I’m a coffee fan. Big Time.

I typically have a large mug when I get up, an extra large Tim Hortons’ on the way to work and a mid-morning Tim’s. Some evenings I like to have lattes and cappuccinos.

But this isn’t about me, or my love for coffee, it’s about YOU and YOUR love of coffee.

Because I have a Tassimo T20 single-cup coffee machine for YOU.

The Tassimo machine is so simple to use that I’ve forsaken my traditional perk coffee for a much faster, and just as delicious, morning brew using their patented T disc technology.

Just pop the disc into the front of the machine for a store-quality brew in just minutes. For someone who habitually forgets to set the timer the night before, this has been a Godsend, people. Godsend.

The discs are bar-coded so the machine knows exactly what temperature, pressure and time is required for the perfect brew.

There’s no mess, no forgetting how many scoops you may have put in, and no leaving behind that remaining last lowly cup-full that sits in the pot as you rush out the door.

Genius, right?

In a matter of milliseconds, the machine is ready with the green light indicating you can brew. There’s nothing sweeter than that little green light at 5am, my friends.

And it’s not just coffee. Hot chocolate, lattes, cappuccinos, espresso – even my favourite Chi-Tea Lattes.

Myself, I prefer the plain ol’ coffee as I’m not big on the milk-like creamers which come with the packages. I’d prefer to be able to steam my own milk, but for making me a quick, tasty cup of coffee or tea, I can’t complain. From well-known brands, like Gevalia, Maxwell House, Twinings and more there’s really more than enough selection for everyone.

:::

I’m not big on reviews and giveaways, but when I was asked to try out the new Tassimo T20 and then give one away to one of my readers (okay, there’s probably one reader left. *waves* Hi Dad! And you can’t even win because you’re Canadian. Isn’t that the pits?) how could I turn down that opportunity?

The only drag is the winner has to be US-based. Sorry, my fellow Canadian winter bunnies. But! for you, I will add $20 via auto-fill to an existing coffee-shop card, or send one of the same value to you in the mail. Fair?

Now, Americus, leave a comment on this post. Any old comment will do. Say hi, tell me which hunk-a-hunk-of-burning-love you would share your Tassimo coffee with, tell me about the snow, whatever.

Giveaway closes on Thursday night at 11:59pm EST.

Tweet this for an additional entry. Make sure to come back and put your link in the comments!

It’s as close to a coffee IV as you’re going to get. Visit @temptingsam to #win a #Tassimo T20 http://bit.ly/hWNJY8

And the business of disclosure: I received the Tassimo brewer free of costs and all opinions are my own.

***

WINNER’S ANNOUNCED!

Congratulations to ginnette4!! She is the winner of the Tassimo T20. Enjoy!

And alimartell has picked herself up a $20 gift card to (one of) her favourite coffee shops! Yay Ali!

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I first *met* Susan, WhyMommy in July, 2007. We attended BlogHer virtually through Second Life. She had been going through chemo and was too weak to attend BlogHer in person, I? Was too chicken shit. We chatted, danced, socialized with others and attended some “panels”. It was an interesting experience, but what I remember most was her avatar. Susan’s caricature wore a beautiful black evening gown with elbow length gloves, a tiara – and was bald. I will admit, I was taken back and it made my heart hurt knowing what she was going through, but at the same time, her astonishing grace shone through. I was in awe of her, and to this day, that remains.

Susan is a remarkable, strong, vibrant woman. She embodies grace, perseverance and life. Despite the fact that she has, and continues to fight the cancer – which she’s now been diagnosed with for the fourth time in four years – she continues to share and put others before her. Her strength is admirable. Her brilliance is intoxicating. Her unwavering fight is awe-inspiring. Susan is amazing.

Once again, Susan has taken it upon herself to further bring awareness to cancer and help support other survivors. The following are Susan’s words; please read them, take them to heart, and if you can, please consider helping. There are many survivors who need support to receive the on-going care they need.

:::

Can’t Afford Lymphedema Sleeves?

