be clarified that this is a vibrator, not a dildo. Perhaps that might be stating the obvious to most of you, but I truly think there are many that assume they are synonymous with each other and they are not - or at least, not always - and not in this case.

This is a vibrator or better yet, a simulator. It's not for ramming in and out of your glory hole like a fiend - that's what my other toy is for. Ahem. This WOW has 7 vibration modes and after some fun playing around, I've decided my favorite setting is Buz-Buz-Buzzzzzz. Buz-Buz-Buzzzzz (and so on and so forth). The vibration intensity is impressive and can definitely be felt both internally and externally. 

I have two wise insights that I would like to convey.

1. To the R&D department, although a superior product, I still would have liked the internal end to have a bit more backbone in it - like a pliable spine. It's almost too soft... like inserting a semi-flaccid mini penis. Once it is inside, it's perfectly fine, but that initial part was a little off putting.

2. To my lady people, this is a great little vibrator with some serious power. Also? Said power comes from a plug-in charger - NO BATTERIES, EVER. Win!

My professional bullshit suggestion is that this toy would be best used during foreplay or perhaps after a good solid pounding (whether it be with another or alone), then insert this little fire cracker and just sit back and watch the waves come crashing in - pun totally intended.

FOUR STARS.

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This is a sponsored post and I don't care who knows it, because... hello? FREE VIBRATOR.

USE CODE: estrogen for 20% OFF!

1. You better fucking believe that I submitted that to the Urban Dictionary. 
I need to expand my verbal portfolio over there - its current state is severely lacking.

That Damned Cervixen

In conversations with mothers, both close friends and new acquaintances alike, I have used my favourite "tattoo vs motherhood" analogy in conversations many, many times, but it's occurred to me that I've never written it down. It goes a little something like this:

Motherhood is like getting a tattoo because while you're getting the tattoo, you're all like, "Jesus, fuck! This is a lot of pain. Who the hell said THIS would be a good idea? I wish they were here so I could punch them in the face right now!" Then, you look in the mirror after it's done and are so happy with the results that you've forgotten that last 3 hours of horrifically annoying pain. And that's only moments later! Give it a few years and the yearning comes back. When, oh when, can I get another tattoo? People with no tats would ask, "Doesn't it hurt?" Yes, but you have forgotten just how MUCH it hurts because you see your tattoos through rosy marijuana fogged glasses from those days when you were young, carefree and your skin was tight. Then the day comes when you yet again get to lie down on a table and receive another tattoo. Although excited, once that first needle breaks the surface of your skin, you are quickly reminded of the horror. But it's too late now - second one's on its way as you clench your teeth and curse the person that encouraged you to get this one. And the cycle continues...

There you have it.

And last week, my oldest friend (who's survived both grade school, high school AND living with me in Australia), had to be induced to get her little Number Two pushed outta her. Sorry, that sounds like having a big poop, but let's all be grown-ups here, shall we? Ahem.

She had an emergency C-section with her first 3 years ago and was worried she would have to have another one. I was on the fence with this concept since I've heard so many horror stories about dead vaginas and that although a C-section REALLY MOTHERFUCKING HURTS, it was only for about 2 weeks and at least my lady bits were still in tight working order not that anyone cared, but still. Since I had my two at the same time, I haven't really ever given it much thought until now, but I think I would prefer to re-fuck-up my stomach rather than ruin a second part of my body - especially one that I hold in such high esteem.

(Random side note: I wish I had never seen The Spa of Embarrassing Illnesses)

So, I would get texts every few hours about her pain-in-the-vagina cervix dilating too slow and that she was getting more and more Oxytocin pumped into her. All of this so that she can rip open a new hole, instead of re-open the old one she already has. I mean, in a perfect world, yes, yes... we'd all have easy natural child births where we would go take a squat in the backyard and after birthin' a baby, we'd stay out there to get some weeding done with the newborn effortlessly latching on to our teet.

And thus, it's not just the actual second (or third, or...) child that is like getting a tattoo, but it's the actual birth, or more specifically - even though I can make a fairly valid analogy with the first 3 years as well.

How's your cervix? 
Not cooperating. It's only at 4 cms.
Fucking cervix. She's a bitch... no, she's a vixen. A Cervixen, to be exact!
Stop, you'll make me poop.
You'll poop anyway - right on the table. Gross.
STOP IT.
You love me.

And that's how I came up with the name of my imaginary rock band - if I knew how to sing or play an instrument other than the rice filled Alpha-Getti can. Farrah, Jen, Amy, Rebecca and Jessie have also volunteered to join my imaginary reindeer games. We would be fucking awesome... in theory.

Will there be merchandising, you ask? You bet your sweet ass there is. 

Want one? Check out my Estrogoodies. OR you leave a comment because 

I'll be giving one away! ROCK ON!

Oh yeah, and my friend has a healthy baby boy. Blardy, blar, blar...

Another vagina bites the dust.

