Bitch on the Blog

December 31, 2009

CCC (Conrad’s Code of Conduct)

Filed under: Uncategorized — bitchontheblog @ 20:03

Conrad, let me scratch your itch.

Your last entry is truly inspired. You jump around like a flea on speed.

First of all: Don’t insult those who take time and trouble answering on your blog. As is his prerogative, a friend of mine doesn’t allow comments on his blog, rather ruthlessly weeding them (even mine –  though he loves me as much as a gay man can love a straight woman).  I don’t think his being so picky commendable but at least he sticks to his guns and, being in the public eye, he has to be careful which cannon to let loose on his blog.

Conrad, Conrad, Conrad, if you were my brother I’d tell you to stop making such a fool of yourself: “Of course … that doesn’t mean that my posts themselves may not have an edge!  They will not be aimed at any reading membership, therefore I feel no constraint there.  Otherwise, how could I initiate play in the first”. Conrad, if your posts are not aimed at your readers then who are they aimed at? And if this is your idea of initiating play I do not wish to attend your kindergarten. It might stunt my growth.

“My responses will be gentle for rough, though, because I have found through a series of recent stinging rebukes from a friend that my personal sense of humor does not always play well in Peoria.” Gentle for rough? What are you talking about ? Why not take the rough with the smooth instead? Sense of humour is always personal.  Do you have an allergy to getting ‘stung’? When out in the wild you will get stung, sometimes bitten, rarely mauled. Where is Peoria? And ‘play’, my dear Conrad, you do NOT. In fact, and, yes, Jean, I know I shouldn’t say it: You’d make an excellent traffic warden. Always at the ready to issue a fine when one parks, unaware, on some arbitrary yellow double line of your blog.

Has it ever occurred to you that a “stinging rebuke from a FRIEND”” might actually be something to take note of and think about instead of just ditching the friend?

How contradictory your prose is: You claim to be “unrestrictive” yet are laying down the law as to the strict land of Conrad.

Your ‘Catcher in the Rye’ needs to wake up. If you don’t want the children in your care to tumble off the cliff don’t go near it in the first place. Anyway, WHAT children? I am sorry, Conrad, you ramble – incoherently.

Your “For some blogs, the statements of the posts are the key, but here the conversations generated are the key” leaves me in stunned silence. Come again?

If I were a teacher (which I am not) this ‘essay’ of yours would be marked with so much red I’d run out of space at the margins. Not, of course, that you, Conrad, would be willing to learn anything from this professor’s remarks. I will take pity on you and not go into more detail than I already have.

One piece of advice: Stop pointing the finger all the time and look at yourself  instead: A mirror might come in handy.  You may also pay me a handsome fee to clean up your copy. Saintly Jean will be on standby with a little NLP. Kind Ramana will lend you a crutch to support your wobbly self. Grannymar will sweet talk you to make it all better. Bike Hike Babe will – most likely – just go outside to walk it all off. Gaelikaa has enough on her plate without wiping your brow too. As to the others of your circle – I don’t have the time to second guess all of them. And Ashok is preoccupied with other issues at the moment.

Conrad, no one is after your hide.  And soon the sun will be shining once more.

U

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14 Comments »

  1. Ursula,Ursula, Ursula,
    As much as I want to support you I have to object to the “saintly Jean” part. I keep telling you Trouble is my middle name. Will you never believe me? I’ll bet Conrad will. 😉

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — December 31, 2009 @ 20:41 | Reply

    • Little Miss Trouble, yes/no. It is most confusing how different tongues deal with a question like yours. Even worse when you throw an ‘or’ into the equation of a simple question the answer to which requires a simple yes or no. Then you have really had it.

