Essa Alroc's Blog, page 26

Dealing With Scammer A-Holes in Freelancing

If you’ve been following my tips and tricks on freelancing, then you’ve seen my articles on how to land clients and how to start your own freelancing business. At the same time, I hope you’ve been paying attention to how to avoid a scam.

If not, it’s time for Essa’s tutorial on DMCA and how to keep from getting your work stolen.

Unfortunately, there are scammers out there who are only trying to collect as many articles as possible so they can resell them or use them without paying. Let me explain to you how they do this, because these requests will actually appear perfectly legitimate.

Generally, the scammer will request a test job. A test job is not the same as a free sample. Instead, it’s a common, legitimate request when starting with a long term client. If the article is accepted, the client will pay for the rights to use it and you’ll begin a relationship.

In one of these scam instances, they will request the test job. Then, after you submit the article, they will just disappear. Sometimes, they’re just a normal client who is too busy to respond. A follow up email will usually get a response with a yes or a no from a non-scammer.

However, if they delay or start making excuses as to why they have not made a decision, chances are you’re dealing with a scammer.

Let’s be honest. Most of the articles you will write for test jobs are going to be around 500 words. If they can’t read an article of 500 words in under two weeks and make a decision, chances are they are planning on stealing it. Don’t let them.

The easiest thing to do is send an email withdrawing your application and asserting your copyright. Resist the urge to tell them to go fuck themselves. Regardless of how tempting it may be, after you’ve wasted hours of your valuable time writing for them, be a professional. You can never truly tell if someone is scamming you, or if they are simply an unresponsive client. Regardless, you don’t want to work with them. Scammers for obvious reasons and unresponsive clients because getting them to pay you is damn near impossible.

Just send an email thanking them for their consideration, but state ‘due to time constraints’ (or whatever cliched phrase you want to use) you will be unable to work with them. Then, make sure to add this sentence or something similar.

“I also assert all rights in articles submitted for consideration and not purchased per standard copyright law.”

To a non-scammer, this sentence simply tells them that you’re keeping the article for your future use. To a scammer, it tells them “I’m watching you. Don’t fuck with me.”

Standard copyright law isn’t complicated. You don’t need to register anything and you don’t need to file any legal forms. Simply stated, once you write something, you own it until you sell the rights to it. Never agree to transfer of copyright prior to payment. As long as you can show proof, either through a word doc or emails, that you wrote it first and that the copyright wasn’t purchased, you’re safe unless you have to take it to court.

Trust me, you won’t have to take it to court. There is a simple law out there to protect you and it’s scarier than any courtroom. It is the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, aka, the DMCA.

After your close call with a scammer, sell your article to someone else ASAP. It’s much harder to steal something if it’s already posted online. Usually, scammers will sit on these stolen articles hoping that you forget about them. Before you sell it, check to make sure it hasn’t been posted by searching one phrase from your article on the internet, or checking the scammers website.

If you find your article posted somewhere, you need to act. First, use the contact form on the website to send a polite message reminding them that you own the article and requesting that they remove it immediately. Give them a limited timeframe to respond. Every second they’re posting your stolen article is a second they’re making money on your stolen article. In the past, I’ve given anywhere from 24 hours to 1 week, based on how likely I thought it was a scam over an innocent mistake.

If you don’t get a response, then it’s time to get aggressive. Find a formal DMCA notice of copyright infringement. Send a copy to them. Send a copy to their hosting provider and send a copy to any advertising partners listed on the site. Advertisers are making money off your scammers copyright infringement as well, so they are guilty by association. Ironically, they are usually the first people to do something about it. Generally, they’ll pull their ads and end their affiliation with the scammer.

Here’s where the DMCA gets scarier than a courtroom. Once you have sent proof of your copyright and the right DMCA form, the web host will either remove the content themselves or ask that the site owner remove the content. If the site owner refuses to remove the copyright material, or doesn’t respond, the hosting provider will shut the entire site down.

Not only will your scammer get their page shut down, if they do get it back up after removing the copyright material, they will also get a black mark on their Google record as a copyright violator. Any website with multiple DMCA notices gets tanked in the Google rankings. As their goal in stealing your material in the first place is to get an increased site rank, you just hit them where it hurt. Well done.

