Bitch on the Blog

March 28, 2017

Rope

Filed under: Communication,Exasperation,Roadkill — bitchontheblog @ 19:31
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Ask me a complicated question. Nullo problemo. I will bullshit my way out with the best of Seneca and Socrates at the frontier. Wittgenstein if you can’t take a hint.

Ask me a simple question. Multo problemos.

When I say simple I don’t mean: “Does my bum look BIG in this?” If you have to ask me you know the answer without compromising my good manners. So stop it and go back to the changing room.

However, I will, from time to time, find myself be thrown to the dogs when someone asks me whether I like something (on them) or a poem they wrote. A shit drawing they drew.  Photos – smartphone – prevalent in blogland. It’s complicated (multo – on many levels). No one can accuse me of being backward in coming forward. However, there are limits. Even for me. I don’t want to deflate anyone’s balloon.

If there weren’t a place called Dodge City already I’d start putting down the foundations right now. Probably in Texas. Or Colorado. Or Kentucky. Or wherever they will tolerate me – no questions asked. Mexico. I can scale walls if need be. Ace of spades. A trump, nay, a death card if ever there was one.

Yes, so how do you tell someone who asks you whether you “like” it? Doesn’t matter what “it” is. All that matters is that you already know that THEY “like” it. And want your affirmation.

Good luck. Those are the moments you wish Clint Eastwood were there to shoot the noose before it tightens.

U

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12 Comments »

  1. LIke answering questions like this: Not really my cup of tea…. well that’s one way…

    Comment by magpie11 — March 28, 2017 @ 20:38 | Reply

    • Depends who you are dealing with. “It’s not my cup of tea” is so lukewarm even the self obsessed will notice your reaction lacking a considerable amount of enthusiasm.

      Anyway, come to think of it, that is so English “not my cup of tea”. It’s why I love Hercule Poirot (David Suchet). He’d just raise an eyebrow, look at you with benevolent puzzlement: “Bon, mon ami”. Whilst noting that it is indeed your soupcon of espresso that bears the poison.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 29, 2017 @ 12:52 | Reply

  2. I always respond: The only important question right now is: how you like it or if pressed: Not my style (cut, car, wevs) but hell if you like it, go for it.
    XO
    WWW

    Comment by wisewebwoman — March 29, 2017 @ 00:00 | Reply

    • Yes, WWW, but saying “it’s not my style” doesn’t help the questioner. It’s THEIR style (if at all) and the only reason they ask YOU is because they themselves are either not sure or, worst case scenario, they are of the needy variety who have no confidence in themselves. That is the moment you need to be careful. A bit like a midwife coaxing them convincingly to realizing that indeed – and naturally their very own decision – it’s not for them after all.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 29, 2017 @ 12:56 | Reply

  3. i have people in my life who absolutely hate “something”my elderly sister is a prime example – not that I’ve taken any notice because frankly if I want really short, short hair cut (actually it’s a buzz cut) then I shall 🙂 – she thinks because when it’s longer – it’s lush and thick (fast growing as well) – but what she doesn’t understand that equates to a long drying time, and in the summer well it’s a mane I don’t need…

    that’s where opinions can get one into trouble – even if unintentional (this isn’t btw, sister has many stupid opinions, not just hair…)

    sometimes the results for the opinionated – is they discover that other person drifts away because it becomes difficult etc (since the Xmas problem with her, not to do with hair) I haven’t spoken to her!! or seen her…

    Comment by cedar51 — March 29, 2017 @ 02:18 | Reply

    • Sisters have been a sore subject with me for the last few years. I have two. TWO – one day I’ll ask my mother why she thought it necessary to make sure I don’t run out of their histrionics keeping me not very amused.

      You mention hair. Hair is the devil. There is only person to ask their opinion on hair and it’s the best (and most likely most expensive) hairdresser you can find. Why? Because they don’t care what you look like. What they care about is that you look great – a walking talking advertisement walking out of their salon. You know “word of mouth”, running into friends: “Oh, my gosh, you look great. WHO is YOUR hairdresser?” Ding ding rings the till. To be fair, like any good crafts(wo)man, they do have their professional pride to get it right.

      Anyway, your hair sounds great. Short doesn’t suit my facial shape [square, strong chin]. Instead I need to be “layered”. And that’s an art. I sometimes wonder what I’d look like with a clean shaven skull. Though stopped when a friend of mine (cancer at the tender age of fifty) told me two things: “Don’t be ridiculous” and “Can you please be careful not to rip my wig off” (I was hugging her rather too enthusiastically) .

      Keep up your good spirits.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 29, 2017 @ 13:12 | Reply

  4. No, but there have been times when I have had to shoot the noose before it tightens on Clint Eastwood clones.

    Comment by rummuser — March 29, 2017 @ 12:27 | Reply

    • I can imagine, my dear Ramana. I can imagine you so very well doing just that. Thanks for making me laugh on and despite this rather unfortunate Wednesday afternoon.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 29, 2017 @ 13:14 | Reply

  5. Surely it all depends how well you know the person. If you hardly know them, you have to be diplomatic and thus complimentary. If you know them very well, you can probably get away with being honest.

    Comment by nick — March 29, 2017 @ 12:57 | Reply

    • No, Nick, never betray a stranger’s trust. If someone who has never clasped eyes on you asks you in the privacy of a shoe shop which shape you think would suit your feet best, you can, and should, be totally honest. They’ll thank you for it as much as I did some time ago when, for reasons not important, I wasn’t able to trust my glasses (basically I couldn’t see myself in the mirror). Strangers don’t have an agenda; strangers have nothing to lose by being honest. Naturally, being me, I asked THREE strangers passing in two minute intervals. As all three gave the same verdict (confirming my own hunch) I walked away happy.

      Someone baked to your heart? Different story. Now you have to consider their sensitivities. Enter egg shells.

      Mind you, I’d bet my bottom currency, and it’s a law of nature, that if someone is undecided (eye sight intact) they don’t really want/like “it” whatever “it” maybe. Or, of course, the more uncharitable truth, that they are unsure of themselves. In that case I do have a finely honed method of tapering my careful and considered midwifery till they themselves know the answer and, and that’s the most important part of it, think they have arrived at their decision all by themselves.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 29, 2017 @ 13:36 | Reply

  6. It slays me when a complete Stranger {ie: Customer} asks me which I like better when they’re picking out a Gift for someone THEY know!? WHAT! I just don’t understand it. It doesn’t matter what I like… I’m not the one buying it and I don’t even know whose going to be the recipient so why would my opinion even matter since they just met me when I walked up to Serve them?! Dawn… The Bohemian

    Comment by Bohemian Valhalla — March 30, 2017 @ 04:16 | Reply

    • Had to think about your comment, Dawn, before jumping in feet first. There is the question of taste. And taste can’t be bought. So, if anyone asks you for advice it’s to be taken as a compliment. Someone looks at you not as a loser who doesn’t know anything but as someone who too might buy a present for their aunt. But WHICH ONE? Other than that, to ask a stranger for advice is a useful ploy to start a conversation – even if you know perfectly well what you want.

      I once asked someone – with their ear phones firmly plugged in – for the time. We became friends.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 31, 2017 @ 20:30 | Reply


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