      I know you are still lagging behind: Happy Twenty Ten from this side of the pond.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — January 1, 2010 @ 00:52 | Reply

  2. No comment. I don’t want to be violating the “Code of Conduct”. I’m going out to walk in the snow.

    Comment by bikehikebabe — December 31, 2009 @ 21:58 | Reply

    • Happy twenty ten to you too. Don’t get lost in the snow. I need you. And ‘no comment’ will not do: Silence is silver, chatter is gold.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — January 1, 2010 @ 00:55 | Reply

      • What I think of here is I look great in silver & sick in gold. That’s because I’m a Winter & not a Fall–those who look great in warm colors.

        Comment by bikehikebabe — January 1, 2010 @ 02:32 | Reply

  3. How did you celebrate? We’re not party people so I’ll play Sudoku and watch the Pallisers on DVD. Andy will finish reading the science fiction I gave him for Christmas. It works for us.

    Happy 2010 to you too.

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — January 1, 2010 @ 01:21 | Reply

    • Thank you, Jean. I need all the best wishes I can get.

      The last twelve months represent the worst year of my life. A year of one loss after the other and a great deal of painful reflection. If it weren’t for my son being the wonderfully shining light he is I’d shut the door behind me months ago and started another life in, say, South of France, Italy, or Spain, complete with gander to guard the premises. Did you know that geese are as good as an alsation (or myself) to snap at an intruder’s heels?

      How did I celebrate? After waving good bye to the teenage hordes descending here earlier (they went to some club and will be back any time soon to be watered, fed and tucked into their beds) I just took it easy. A book, some music, peace and quiet, champagne,and my beloved London’s BIG BEN chiming in the New Year. I hope that those who issued invitations won’t be cross that I just didn’t feel like going out. Sometimes it’s just all too much. And I can’t stand jollity imposed by some date in the calendar.

      I don’t know your stand on New Year’s resolutions. I have long given up on them since they are one sure fire way to make you feel a failure on, say, 5 Jan. However, I did mean to clear and sort my study – which looks like a bomb site – by the end of 31 Dec 09. Never mind. As long as I can fight my way through to my two desks life as we know it will go on. In the immortal words of Scarlett O’Hara: Tomorrow is another day.

      With a bit of luck.

      Take care,
      Ursula

      Comment by bitchontheblog — January 1, 2010 @ 01:49 | Reply

  4. I’m not at all sorry to see the end of 2009. After two shoulders and hip replacements all in one year, I’m the pessimist in this quote:

    “An optimist stays up until midnight to see the New Year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.”

    Comment by bikehikebabe — January 1, 2010 @ 02:45 | Reply

  5. Ursula,
    It sounds as if you and bikehikebabe are kindred spirits on this one. I hope both your 2010s are a lot better than 2009.

    About New Year’s resolutions—behavior modification has always been my hobby, so I used to love this reflective time of year and deciding what changes I wanted to make in my life. I still like the quiet time but haven’t made resolutions/plans for changes in several years. My self is like a garden. It’s planted pretty much the way I like is so I’m just pulling the weeds and nurturing the flowers. Sooner or later a hail storm or some such thing will come by and have to be dealt with, so I’m enjoying it as much as possible while its still here.

    Sorry that sounds like such a downer. It’s not exactly what you need right now, but it’s a fairly accurate description of where I am. I don’t feel low, but I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine either. Thank goodness you have your son!

    Jean

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — January 1, 2010 @ 03:13 | Reply

    • How very poetic, Jean, and lucky you that your self is much as you planned and planted yourself.

      I am a meandering weed. Say, a dandelion – pretty annoying to some and not be eradicated unless you dig up the ground, ruin the lawn and then give up. You know when dandelions go all fluffy? When my son was still young enough to engage in sports like that I used to encourage him and his friends to blow off the seeds in all directions; as I used to do with abandon when their age. Till my neighbours gingerly asked whether I realised what the children were doing and could I please stop ruining their own perfect gardens. So much for fun.

      As to your hailstorm: That’s where it comes in handy to be a weed; so much more resilient than a rose. Of course, I do know what your veiled meaning is: Take heart. I look at my parents and I am sure we’ll have to knock them on the head with a shovel to keep them six foot under. Not that we’ll gain anything material by such action.