It is getting harder and harder for these scammers to swipe content. Thanks to that, those of us trying to make a reputable living doing this have a better chance of doing so. Never let someone make money off your work when they haven’t paid you for it. Instead, know your rights when it comes to your material.

And above all, know when to be an asshole.

Women In Combat – Essa Disagrees With Everyone Again

A few days back I deleted a comment from my “Manosphere” blog. To the guy who left the comment, know that I in no way thought your comment was inflammatory or hate mail related. You actually made some reasonable points.

They just really didn’t have anything to do with the article. I mean, really? It was an article about dating. I made one off-hand, half assed comment out ‘believing in women in combat’ and you typed a twelve paragraph reply. It really didn’t have anything to do with the article, so I deleted it. If you’d like to repost it on this article, feel free. You actually made some good points.

Good points that I am going to crush with my mad, mad lyrical skills.

Yup, I believe any women who is qualified should be allowed into any position she desires in the military. I’ve been in. I know how shit works and I know what I saw. What I saw was a ton of women who out performed men on every front, including athletic.

Lots of people like to bring that argument up first. “Men are just plain stronger than women”. Then they point out statistics and make sweeping generalized statements. I think we all know how much I hate sweeping generalized statements. Heres the thing, when you base it on statistics, yes, men are stronger than women.

Statistics don’t lie…but only lairs use statistics.

According to statistics, men are taller than women. From my own personal viewpoint, I come at least eye to eye, or tower over most of the men I know. I’m only 5’5”.

My point in bringing this up is when you make generalized statements, the numbers get skewed. Yeah, I couldn’t block a pass from Allen Iverson, but I would wreck Zach Galifianakis in a fight. Physical prowess needs to be decided on a case by case basis, not on a bunch of skewed statistics based on what someone has between their legs.

The military has a lot of tests for physical stamina and ability. As long as men and women take the exact same tests when it comes to these combat jobs, then this argument is completely moot. That of course, it my point of contention. I do not want to see the military come up with different tests for each gender and give women a break. If they are going to do the same job, then they need to pass the same tests.

The bigger argument people against women in combat point out is the psychological viewpoint. Again, this is based on tests and studies that indicate men on a battlefield are more likely to help a hopelessly injured female soldier than help out a less injured male soldier. I disagree on this viewpoint for several reasons.

There’s a reason men hold the door for me when I’m dressed up, but let it slam in my face when I’m wearing sweatpants. The phycological thing only kicks in when someone actually looks female. The military spends a lot of time and a lot of money making their soldiers as gender generic as possible. Take a look at the picture below, taken about ten years ago. I’m the one in the middle who looks like an overly tanned turtle. Now go ahead and tell me how feminine I look.

This male/female heroism is something I have never seen first hand. When I sprained my ankle on a run, it wasn’t a bunch of men who came to my aid. They didn’t want to fuck up their run time. Instead, it was my female team leader who carried me more than half a mile to the medic.

And she didn’t even break a sweat when she was doing it.

You know how these psychological tests are done? They ask the man questions, meaning that he can lie so he won’t look unheroic.

In addition, these guys in Special Ops are heavily trained and taught to ignore certain instincts. If they can be taught to ignore the need to eat, sleep and pee, I’m pretty sure they can be taught to not play Hee-Man whenever a woman is injured. Special ops soldiers are regularly forced to ignore the suffering of civilians in the countries they work in so they won’t jeopardize the mission. Why wound’t they be able to ignore the suffering of a female team member if it meant jeopardizing the mission?

Yes, I believe in women in combat and I think the ideas that kept them out were old fashioned and outdated. I am very glad that the military decided to get rid of those restrictions and allow women to apply for the jobs they want, rather then the ones deemed appropriate for their gender.

The secondary MOS of every single soldier in the military is infantry. We were all taught that in basic training. If that’s the case, then I see no reason that a women’s first MOS can’t be infantry as well.

