Tom Junod's "Opinions Of A Boner," ladies and gentlemen.
I'm just going to lie face-down on the dusty floor while I consider my options.
That was the intended take-away from this article, right? Because WELL DONE.
LW 1, your friends are being rude to you. Even as someone who rarely hesitates to ask a friend if it's convenient to stay with them because I'm almost always making the trip to see them: we're likely to stay up late on the sofa or the front steps, drinking wine and telling old stories and laughing ourselves sick. Their home, if they're comfortable opening it up to me, seems like the obvious place to do that, and if they do me the honor of letting me stay, I'm going to do everything in my power and budget to make it easy for them: doing small chores while they're on their way home from work, bringing in breakfast or cooking dinner, babysitting, walking the dog, buying groceries and wine and flowers and a little gift, being grateful for a room or a bed or sofa or an air mattress because the company, not the accommodation, is the point of the visit.
And if they say "Nope," I say "Thanks anyway!" and get on with planning the visit; when a friend of mine asks to stay with us, I feel similarly free to say "Sorry, this time doesn't work for us," and anyone who questions that is probably not going to get invited another time.
Even with my oldest, closest friends, I would never couch (ha!) my request as your friends are couching theirs: "you have the space" and "you let me once, why can't I now?" is presumptuous and pushy and putting you on the spot, and you never have to feel guilty for just repeating "That doesn't work for us."
In your shoes, I wouldn't make an excuse; in my experience, people who are willing to presume like that will also think that your excuse is an opening point for negotiating you out of your "no."
To be fair, that Cheez-Its thing is just a natural consequence of me buying Cheez-Its.
@Lucienne Not long after I commented, I thought "Yeeeah, but no, I'm not being fair about this." Your comment perfectly elucidates what was wrong with my original metaphor, thank you.
Dowd's essay is peevish and self-indulgent, but you make an excellent point about the range of choices available. I still think she should have taken some responsibility to ask or seek answers, to say "Hey, I'm entirely out of my depth here, what's appropriate?" But you're right that it isn't always easy to guess.
And that's one of the virtues of legal drugs: we can seek answers and ask questions without incriminating ourselves, and we can patronize responsible merchants who will take time to answer questions.
I tried to be patient with Dowd while reading that mewling anecdotal mess, but I lost that patience at this: candy bars like that are supposed to be cut into 16 pieces for novices; but that recommendation hadn’t been on the label.
Yes, and a bottle of scotch shouldn't be downed in one go by a novice drinker, either, yet SHOCKINGLY that information is not printed on the label. You're expected to have some sense of the appropriate serving, to have taken a moment to reckon out what you'd find most suitable, and generally to behave as if you have some personal responsibility in doling out intoxicants to yourself. If you don't have that adult sense of responsibility, at the least you could ask someone to babysit you.
"God, please let my behavior always meet the exacting standards of a male blogger who doesn't really understand how to use babble as a noun"
basically, ahahahaha FOREVER
I was about to go on my rant about how I wish Wikipedia offered an option to turn off images by default, then I stopped and thought "Huh… are you sure they don't? Did you ever check?" AND THEY TOTALLY DO, so I'm going to do that.
This will be so helpful, not just because I don't need to see botfly ravages or necrotizing fasciitis when I hit "random entry" but also because one of my long-term writing projects requires me to research a thing about which I am phobic, and now I'll be able to read about it without also implanting images into my imagination.
to chug a monstrosity called a “Forty Ounce Beer.” She chugged three in a row
I made all the appalled emoticon faces, right in a row, upon reading this.
and so on.
ahahahahahahaha the picture of Jane teetering off the edge of the treadmill ahahahahahahahaha you two broke me im broken now