      Back to green: Do you remember daisy chains? I loved them. Nowadays, everyone is in such a rush to mow their lawn (other than mine) a daisy barely stands a chance to raise its little head.

      Previously mentioned horde returned half an hour ago. I have been squeezed within an inch of my lung capacity by everyone giving me several bear hugs each: For me a moving and bracing start to the year. I hope all of them will keep the exuberance of their youth in decades to come.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — January 1, 2010 @ 04:51 | Reply

      • A couple of years ago I wrote a post on the joys of being a skunk cabbage. I love them because when they want to grow in a crack in the sidewalk they don’t let anything get in their way. They push the concrete up if they need to. I used to use that image a lot if I ever felt stifled at work. I also had an image of being a ball. If compressed too much no problem. My power increased the more the external pressure. Sooner or later I would expand again, with force. I can’t remember the circumstances that caused me to feel that way, but I do remember the images. Thanks for the reminder.

        One of my favorite bits of poetry is by James Russell Lowell,

        Every clod feels a stir of might,
        And instinct within it that reaches and towers,
        And, groping blindly above it for light,
        Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers.

        I’m happy being a little clod.

        I’m glad you could start the new year off with hugs. My husband isn’t a hugger so I’m off to get my teddy bear. 😉

        Comment by Cheerful Monk — January 1, 2010 @ 05:33 | Reply

  6. Yes, I know, Bike Hike Babe, you do look great in silver. Naturally, I am an autumn. So we’d make a perfect foil for each other.

    Apparently those auburn will never go white, grey or anything remotely different to what they are now. It’s highly irritating to me. I like change. And had hoped to pale at some point in my life. Mind you, as you say, it would involve rethinking one’s wardrobe at considerable cost.

    U

    Comment by bitchontheblog — January 1, 2010 @ 03:21 | Reply

    • We used to wear the colors that were “in”. The “earth tones” were in the longest. Everyone was suppose to have the little black dress for dress-up. We were (jerked around) told how short or long our skirts were suppose to be. Up/down, up/down. — We don’t take that anymore.

      Reminds me. I was on a hike & saw a truck with a big sticker that said, “I’m madder than Hell & I’m not going to take it anymore.” There was a gun rack & it was empty. That was a very short hike.

      Comment by bikehikebabe — January 1, 2010 @ 04:56 | Reply

      • Bike Hike Babe, the days of earth tones you refer to I suppose were the peace sign ones of the late sixties to mid seventies. As to the length of hemlines: They sure did go up and down like a yo yo and we prescribed to it. Needless to say that my claim to fame were several quotes in the school’s magazine (written by students) that Ursula made teachers and students blush. Well, SORRY, blame my mother. She bought me all those short skirts, even two pairs of hot pants – you can’t go more indecent whilst still dressed than those. Oh God, you have now sent me back on a trip back memory lane. Of course my mother was scandalised that they were called ‘hot pants’. She said: In my day they were called ‘shorts’. And, of course, that’s what they were: Short. Very.

        Your reference to the little black dress: I have worn LONG black dresses which in combination with my very pale skin made me look like a very convincing Goth. I’ve never subscribed to the little cocktail number (was it Coco Chanel who, in inverted commas, invented it?). Since we were on colour spectrums earlier on: Black doesn’t suit me unless spiced up with a lot of colour.

        As you say, times have changed. Now it’s not any longer about fashion but style. And style is an art not to be bought off the rail. To be continued …

        Bike Hike Babe your surroundings worry me sometimes. However, never fear. Anyone who has time to print a sticker and then, of all things, STICK it somewhere has no inclination to kill himself or other people. Still, and I have to hand to you, it [the sticker] served as a nice excuse to cut the hike short and return to the home fire.

        U

        Comment by bitchontheblog — January 1, 2010 @ 05:29 | Reply


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