An Open Letter to the Gas Station Parking Lot Salesman

Dear Guy Peddling Cans of Chrome Polish Outside of the Ghetto Gas Station,

I started out politely. When you tried to peddle your crap to me, I responded “no, good sir, I do not wish to buy a $30 can of chrome polish from a man in the parking lot of the gas station. In fact, correct me if I’m wrong, but I am almost 100% sure my vehicle doesn’t even have chrome on it.”

That was the first time I went to the gas station and saw you in the parking lot. You’d set up a folding table and covered it in expensive cans of chrome polish. You were practicing the hard sell on everyone who drove into the parking lot. Walking up as people gassed up their cars, excited over your captive audience. You would spray your magic snake oil on their car and give a demonstration, leaving one clean spot, glaringly obvious, shining from the center of the hood.

This is the gas station I go to everyday, sometimes multiple times a day. And everyday, I’m forced to hear your sales pitch as I race by, head down, avoiding eye contact.

“Miss, excuse me, miss…Have you tried out this product? Customers have told me it works at least as well as spraying your car down with butter flavored Pam.”

“No thank you.”

The next day. “Miss, excuse me, miss…”

“No.”

The next day. “Miss, excuse me, miss…”

Am I that unmemorable, chrome polish guy? Do you somehow think that I am going to suddenly change my mind, even after I’ve been telling you no every day for the last six months. Chrome guy, I want you to take a close look at my car. See that streak of white on the door? That’s vomit…and it’s been there since September.

Now, do you really think I am the kind of person who is going to spend $30 on a can of spray on silicone to shine my hubcaps? I can’t even be bothered to run my car through a $5 carwash.

Look, chrome guy, you’re in the ghetto. Thats why everyone calls this place ‘the ghetto gas station’. That’s why everyone you see arriving is walking. There is not a car in the parking lot that was made after 1991. No one is spending $30 on chrome polish. Might I suggest you switch to something more marketable in this part of town. Like meth?

Look, I know you have a job to do and I know that your pay is commission based only…but that’s not my problem. My problem is you keep annoying me with the same aggressive sales pitch every goddamn day. So in the future, when you see me pull up in my filthy vomit covered car, please just walk on by. I’m never going to say yes and I’m never going to be a customer. The best you can hope for from me is that I don’t just eventually snap and beat you to death with my tire iron.

Sincerely,

Essa Alroc, Proud Owner of a Filthy Chevy Cobalt

Friday’s Featured Blogger – Jeff Peters of Change for a Year

Subject – Jeff Peters of Change for a Year

Location – A Gym in Wisconsin

My mémère had a saying; “Horses sweat, men perspire, women merely glow.”

If that’s the case, I’m glowing like a neon sign. I find myself in an alien environment. Everyone around me is sweating and grunting like they are in pain. Their faces are red and they are all grimacing. No one looks happy, but the weird thing is, they are here voluntarily. Hell, they pay to be here.

I’ll never understand people who go to the gym.

I turn my head slightly and seen the man I came to interview. Jeff is gliding effortlessly on a treadmill. He makes exercising look easy, even graceful.

I stumble off the StairMaster I just spent the last 4 minutes on, gasping uncontrollably. I trudge to something that looks like a Medieval torture device and collapse on top of it. Jeff finally notices me.

“You know you’re on that thing backwards, right?” He’s not even gasping as he speaks.

I try to fake it. “Yeah, I know.” I give the machine I’m sitting on a skeptical glare. “I’m just used to the one at my gym. It’s a, um, different model. A, ah…” I search for any model of gym equipment I can think of and come up empty. “ A C3PO,” I finally finish triumphantly.

“Isn’t that a robot from Star Wars?” Jeff, crazy bastard that he is, continues to run as he speaks to me.

I sigh helplessly. My complete lack of athleticism has been found out. I shoot for a subject change. “You ready for your interview?”

Jeff cranks the treadmill up to an incline comparable to the one at Everest and winks at me. “Sure am.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out my tape recorder.

***

Tell us about your blog, Change for a Year. What’s your goal for it? What inspired you to write it?