Are you or do you know a breast cancer survivor?  Please read today’s post and pass it on. If you can’t afford to purchase a lymphedema sleeve, gauntlet, and/or glove, and you can’t manage your post-mastectomy swelling, Crickett’s Answer and LympheDIVAs want to help.

Today, I am pleased to announce a NEW opportunity for breast cancer survivors who have had a mastectomy and/or axillary dissection of the lymph nodes due to breast cancer and have swelling of one or both arms but cannot afford the $200-$500+ cost for two sets of the compression sleeves and gauntlets that survivors with lymphedema must wear every day to keep the swelling in check.

Although lymphedema sleeves are medically necessary, they are not covered by Medicare OR most insurance plans under current law, and thousands of survivors go without the sleeves, needlessly suffering congestion, swelling, and pain that interferes with their normal activities.

Crickett’s Answer, a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization founded in memory of Crickett Julius, has just joined forces with LympheDIVAs to help other breast cancer survivors who fight not just the beast that is breast cancer but also the fallout of side effects that includes lymphedema, which may limit survivors’ activities.  By working together, they are now able to provide needed lymphedema sleeves and gauntlets to women who need them but cannot afford them out-of-pocket or convince their insurance companies to pay for them.  They do this in honor and memory of their loved ones.

Crickett Julius survived breast cancer only four months, but her mother and cousin are dedicated to helping other women enjoy their life post-diagnosis through Crickett’s Answer, a 501(c)3 organization that provides wigs, mastectomy products, oncology/mastectomy/ lymphedema massage, facials, and other pampering services as a way to help women feel feminine and beautiful after losing their hair and/or breasts.

LympheDIVAs was founded by Rachel Troxell and Robin Miller, friends and breast cancer survivors who wanted to create a more elegant and comfortable compression sleeve.  Rachel continued to build the company during her later recurrence.  Even though she died two years ago, at the age of 37, her father, mother, and brother continue to grow the company in her honor and in the hope that LympheDIVAs’ compression apparel will continue to inspire breast cancer survivors everywhere to feel as beautiful, strong, and confident as Rachel was.

To ask for help, please download and complete the forms at Crickett’s Answer, writing in “lymphedema sleeve and gauntlet” on page 2 of the application.

To help someone else, please copy and paste this post on your blog or email it to a friend (or your local cancer center!).

To donate, go here.

To help change the law so that this medical garment is covered by cancer survivors’ insurance, stay tuned for more about the Lymphedema Treatment Act when it is reintroduced in the 2011 Congress.

Because of these women, these three thirty-something women who didn’t ask to get breast cancer, and the men and women who love them, there is now help for women who can’t afford lymphedema sleeves, a medically necessary garment not typically covered by insurance.  Their legacy lives on.

Note: Cancer patients who are members of the National Lymphedema Network and who are treated by an NLN therapist can also apply to the NLN garment fund, set up in honor of Marilyn Westerbrook.

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A Manhattan condo is a dream of mine.

Hell, a Toronto condo wouldn’t be bad either.

But, Manhattan. The Big Apple, The City That Never Sleeps, New York: that’s where I belong. The fast pace, the activity, the multiculturalism: it’s all perfect. Yes, much like Toronto, but on a much grander scale.

Until a couple weeks ago, it’s was 13 years since my last visit as a scrawny 16-year-old teenager. We went on a trip, my best friend and I, for her birthday. Her mom and aunt as our chaperones. The city was different then. The people a little less friendly, the cabbies a little more crass, the streets a little less welcoming.

Since my visit all those years ago, things have changed. Considerably. The once stereotypical cold-hearted concrete jungle is alive and thriving despite its more recent tragedies. New York makes me happy. It makes me feel alive.

The purpose of my trip, BlogHer’s annual conference, where I spent less than 20 minutes partaking in any conference-related activities (aside from some running, expo-ing and parties), because Dude? I was in New York. It really wasn’t deliberate. I had every intention of participating in some Room of Your Owns, lunches and breakfasts, but in the end, the streets were calling me.