__

({O})

Them's fightin' words, Jenny

Dear Jenny McCarthy, 

You have touched a nerve with me. If fact, you haven't just touched it - you have strung it out and plucked it like a bass guitar that just popped a string which then proceeded to poke me in the fucking eye. You told Howard Stern in this interview that your son still misses Jim Carrey and that you have tried numerous times to reach out to him. In addition to that statement, you added,

"...as a mother, you just hope when you have a relationship with someone, 

it has nothing to do with the child when you break up."¹

Here are the top five motherfucking issues I have with this situation.

1. That's really sad that your son misses Jim, but I really wished you had kept that shit private. Why? Because you're a celebrity, ya dumb fuck. You must have known that by saying that, it would cause a shit storm of negative press - mostly towards Jim. Telling the world that you have tried to reach out to him with no avail and making him look like a heartless douchebag is a sure fine way of improving your estranged relationship. Oh, and the final part about your son being in therapy because of the estrangement was really a nice cherry on top of that steaming pile of passive-aggressive dialogue.

2. I realize that there are two sides to this story and I will attempt to cover both sides, all of which still make you look like a cunt, but in any case... although Jim is not the child's biological father, he still was present during a very impressionable time in the boy's young life (which is certainly compacted by the child's Autism). It makes me really sad and angry that Jim wouldn't attempt to keep in touch with the boy, if for no other reason than because he "should" recognize that he was, in fact, a parental figure in his life for 5 years and that it's important to maintain some form of contact for the child's sake. And because you, Jenny, now made me disappointed in Jim, that makes you suck too.

If a psychologist perhaps suggested that a clean break would be better for all of you (which is also a possibility, we can only make assumptions at this point) than why are you even bringing this shit up? Kind of brings me back to my first point about keeping this a private matter, don't you think?

3. The quote (1) that I used in my intro actually made me want to kick you, Jenny, in the coccyx. Hard. If you actually think that break-ups with spouses (or partners or whathaveyou) doesn't affect the children involved, than you are dumber than I ever could have possibly imagined. Or, if you were somehow implying that your son was "THE REASON" that you and Jim broke up, here's a slow fucking clap for just subversively admitting that to the entire world. Mother of the Year for you.

4. From the wise words of Rod Tidwell, "You don't shoplift the pootie from a single mom!" But I want to revise that a bit by saying that you don't give away the pootie when your a single mom either - why? Because of the kids, especially if they happen to struggle with change!

My mother dated my step-father for 5 years and not once did he sleep over... until there was a rock on her finger. It wasn't a bargaining chip, it was because she needed to know he was committed to being a partner AND FATHER before he became a permanent presence in my life. I think that was pretty cool and responsible of my mother - and I'm sure it wasn't easy. In summary, everything you do (and who you do) affects your children. Be aware of that and accept the consequences when things don't work out - don't fucking moan about it years after the fact.

One Canadian comedian to another...

4b. How many ex-boyfriends will you expect to keep in contact with your son over the next few years? Not to mention his biological father. I would think after a while it might get confusing for the boy to keep track. I am in no way calling you a skank, but being the single mother of an Autistic son requires special considerations when introducing new men into yours and his life.

5. You are not a child that's been grounded by your parents; you're a grown woman that also happens to be very wealthy and with practically unlimited resources. If you really wanted your son to see Jim for the past TWO YEARS, you would have made it happen by now. Don't insult our intelligence and make us feel sorry for you when it's actions that always speak louder than words, my dear. You want your son to see Jim? Get on a fucking plane and ring the gawd damn doorbell.


Tumultuously yours,
Lady E


// End rant.


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I am over at In The Powder Room with a fun little quip about 
how stupid potty training is with twins... ya know... 
if you're into that kind of reading :) ENJOY!!


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1.  The Toronto Sun, Wednesday, June 06, 2012

Sperm cubes

And this just happened...

"Ya know, one of the reasons I get stressed out about sex is because I don't want more kids."

"Then get The Snip."

"Ugh. Maybe."

"Wow. You're actually coming around now? Seriously?"

".... ......... maybe."

"What if your second wife wants a baby?"

"We'll adopt."

"That won't be good enough. She'll neeeeeed your seeeeed."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Never."

"I'll go and freeze a couple batches before I get it done."

"That's expensive, you know."

"I'll use our freezer."

"HA. It doesn't work that way."

"Sure. We can store them in a separate tray beside the dog's gravy cubes."

"Like... sperm cubes?"

"Just don't get them mixed up."

"I honestly don't think the dog would notice."

"You're probably right... so, you don't want to get the procedure then?"

"Ummm... fuck no! That would seriously put a dent in my bi-racial baby plans with MY second husband."

-->> Here's about where joking in the reverse hypothetical situation never works and he starts to pout. <<--

"I won't pay child support."

"Of course not - it won't be your baby."

"I mean AT ALL. I'm going to disappear."

"That would be a neat trick. You'd have to shut down your Facebook account for that to happen."

"Done."

"You're such a fucking rebel. So hot, babe. Let's have sex!"

".... ........ .......... .................... no."