I think I had an early midlife crisis. I was sitting around watching some Kardashian bullshit on TV, weighing almost 400 pounds and working all the time. I thought to myself, “How fucking stupid is this,” and decided to make a change. I started my blog and decided to pick a new adventure every year. The first thing I wanted to do was lose some weight and get healthy, so I picked the opposite end of the spectrum and decided to go vegan for a year (no animal products at all). It’s only been three months, but I love it and dropped 40 pounds so far. I’ve got a ton of other yearly challenges for myself. I can’t wait to try them all.

You recently decided to quit your job despite having worked for years to make it to the position you were in. Why did you do it and what are you planning for the future?

I was a manager for a couple of group homes for disabled adults. I’d spent my drunken days in Florida and came home broke to live in my parent’s basement with nothing to my name. I worked pretty hard the past few years to get back on my feet and become an adult with a real job and with real benefits. But it was mind-numbing. I’ve wanted to write since I was kid, so I’m officially stepping down next month and going to work at freelance writing. That’ll be another adventure. It all started with the blog. I realized I’d rather be broke and practically homeless if it meant I could be happy and write. So that’s what I’m doing. I even got my first recurring gig on Elance based on the weekly column I started writing, “This Week in Vegan News.”

Tell us about your fiction writing, including your short stories.

It’s awful. I wrote half of a novel once when I was sixteen. I was deep into Dean Koontz and Steven King, and I wrote the most awful piece-of-shit you can imagine. The other day my computer crashed and I lost everything on it. Thank God for that. I got to start fresh. That’s why I turned to journalism in college. I love it. There’s nothing more satisfying than spending a few days collecting interviews and statistics and stories and then trying to piece them all into something that works.

Fiction is hard. Things like personal essays are easy. One off my college professors read an essay I wrote out loud to the class once, and they were amazed. She encouraged me to go into journalism, and I’ll always thank her for that. An essay I wrote on my dreams was also freshly pressed. I’d been blogging less than a month when that happened, so it was pretty exciting. But that’s all self-indulgent crap and easy to do compared to fiction. Fiction on the other hand is painful and awful and makes me hate myself because I’m so bad at it. I’ve become fascinated with List Stories. I first came across them at LittleFiction.com. I tried writing a murder mystery based only on a detective’s notebook for their last collection. I like the idea of being able to say so much in so few words. That’s why I love short stories. Hell, I can write a list story in a day or two. So if it’s god-awful I can just shrug off as an afternoon. A novel can take years. When I interviewed Patrick Rothfuss he told me he spent ten years writing, “The Name of the Wind.” I really admire fiction writers. Right now I have just one fiction story on my blog–a story called “Angel.” It’s really more of a scene, but I’ve gotten good feedback on it. I hope to add a few more this year.

You decided to go Vegan. What was your motivation? How hard was it and what do you miss the most about being a carnivore?

Being vegan is easy. Everyone thinks it’s impossible. The other day I was bowling with my friends and ordered a vegan calzone. The cook comes out completely dumbfounded, “You don’t want cheese in your calzone?” Yeah, I said. “Just veggies and bread?” he asked. And some sauce, please. It was fucking delicious. It’s amazing how cheese and milk are in almost every single thing you eat. You can’t even buy a loaf of bread with finding milk and honey and all this other crap in there. It’s fascinating once you look into it. No one believes me when I say this, but I really do not miss anything. I still eat black bean burgers and taco salads and burritos and pizza. Hell, I eat more pizza now than before. I do miss being able to walk into a restaurant and order anything off the menu. I try so hard not to be the stereotypical vegan douche I’d always pictured in my head. It helps being over 300 pounds and looking like a grizzly bear. The other day I finally accepted what I am and wrote a blog, “On Becoming a Vegan, Hippie, Liberal Douche.”

If you had to choose an eating disorder of some type to lose weight, which one would you choose and why?