No, not like that.

I felt this incredible GUILT for being stuffed away in a (freezing) hotel ballroom while New York City was outside! I couldn’t fight it. The bustling subway, the smell of street meat mixed with musty stale humidity. Appetizing, right? It smells much better than you would think.

When I planned my trip bought my tickets back in April, I assumed 5 days would be sufficient.

Hell, I didn’t even think I was going to be able to swing this trip at all until I won a sponsorship from Twenty70 Hosting.

I planned to arrive early on Wednesday, Conference and then do tourist things until Sunday evening, but I had conveniently forgot that IT WAS NEW YORK CITY. There is NEVER enough time for New York. Of all the things I had on my list of must-see/must-do, I think I crossed off three.

Jackson Pollock at MoMA

All those *missed* opportunities – like seeing the Statue of Liberty, walking down Wall Street, going to the Empire State Building (again) – were filled with amazing experiences I would never trade in a million years. I mean, it’s not often I have an opportunity to see some of the most amazing friends I’ve ever met who just happen to be living in my computer.

Me and my Casey (@mooshinindy)

Me and Angie (@alotofnothing), photo belonging to Angie.

Miss Emily (@designhermomma)

My new BFF, Kim (@kimorlandini)

For me, New York wouldn’t have been the same without them. Without many of you. A chance meeting as we entered and exited elevators, seeking people out via text and twitter, a quick hug as we pass by: it’s all too surreal, having all those people you know right there at the same time. People, who though so different from each other have very similar likes. People who get it, and aren’t annoyed by the constant glow of backlight from a smartphone while one checks twitter, or facebooks a friend.

Though I had such great experiences this year, I was burdened by thoughts of last years conference where I witnessed first hand the downward spiral of our writing community.

This community, our community, used to be more about personal reflection and memoir-style blogging, as Cecily wrote just yesterday. That’s where I started, and where I still feel most comfortable; but as she pointed out, we’re a dying breed – and I think that’s why I have been having such a hard time maintaining this site.

Since BlogHer in Chicago last year, after I witnessed the onslaught of our own community members whoring themselves out for a couple free dildos and rubber shoes, I’ve resented what this community has become. I only really just got that today after reading Cecily’s post. I just want our old community back, but also am not obilivous to the fact that this vortex of consumption, need and one-upping has become the way of the future. Book deals, television appearances, brand ambassadors, review sites and giveaways are the new Memoir-style blogging, and as much as I’d love to see the dinosaurs make a comeback I think those days are gone.

Now is where we, I, decide to either shit of get off the pot. Do I keep plugging along and blogging about me, my faults, my life, my triumphs, my failures while throwing a couple reviews and giveaways into the mix to appease the masses?

I was hoping that this conference was going to catapult me past this resentment. Past this uncomfortable-ness in my own blog.

But it hasn’t.

Instead, it’s renewed my idea of friendship, love and companionship. It has reminded me that there are handfuls of people I would – and could – spend every single day with, and that I have met them because of this community.

Me and Mishelle (@secretagentmama), taken by Mishelle

No amount of swag, promises of Blog Fame, or traffic will change what you mean to me.

For a moment, you were there. And in a New York minute, you were gone. Back in my computer.

And that, friends, is what THIS is all about.

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I remember being so intimidated by my peers who were members of the local track club and trained for running events while I would show up in my thick cotton jogging shorts and ratty runners. I stuck out like a sore thumb amidst those well-groomed track athletes and their perfectly pressed running uniforms and expensive track shoes. I would stay bundled up in my sweatshirt and jogging pants, while they sauntered around in their little cliques with matching track outfits. I was so jealous of their status, as if the fact that they were part of a track and field club made them The Elite.

Okay, I digress. They kind of were. I mean, a handful of them, over the years, were named to the National team and went on to compete in PamAm Games, and Olympic Games but whatever.

