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!

• The Ultimate Coffee Giveway! Trust Me.
• I Can Haz Bullet Pointz? Now Wit Linkz 2 Yer Blogz!
• Cure JM

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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I never thought I’d run out of things to blog about. How could I? There are funny, amazing moments to capture almost daily. Not just kids and their poop, but real, awesome moments of enlightenment, stupid shit people do, rants about anything.

There really is so much stuff to write about, but I’ve found myself: a) without time, and b) stuck in this idiotic place where I feel that whatever I write here has to be profound; it has to troop-rallying awesomeness that invokes emotion! and either makes people laugh or cry, dammit. There’s enough drivel on the internet and contributing to it just well, sucks.

At BlissdomCanada, Scott Stratten’s (Mr. UnMarketing if you’ve just recently fallen off the turnip truck) keynote touched on having something to say. Scott talked about how at one time or another we all suck. Everyone sucks; we just have to try to suck less.

Do you know how hard it is to suck less?

Everyone has their own standard of “suck” and to meet or exceed another person’s expectations of what exactly “suck” is; it’s impossible. It’s like trying to please everyone: you just have to accept it will never happen.

But we don’t have to suck less by anyones standards but our own.

And if you’re going to suck? Own your suck.

So this year, I will own my suck. I will work towards writing more, even if it’s not published here. I will write in my voice, I will document more stories and care less about their delivery. Delivery can come through editing later, my goal is just to write something. Anything.

2011: Suck Less.

• For Me
• A New York Minute
• Pants Optional

I vividly remember my grade eight class speech. It was about dreams and REM (rapid eye movement) sleep. I worked so hard on it, practicing endlessly in my bedroom as I watched myself in the mirror. I remember, when the day came, just how scared I was standing in front of my peers, trying desperately not to read from my already soggy, battered cue cards.

I stumbled over one particular paragraph and as the giggles ripple through the classroom, I tried to regain my composure. I could feel myself begin to blush. I remember becoming increasingly hot, sweating, and trying not to cry.

:::

Three years ago, in an effort to help me step out of my comfort zone, my boss asked me to prepare an abstract for a paper I would co-write and submit for consideration to be presented at a world-wide symposium. The article, which was later published in Civil Engineering Magazine, pushed me beyond my comforts as a technical writer, but the presentation portion was my nightmare come true.

The abstract was submitted and was accepted as part of the proceedings for the symposium. I was elected to present this piece to the best in the field: doctors and engineers, pioneers of their craft. Many of whom may be considered, by others, to be my peers; but to me, I was (am) a lowly little grunt worker who was to tell these people their business.

I was beside myself.

I had panic attacks just thinking about traveling out of country to speaking in front of thousands of people about something they knew considerably more about that I. I just couldn’t fathom this being the best way to help me overcome my fear of public speaking. I mean, this was what most would consider the Holy Grail of public speaking.

I bailed. Someone else (another co-author) went in my place. I disappointed so many people, but no matter how hard I tried to come to terms, I just couldn’t will myself to stand up there in front of such an esteemed group of people.

It’s likely I’ll never have that opportunity again, and for that I regret my decision. Yet, despite that regret, I continued to avoid speaking engagements for years.

When Catherine asked me to participate, my first reaction was “Um. NO.”, but I hesitated. I hesitated because I knew I wanted this, and also didn’t want to pass up another wonderful opportunity.

I agreed.

I willingly put myself in a position where I could (hopefully?) gain control over this all-encompassing fear.

I participated in my first ever blogging conference panel at Blissdom Canada.

For weeks I fret over what I would say, how to keep my hands, how to remember key points I wanted to share, or how I would react to the faces of those staring back at me. Were they judging? Were they listening? Were they bored? Did I know what I was talking about? Would they think I was (am) a flake?

I wore layers of clothes as if they would protect me from the watchful eyes of the audience. Not only are scarves comforting, they provide a buffer between myself and those around me; as if to protect me, help me feel less exposed.

The ladies I spoke with were so wonderful and supportive, I am certain I wouldn’t have made it through without them. Yet even with their encouragement, each beat of my heart felt as though it were inches closer to leaping from my chest. I was certain the entire table was pulsing as I leaned in for support. I was so hot, yet shivering. My mouth felt like cotton balls each time I went to speak and though I really can’t remember all that I said (except I know I WAS RAMBLING) I am certain of one thing: I survived.

And then I sang karaoke. In a pink wig.

Dawn, Tanis, Karen, Me, and Angella

All photos belong to Casey, @mooshinindy.

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Have one of those friends who always have their crap together? You know the ones; birthday invites are out weeks in advance, the Christmas baking is done three weeks before, and the kids are put together and the house is tidy all before 8pm?

Ya. Me too. God love her, she’s amazing. Really, she is! (You totally are! Please don’t call me and ask if I’m being sarcastic again, because I’m not!)

I? On the other hand, am not so amazing.

But, good news! I can now give everyone the impression that I am!

Have you seen Shutterfly’s new holiday photo cards? Have you? Go look.

To my fellow procrastinating, not-so-on-the-ball, friends: let’s make beautiful cards too!

Clean, minimalist, and sophisticated designs. My favourite. Something fun and colourful, yet doesn’t take away from the smiling faces.