I once saw a huge guy–I’m talking like 500 pounds–wearing a shirt that said, “I beat anorexia.” I still laugh about that. I have always thought about becoming a drug addict. A lot of people are addicted to food. I just found out they have Overeaters Anonymous groups just like Alcoholics Anonymous. Have you ever seen a fat person strung out on meth or heroin? No. Meth-heads are not fat. I figure a good six-month meth binge would be the best weight-loss plan out there. Hell, I could write a book and get rich, “How to lose weight and everything else (including you teeth!) in six months.” I’ve never had the balls to do hard drugs. Years ago I had to guess what one of our friends had done the night before. “Cocaine,” he said. People are fucking stupid. I’m not against drugs. I’m just going to wait. If I make it to 80 I plan on having a total bender and going out in style.

Is running as terrible as it sounds?

Yeah, pretty much. It’s awful. You can’t breathe. You sweat. You smell. Your legs hurt. Your chest is pounding. I got into running a few years ago. Something kind of amazing happens after awhile though. Eventually, you get used to running. I got to the point where I’d jog 3-4 miles every morning and it was peaceful. I’d run in the winter at like 5 a.m. The whole town was asleep, and I’d run right down the middle of the road. The air was cool and my feet crunched on the snow as I took in the silent world. I remember thinking this is how our bodies are supposed to work. Then I got really fat again. I just ordered some running shoes and imagined having that same feeling, even years later and 60 pounds heavier. I went for my first run. It was fucking awful. There was no bliss. I wrote about it in “Thoughts of a Fat Man During His First Run.”

You can bring one person back to life and ask one question. Who do you bring back and what do you ask?

I’d go for the king of all celebrities, Jesus, and demand he perform a miracle. Religion fascinates me. Or why people are religious. I know many religious people who are truly exceptional. But I’ve seen plenty who are full of hate as well. It’s amazing how much hate and horror can come from people using religion. I mean “God Hates Fags” Really? It’s one thing to believe that, another entirely to take time out of life to actively hate and make people miserable. I can just imagine that asshole asking his boss for a vacation day and going to Kinko’s and sitting at home with his poster board and crayons and coordinating with the other crazies he found online so they didn’t get embarrassed by having the same hate-filled slogans on their signs.

Or maybe I’d ask if he could fix my entertainment center. It’s so hard to find a good carpenter these days.

What celebrity would you kill with your mind if you could?

I’ve had that damn James Blunt, “Your Beautiful,” song in my head for years. After five years it finally wiggled its way out of the back of my mind. Then I heard it yesterday, and it went right back to the center of my brain. But if I killed him the radio stations would go crazy like they did when Michael Jackson died and play his songs on repeat. I would lose my mind.

No matter who I killed I’d make sure it was public, and I’d declare myself one of the real life X-Men before I did it. Then no one would ever mess with me again.

You have a choice. You can eat whatever you want for the rest of your life, but you have to walk around with Steve Buscemi’s face. Would you do it?

Hell yes! Steve Buscemi is awesome. His face has got character. Plus I could pretend I was him and tell everyone I got killed by Tony Soprano. That would be awesome.

***

I put my tape recorder back into my pocket as we finish the interview. Jeff literally skips off the treadmill. My mémère would be proud of his glow. My ‘glow’, on the other hand, is dripping off my face and onto the floor.

“What are you up to now?” I ask as he takes a sip from his water bottle.

“Meeting my friends for lunch. Want to come?”

I perk up. Eating is definitely something I can do. “Where are you going?”

“This vegan place that serves low gluten, low sucrose, no fat, meat-free soy burgers.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. “Jeff, I have to tell you, that sounds like my idea of hell.”

If you want to check out Jeff’s blog, he can be found at Change for a Year.

The Manosphere – Finally, a Place for Retards to Hang Out!

If you’ve just come to this page to complain about my use of the word ‘retard’ suck it. Retard was actually a medically viable term related to poor brain development before it fell out of favor for being used as a slur. The men I’m talking about clearly have retarded mental development, so ‘retard’ is a medically accurate term.

Every few years, I see these idiot sites pop up. They are designed to tell men how to pick up women using ‘proven’ manipulation methods and genius ideas. They also usually tell how to dump the same women with no backlash whatsoever (I’m assuming this course is offered during the same semester as Unicorn Catching 101). They recycle the same ideas over and over again, putting them in different packages, hoping that desperate dudes will spend their hard earned money one their videos or books. FYI Guys who choose to spend your money on this crap: the only people about to get manipulated are you…by some smooth talking snake oil salesmen.