I never trained outside of gym class or our school track meets. I remember *competing* in grade nine gym class, basically just fucking around, when the coach for the track team approached me after a 100 metre sprint. He asked me to come to tryouts and see if I was interested in joining the team. Sprinting was always my forte, it was quick. Not a drawn out marathon run requiring loop after loop on the school’s crappy gravel/sand track. I figured that was something I had to train for, and I was all about fast and easy.

Needless to say, I didn’t really excel in track and field. I mean, not to brag, but I did manage to hold my own against some of those elitists, but eventually I gave up. Afterall, track wasn’t one of the cool sports like basketball, volleyball or soccer…

I think that sigma of running stuck with me: it’s a club. A club that is hard to get into and only the strong will survive. Up until a few months ago, I envisioned that track club and how little and insignificant they made me feel.

Then something sorta clicked: I wanted to run.

I wanted to train to be a better runner.

I wanted to run distance; to take those seemingly endless loops around the school track.

Okay, so I don’t run on the track. Though the one at the school near me is very worthy – if it wasn’t overrun with hot much-too-young-boys and high school track stars. Ahem.)

If you’re following me on twitter (Um. Hello?! Follow me!)  or Facebook, I’ve probably overrun your feed with my Couch to 5k updates as I’ve been working towards a 5K run at BlogHer this August (where I will run in a tutu for Tanner). My goal is to run the whole thing; and at first I thought I would never succeed, but I’m getting closer and closer to doing it, people! The other night I completed the dreaded 20 minute non-stop run.

I was so anxious about the whole thing, but I persevered and made it through!

(Tomorrow is the 25 minute non-stop run, I am scared. Again. LOL)

But! I am training. I am succeeding and I am so proud of myself. I can’t even tell you what this means to me.

I am more confident than ever I will run the whole 5K in August.

If not for me, for Tanner.

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Remember how I said I didn’t have the time or the energy to carry the weight of the internet and its our troubles on my shoulders? How I said I was thinking of letting some stupid corporation bully me into relinquishing my rights to a domain I purchased?

Ya. About that.

The more I thought about why I was willing to let Cosco Management Inc. bully me into handing over my domain, the more pissed off I became. Pissed off at myself more than them. Let me explain. The issue here is not really that of carrying the internet’s burden on my shoulders. The issue? Is failure. *My* failure. See, I have this fail-safe mechanism that kicks in whenever I’m faced with a daunting task. My reasoning is that if I don’t fight, I can’t be upset if I lose. In this case, if I don’t fight for my principles, I can’t feel guilty that I’ve taken time from my family, and spent money we didn’t have in the first place (which I found out, I don’t have to pay a dime to respond to the dispute… so YAY!). Like with exercising: for the longest time I avoided it so I wasn’t let down when I put HOURS into workouts only to see little change in the scale. Or taking years to begin the filing process for accreditation in my field…

I fear stepping outside the box for risk of failure.

Faced with the daunting task of reading the eight emails containing attachment after attachment, page after page, where Cosco Management Inc.’s (owner’s of Cosco, Dorel Juvenile Group, Safety 1st, Eddie Bauer, Quinny, Maxi-Cosi, Hoppop, and trademark holders for Baby on Board – which they haven’t done a great job protecting in the first place… )  lawyer laid out – quite intelligently (Heh.), why I am a delinquent,  trademark-infringing, cyber-squatting, domain stealer, feeding upon the innocence of on-line shoppers who are deceived dumb so uneducated they don’t know the difference between BORED and BOARD, I panicked.

That’s just about the awesomest run-on sentence ever. Take it in, people.

I panicked because: 1) I just don’t have the time. 2) Legal is like Shakespeare to me: The more I try to understand it, the more I second guess what I’m comprehending. 3) BUT WHAT IS THIS GOING TO COST MEEEEEEE!?

When I wrote about my tales of woe, I was shocked to see the responses, emails and offers of help and support. Those that have offered to help know I am extremely grateful, but I had a hard time accepting that support because I feel I as though I am taking those people away from other important tasks in their lives to help me fight a losing battle.

But I took a leap of faith.