I am planning to send them to family this season. They’re going to think I slaved for hours over photos, painstakingly preparing each envelope label, and getting my behind to the post office in time to buy stamps and send these babies off with enough time to spare so they don’t arrive AFTER Christmas like last year. Really, they did. I even bought them back in November fully anticipating I would be! prepared!, then failed once again.

Well, they *may* be there before Christmas since Shutterfly can do the labeling and mailing too. (Yes, I realize Shutterfly can’t do everything and I need to accept some accountability. Thanks Mom.)

I know, right? AH-MAZING.

There are also some gorgeous Hanukkah cards for those who celebrate. Cute, right?

And, if you own a small business? Look like you’ve thought about your special clients (okay, okay, you totally have because, hello! Making cards!) and send them a small token of gratitude with gorgeous business Christmas cards.

Heck, even if you feel like giving out Thanksgiving cards, Shutterfly has you covered. Because really? What holiday involving turkey doesn’t deserve a card?

And, that my friends, is how this slacker makes holiday card giving look like it was done by a pro. Go forth, young grasshopper. Find a card, order, and then sit back with a glass of wine while Shutterfly does the work*.

I was asked to share three of my favourite designs, but I couldn’t find just three. I don’t know how I’m going to narrow it down…

Want some? You know you do! Blog about Shutterfly and their holiday card selection to receive 50 cards of your own.

(Look below for more details.)

See? I told you we would rock this Martha Stewart-thing.

*Well, you have to ask them to do the work, and then pay them for it. Small price to pay when it comes to bragging rights if I do say so myself.

:::

Do you want 50 free holiday cards from Shutterfly? Click here to go to Shutterfly for information on how you can get 50 free cards this holiday season, and make sure to select Clever 1000 as the referral source.

This post is part of a series sponsored by Shutterfly. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do.

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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.

• Why friends probably shouldn’t work together (Read: Shit, we really need an accountant)
• 2011: Suck Less
• Pants Optional

After hitting publish on my last post, I cried.

I cried because I was scared, worried, anxious about reactions I may receive. Not so much about the pictures, though they were pretty hard for me to post, but that I felt completely exposed. Not only did I divulge into how my messed up brain works, but combine that with a couple of pictures of my flabby mom-post-baby-two-years-ago belly, which. Dude? Ouch.

I kinda worried you were going to think I was being an attention seeking douchebag by going on about Boo! I don’t see any results! I suck!. For anyone who has read this site for any amount of time, I would think they know that’s not how I roll. I am straight to the point. I share those deep, dark, parts because even though I think I’m alone with some of the demons I face, I know there are others out there who fight something similar. I share because a) I can’t keep my mouth shut and b) I am an open book.

I’ve been accused of lacking soft skills, which okay, sure. Sometimes I can be a little crass. *ahem* But I see no reason for bullshitting you. I don’t sugar coat things because, really? Who wants to deal with that shit? Some people find my straightforwardness cold and intimidating, but that’s not who I am. Sometimes I am shy, quiet and timid when faced with situations I am uncomfortable with. I don’t like attention.

This weight loss journey has brought more attention my way. People notice my hard work, congratulate me, and I get all hot and turn bright red. I am grateful that people notice, but I suck at receiving compliments.

But I like compliments.

It’s a vicious circle, really.

And when you see me at BlogHer, I may appear to be a little standoff-ish, but I’m really not. I am waiting for you to approach me because I’m scared you’ll reject me when I introduce myself. I may smile at you, but not say anything because I usually sound like an idiot when I try small talk. Just give me a chance, because I really can be fun!

:::

The winner of my book giveaway has been chosen and will be notified shortly, thanks for participating!

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I changed my design in hopes it would give me a refreshed outlook on blogging. It was a hasty decision brought on by the stagnant, putrid smell emanating from this site. Each and every time I’ve come here to try to write something I’d feel stifled by the lack of fresh content and the inescapable need to post something.

The Guilt.

Guilt that I haven’t been writing, guilt that there are more things which need my attention and the fact that writing can easily be put off.

I haven’t felt anything for this site in a long time. I’ve toyed with changing names but each time I think I have a new one that original! fun! and awesome! I find that either someone has the domain or the twitter ID has been squatted on by some 11-year-old shit disturber that has written all of four words EIGHT MONTHS AGO and has shit on a perfectly good ID that will likely sit forever until Twitter decides it is high time they started erasing unused IDs.

Also? Where are that kid’s parents?! Don’t they know only perverts, old people and bloggers use twitter?

Wait. What?

I digress.

So instead of moving on and leaving this place to rot, I’ve decided to attempt to revive it and try again make a half-assed attempt at blogging again.

There’s a couple new features to help you search for when I used to write.

I think I’m in the process of removing ads from the site.

I am not wearing any pants.

Aaaaand… we’ll see what happens…

P.S. If you’re here in any browser other than Firefox, I have NO idea what you’re seeing right now since I haven’t even opened another browser to do a check. That can wait until morning.

Besides. What the HELL are you still doing using Internet Explorer?

**Updated: Threaded comments doesn’t seem to be working with Thesis 1.7. They’ve done some changes to the comment file and now it doesn’t render the same. Hoping for a fix soon!

• Internet Reciprocation
• Defection
• I Can’t Even Glue Popsicle Sticks Together Gracefully

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…

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• Sued!