The tips are usually some bullshit scientific proof that men can manipulate women using one of more of the following methods;

Give her a backhanded compliment (i.e. You have really pretty eyes. Have you noticed that your left eye is bigger than your right?)
Talk to her friends instead.
Be aloof. Never answer her calls right away or at all.
Never officially break up with a girl. Instead, ‘backburner’ her by saying you’re going on a long vacation or being a dick so she’ll be forced to break up with you. That way, you can call her in the future and get booty calls.

Men, these methods will not help you pick up women. They will help you pick up a psycho with daddy issues. You could have accomplished the same thing, in half the time, buy buying the chick four shots of vodka. You are not a master manipulator. You’re preying on a not too bright chick with low self esteem.

Then, after manipulating their broken prey, they guys will justify their actions by bring up something about how women have been manipulating men for centuries, conveniently forgetting that until about 100 years ago, we were pretty much property. They do it to justify their douchebaggery.

“Hey they manipulated us first.”

Guys, I have to tell you, no, we haven’t been manipulating you. We’ve been making reasonable requests. Asking a man to shower regularly so his stink doesn’t turn your stomach isn’t manipulation, it’s basic hygiene. Asking a man to pick his socks up off the floor isn’t manipulation, it’s basic cleanliness that your mother should have taught you. Not wanting to have sex doesn’t mean we’re withholding sex to get something. It’s harder for women to orgasm than men. If we’re pissed off or unhappy, it makes an orgasm impossible and sometimes, it even makes sex uncomfortable. Maybe you want to consider working on the problem instead of trying to get our pants off? Just a suggestion.

You want to keep your girl? How about you clean yourself up and you don’t treat her like your maid. If you just want to run around sticking your dick into everything that doesn’t have leprosy, here’s the solution and you didn’t have to spend 9.95 on some retarded video to get it. Prostitution is perfectly legal in Nevada and the pros there don’t care if you never shower or refuse to pick your socks up.

Ladies, you need to be honest as well. Don’t tell a guy you’re into casual hook ups if you’re not really into casual hook ups. It’s perfectly OK to NOT be into casual hook ups and it’s perfectly ok to admit that. If some dude is going to shut you down when you tell him that, then he wasn’t the right guy for you anyway. If you want a serious relationship, be UP FRONT about it. Be honest. While there might be the occasional douchebag out there who will use that info against you, those guys are actually few and far between. Most of the guys I know are decent dudes who respond well to honesty.

Because honesty is the solution. It’s not about whose winning or whose losing. You shouldn’t been competing with your mate and sex should never be a competition unless the competition is ‘who can have the most orgasms’.

In case you’re wondering, I’m not some radical feminist. I believe in equality, not an unfair advantage. I believe in reasonable requests. By reasonable, I mean equal pay for equal work, not spending $20,000 to make contracts gender neutral or demanding female admission into “the men’s cockfighting and bitching about women” club. I believe in women in combat. I believe we should be allowed to do any job we are qualified for. I do not believe the rules should be bent for me just because I have a vagina.

I didn’t have a choice what gender I was born it, but I wouldn’t change it. I enjoy being a girl. But when I’m making decisions, I’m making them as a person. I’m not some random vagina to be manipulated with pick up lines or stupid bullshit you learned from a video. If you really want to get to know me, then get to fucking know me.

If you don’t want to get to know me, then Nevada is about 40 hours west. Tell Ginger I said hi.

Why Are You Still Single?

***WARNING TO FAMILY AND FRIENDS, THIS POST CONTAINS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT INFORMATION ABOUT ME THAT YOU WILL WISH YOU HAD NEVER KNOWN SHOULD YOU CONTINUE TO READ. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.***

“Why are you still single?”

I’ve gotten this question at least once a week since my tits came in.

If you’ve ever asked it before, don’t feel bad. I truly believe there is some deep down, biological urge for most people to ask a reasonably attractive, relatively intelligent woman why she is not paired up and producing more reasonably attractive, relatively intelligent babies. Let’s face it, the world is only getting stupider and we need all the intelligent people we can get.