I put my trust into strangers friends, and took them up on their offers to help. I am currently working with a lawyer, Evan Brown (@internetcases on twitter) who took time out of his busy lawyer-y schedule to help me file my Response. I don’t know if it’s the accent (which he says I have, but I’m certain it’s him), but I get this sense of calm from Evan. After our conversation the other day I felt much more secure in my decision to file a response at all.

So, we’re responding. We’re fighting. Not because we’ll win or get anything out of this, but because I feel it’s important. Not for the domain itself -  neither Stef or I care if they get it – but because even though I may be fighting a David and Goliath-type battle, I know in my heart that I can’t just let them walk all over me. I know when I think about it years down the road I will be angry with myself for letting them get away with pushing people around just for the fuck of it. I mean, if they had a solid case it may be a different story, but dude? Did you see their evidence?

Goliath is taking one in the shins this time, people.

:::

Also? I am totally boycotting all those companies from now on. I am torching everything I own that is Cosco Management Inc. related (even though was I really want to do is ship it all back to them, ripe with week old diapers and my response to the dispute. Too bad I’ve been advised against it…) and telling everyone who will listen to me about this bullshit.

I urge you to stand up and fight. This is just one instance of a corporation bullying the little guy because they feel they are entitled. We have to stand up for ourselves because you could be next…

{image source}

• Sued!

***UPDATED, again: Feel free to voice your concern. This isn’t just about me, it could happen to each and everyone one of us who owns / operates a website or a domain.

Contact information for Cosco Management Inc.
300 Delaware Ave., Ste. 1285
Wilmington, DE 19801, United States
(302)576-2707

Contact page for Dorel Juvenile Group, Inc.: here

Eddie Bauer Customer Service
P.O. Box 7001
Groveport, OH 43125

Contact form for Safety 1st: here

** UPDATED: And so it continues…

Notification.  You are hereby notified that an administrative proceeding has been commenced against you…

I now must provide my response to the Complaint… *sigh*

I’m being sued by a large corporation who wants my domain.

Not because it’s theirs or that I’ve obtained it illegally, immortal or unjustly, but because they want it. Someone found my URL by some means – which I can only assume were they misspelled the word which they intended and accidently happened upon the domain in question.

Cosco Management, Inc., and Dorel Juvenile Group, Inc., related and affiliated companies, together own the rights of Baby on Board (yes, the Baby on Board) – and are suing me for the domain – babyonbored.net, which I own for a client / friend. Many of us parents know this company very well as they are the “go to” company for all things baby. Cosco Management Inc. are in relation to: Cosco, Safety 1st (I have two strollers, signs, safety items, toy, etc.), and Eddie Bauer (which I have two, 3-1 car seats) — all bought and paid for with my own hard-earned money.

I was sent legal documents on Monday May 10, 2010 describing the Complaint.

1. Identical and or confusingly similar to their domain

2. I am currently running ads and selling a product similar to that which they have manufacturing and selling for over 26 years.

Respondent is using the <babyonbored.net> domain name to divert Internet users to a commercial website that displays links to third-party websites, including links to direct competitors of Complainant that offer identical goods and services to those of Complainant.  Furthermore, upon information and belief, Respondent derives commercial benefit from these diversions due to click-through fees from the links on the website.

3. I am purposefully confusing potential clients and diverting them from the trademarked brand and therefore stealing their business.

The <babyonbored.net> domain name is a website that prominently features a generic search engine with numerous links to various goods and services that are identical to Complainant’s goods and services.  Upon information and belief, Respondent receives commissions for diverting Internet users to third-party websites via the search engine and links located at Respondent’s website.  Additionally, Respondent’s use of Complainant’s distinctive BABY ON BOARD® mark in the Respondent’s domain name creates a likelihood of confusion and suggests an attempt to attract Internet users to Respondent’s website for Respondent’s commercial gain.

“Evidence” presented to show that I am willfully diverting Internet users to third-party websites via the search engine and links located on my site is this:

Exhibit A is apparently a representation of *my* website and *my* ads which I am was using to deceive my fellow bloggers, online shoppers, and internet users. This, my friends, is, in actuality, a screenshot of who.is, which is a search engine-like website for those looking for domain availability. This is not my website – as you can see on the top right corner of the page which displays the URL of the actual page. The ads in question – which I’ve enlarged for you – do not belong to me, but to who.is. The search capabilities – which allegedly divert Internet users also belong to who.is.

I am under the impression that the person who found this “website”, created this lawsuit and entered said “website” into evidence is of limited Internet knowledge based on the fact the page they were presenting did not even point to the domain in question.

The domain is was vacant prior to it being taken from me and placed in a “holding account” by Name.com, who claims that:

Per ICANN (Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers) policy, registrars such as Name.com are required to lock the domain name till the conclusion of the UDRP proceedings.

and the domain still points to a page similar to this:

This page is simply a placeholder for which I receive no compensation.

The Complainant is merely trying to take the domain and is not currently looking for any monetary compensation (unless the Panel does not vote in their favour as their lawyer has informed me):

Of course, if for some reason the Panel does not transfer the domain name to our client, we reserve the right to take any action or demand which may be made on behalf of our client in the event that further action is required to terminate infringement of our client’s rights in its mark, including seeking relief and damages in a court of law.

But get this: ”babyonboard.com” is registered, and has been since 1998, yet has never had a website affiliated with it in relation to Cosco Management Inc. (only a pregnancy p0rno site shows up). “babyonboard.com”, “babyonboard.net”, “babyonboard.org”, “babyonboard.info”, “babyonboard.us”, “babyonboard.biz”, “babyonboard.in”, “babyonboard.mobi” are all registered but are not active which makes me question how I am diverting traffic and potential consumers.

The irony of it all is that I’ve been a HUGE supporter of their products. I have played them up to just about everyone I know. I have purchase countless Safety 1st items for myself and friends, I encouraged my parents to buy a similar car seat to the ones we have, and I have even used their damn “Baby on Board” signage.

And, you’re probably wondering, Why make such a big deal over this? Let them take the domain and be done with it!? But it’s not about the domain. This is about being cyber bullied by a big corporation just because they feel they have the right to something: the proverbial school yard bully taking what they want, using intimidation tactics to boot.

It upsets me that a corporation of this magnitude would take these measures. I mean, I would understand if the domain I owed had a similar name, sold baby merchandise and made a substantial income, but babyonbored.net is really none of those things.

At this point, I just have to sit back and wait to see what happens; there’s really nothing to do until ICAAN responds to the Complainant and it’s decided if the domain is taken from me and given to Cosco Management Inc.

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I’ve never felt such love for someone I’ve never met.

Her bright eyes are so captivating.

Her smile, infectious.

Her laugh never fails to make me smile.

It’s impossible to not fall head over heals for her.

:::

It’s amazing how a year has gone so fast, yet feels like the same moment in time replays over and over.

A year.

Remembering how worried I was.

Remembering those exact moments.

I remember.

:::

There aren’t adequate words for my friends who have lost so much.

Nothing ever seems sufficient.

Just know, I know.

Just know, I care.

I will always remember your little girl, Heather and Mike.

I will always remember your big sister, Annabel.

Always.

:::

If you’re so inclined, please consider making a donation to Friends of Maddie or to the March of Dimes in Madeline’s honour. Your donation will go towards helping premature babies have a fighting chance at a long and fulfilling life.

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I crave to write. I think about it constantly.

I dream of a finished office space, white furniture with wall-to-wall white shelving filled with my books and my magazines. I dream of pristine walls with a slight hint of turquoise. I dream of a wide open window with lightweight sheers and a white orchid sitting on the sill. I see myself sitting at a glass top desk, lightly tapping out my mediocrity for all of the Internet.

In my head, that space will make it all better. That space will bring me back to the spot where I want to write again. In that space I will work, providing others with their lovely writing spaces while I will begin to remember what it was like when I would write something I was proud of. Something. Anything.

But that space won’t relieve my mental block. That space won’t be a reality for a long, long while – if ever. That space, this space, seems to have met it’s end. Or at least it feels that way.

It’s been months since I’ve been able to write something that others can connect with. The more I read, the more I realize that the need to be really good at what you do is ever more prevalent. As parent blogging changes and morphs rapidly into blogging for marketing and sponsorship, those whom used to write personally are converting and only the strong remain unwavering.

I am wavering. I have no desire to chase sponsorships no matter how much I’d love to be at the next *it* conference. Yet like others, I want to be noticed, adored and READ. (If you’re a blogger and say you don’t care about those things, you’re lying to us and worst of all – yourself. No one puts themselves out on a public stage just because.) But I have long since passed the stage of promoting this site. There is no more clicking around traffic building sites or adding my site to all the “communities”. I don’t work on improving my SEO (search engine optimization), nor do I care how you found my blog.

This blog is now dying. Actually, I believe it’s been dead for a while.

I am no longer – what I believe to have been – a member of the blogging community. There is very little community. It’s a shark tank full of people looking to make a quick buck and get stuff and if you happen to step on some toes to do it? So be it. There are some great people whom I’ve kept in contact with, but for the most part, my blog reader and twitter feed has transcended into white noise. There are fewer voices with a message; there are even less with ones I want to hear. That’s not to say that your writing is falling on deaf ears, rather that it’s just getting hard to discern the heartfelt writing. With FTC regulations, disclosure statements and disclaimers on satirical writing, it just seems so contrived and fake, even though the intention is quite the opposite.

Transparency is a fickle bitch.

As much as we’re transparent about what we’re writing and saying online, it’s behind the scenes where we are the most clouded,  contrary and unethical. Talking about people, their actions, their writing, their reviews, their “free gifts”, their sell-out attitudes. I see no disclaimers on the hateful statements spewed back and forth, no transparency in the relationships we are pretending to have.

I am no different.

I’ve sat back and watched for months as I fought my own internal battle of facing the truth. I’ve sat back and debated whether or not I owe you, readers and friends, a statement regarding things that have happened behind the scenes. You know, in the name of transparency. Am I being dishonest with you by not speaking out? Am I making myself appear guilty by allowing those who have spoken out – albeit inaccurately – on my behalf? Because every. single. fucking. time. I take to this keyboard, I stall. I am paralyzed by thoughts of people thinking that everything I write from here on out is a fucking lie because of something they’ve heard elsewhere. I think about the links and the emails flying back and forth saying, Did you see what she wrote now? I can’t believe she said that. What a fuckin’ liar. She is dead to me. After all this and she has the nerve.. Why does she even bother?

Dearest friends have said to let it go. My wonderful and loyal friends have said it nothing to worry about and that I acted out of good faith and love. My good friends, the people THAT KNOW ME are right.

But what about the others? The ones that I concern myself with when they really have shown they deserve little of my time. Why? Why do I give even an iota of shit for what they think?

Because I am human.

I am just like you: I want acceptance, I want love, I want people to care about me too. I want forgiveness, friendship and relationships. Because I am human.

Without transparency I feel I am stifling myself. I can write here over and over that I don’t care what you think and that it’s time to move on, but the truth is I do care, and I can’t move on – because EVERY. FUCKING. TIME. I open this computer I think about the people who have (may have) heard something and are taking it verbatim. I think about the fact that no one has even ASKED my side. People I thought were friends have taken what they’ve heard as gospel and haven’t even given me a chance. It angers me, it hurts me and it’s not fair.

But it’s not only about me and my perceived conflicts. There are people who I KNOW have been talking shit about some people I care deeply for and then they are playing nice to their faces and telling them they have their backs when they definitely do not. I know they say they are friends and “would do anything for them”  and then have been calling them hurtful and hateful things behind their backs. You forget, my friends, the internet is very much like high school. Things are said and they DO get back to the people you’re talking about; even if you’re calling someone a “crazy bitch” in jest, it may not be perceived that way in some conversations.

I think we owe it to ourselves – as compassionate, responsible and caring adults to just cut the shit. If you don’t like someone or something they’ve said, so be it. Deal with it. Move on. But the name calling? The hurtful and evil comments about people you *think* you know are really getting us nowhere. Because at the end of the day, has it made your life *that* much better by saying such evil things about someone else? No. Does letting someone know “for their benefit” that a friend of theirs has wronged someone else? No. Because no matter what you say, they will continue to make their own decisions in life and your hurtful words of “concern” and “support” are only going to make you look like that fickle bitch, Transparency.

• 2011: Suck Less
• A New York Minute
• Pants Optional

There aren’t a lot of people in this world who laugh at my crude sense of humour. Because, really? I am a twelve year old boy trapped in an aging saggy woman body.

When I first met her in person, Anissa was sitting in the lobby of the Sheraton Hotel in Chicago during this past BlogHer. As I walked past the lobby on the way to the elevators, I heard her cry out, “Hey! Bitches!” to which I, of course responded to, because honestly? HELLO!

As I turned towards the person calling out some derogatory reference my name I saw Anissa waving manically.

She was so pleased with my response that she began yelling to anyone who would listen, “Hey! She turned around! She’s turned around!”

For all I know, she could have meant it literally. I mean, it’s not like that would have been the first time. But I took it as endearing: that’s what us bitches do.

A huge grin crossed her face as she shoved her gigantic boobs in my face hugged me fiercely, and it was then I was completely sold on all that is Anissa.

photo taken by Shash and stolen borrowed from Anissa’s facebook.

Still, to this day, I love her like a sister. There aren’t many people that can make me laugh the way she does.

Why am I blowing smoke up Anissa’s ass telling you all about Anissa?

Because yesterday afternoon news traveled through twitter like a tsunami that Anissa was in the ICU after suffering a stroke. At the rip old age young vibrant age of 36, Anissa has suffered a second stroke (you can read about her first one here).

But not only has she been dealing with her own health issues, the Mayhew family just celebrated a huge milestone for the youngest in their clan. Peyton has been one year cancer-free!  (Peyton’s story can be found at Anissa’s first blog Hope4Peyton.) For once in a long while everyone was healthy and doing well. Now this.

Right now, there is a P.O.  box being set up for those of us far away to help out.

**UPDATE**

The P.O. box address is:

The Mayhew Family
860 Johnson Ferry Road 140-184
Atlanta, GA 30342

By sending gift cards for food, gas and other necessities we can try to help alleviate the burden on their family of five. By sending funds we can help diminish the financial burden, because at this point? There is little news about what the future holds for the Mayhews.

For more information, please visit Aiming Low where they are trying valiantly to provide up-to-date information on Anissa’s condition and what we can do to help.

If you write a post for Anissa, please take a moment to add it to the Mr. Linky provided at Heather‘s site, Izzy‘s site, as well as at Aiming Low.

If you have questions, please email

Please note: the family has asked for privacy at this time. Please respect the Mayhew family’s privacy by NOT calling the hospital. The outpouring of love is amazing, but we need to remember that there is a family who needs their space.

Most of all: Please pray that our friend pulls through this.

• Overwhelming Need
• And The World Keeps Spinning
• A New York Minute

A day of remembrance. A day to thank our soldiers, and those fallen, whom have served our country proud. Those whom have protected our freedom and our way of life.

Remembrance Day.

As much as I wanted to write a dedication to those who have served, there is someone else who is weighing heavier on my mind and my heart.

A special someone who also endured a brave fight for life. For her life. A little girl who beat the odds, if only for a short time. Her impact has been so tremendous. Her glowing, vibrant smile, forever imprinted.

Happy Birthday, Sweet Angel.

Please take a moment to pop by Heather and Mike‘s sites to send some love on what would have been Maddie’s second birthday.

And, if you’re so inclined. Please take a moment to sponsor a support pack at Friends of Maddie, a foundation created by Maddie’s parents in their daughter’s name.

• Maddie’s Story Hits KTLA
• Always.
• Five Months: Time Doesn’t Heal All Wounds