However, in response to this question, I am going to borrow a quote from one of my characters who got the same question.

“I have a shitty personality and I’m not much to look at. Can we move on?” ~ Angelica Salvatori of Strangely Sober

When someone asks me ‘why are you still single’ I feel like they’re really asking me ‘what’s wrong with you?’ My answer? So many things…

Truth be told, the reason I’m still single is because I have yet to meet an attractive man that I could have a conversation with that did not make me want to shove a screwdriver in my ear. When I do meet a man who can banter, he is either not remotely attractive to me, or he is lousy in bed.

Let me break down the timeline of an Essa relationship for you.

Step 1 – The Attraction

I know I’ll probably get some people saying “honestly, I didn’t feel attracted to my husband/boyfriend at first but now, he’s my soul mate.” My answer? No he’s not. He’s the dude you settled for and the only reason you’re with him is because he was the best guy you thought you could get at the time. I am going to put money on the fact that you will be cheating on him within the next two years.

Ask any long term married couple, sexual attraction doesn’t grow; it declines. In the beginning, you’re attracted to a person, but over the years, as you get used to them, no matter how attractive they are, that pretty face means less. What you do develop is a level of comfort and contentment, not sexual attraction. I get comfort and contentment from chocolate and the movie ‘Serenity’. I don’t need it from my mate.

I dated a guy I wasn’t attracted to in the past. As funny and charming as he was, the second he put his hands on me or went in for a kiss, I felt a cold dread grow in my stomach. I eventually broke up with him in a horrible way and made him miserable. He wrote angst filled country songs that he slipped under my door for months. It was not a good time and I will never again date a guy I am not attracted to.

Step 2 – The Banter

Conversation is the most important thing in the world to me. I actually have a low attraction threshold, demanding that any guy I talk to be a minimum of a 6 (my own level of attractiveness). It’s not hard to be a six. Just wear nice clothes and go to the gym occasionally.

For conversation, you must be able to hold your end. There is nothing more exhausting than talking to someone who is not giving anything back. After a while, I just assume they are not interested and walk away. If I use a big word and you give me a blank look, I’m walking. If I mention an Eddie Murphy movie from the 80’s and you’ve never heard of it, I’m walking. Seriously, I have nothing to say to a person who can’t appreciate the comedic genius that is “Coming to America” or “Trading Places.”

Step 3 – The Sex Test

This is where the majority of contenders fail. Essa Alroc breaks a cardinal rule when it comes to dating. She sleeps with guys before she is in a relationship with them. Why?

Why the hell not? Why would I want to waste a bunch of time developing a relationship with someone, only later to learn that they are lousy in bed? I am 32 years old and I date guys in my age range. If they are lousy in bed by the time they reach this age range, then they require a level of instruction that I don’t feel like giving.

All the relationship experts out there say ‘wait until the third date’ or ‘wait until you’re in a monogamous relationship’. Here the thing ladies; if a guy is REALLY interested in you, then it’s not going to matter if you fuck him on date 1, or if you fuck him on date 37. He’ll stick around. If he’s only in it for sex, then he’ll walk away as soon as he gets in your pants, regardless of when he gets into them. I’d much prefer they walk away before I develop an attachment if that’s the case.

Most guys fail the sex test, but I can’t really blame them. Actually, I blame the women that were there before me. Ladies, another request? Please STOP FAKING ORGASMS! You are giving men positive reinforcement for doing something WRONG, which will train them to continue doing things WRONG.

Faked orgasms are the reason that guys continue to try the jackhammer or rectal fingering. It doesn’t feel good and I don’t like it, but some stupid bitch before me gave the idiot the idea that it felt great because she released a screaming, howling fake orgasm when he did it with her. Fake orgasms do women everywhere a disservice and need to be discontinued immediately.

So, there you have it. The reason I’m still single. The men I meet either aren’t attractive to me, lack the ability to carry on a conversation, or are terrible in bed. There is only one way this reasoning can be summed up, and it comes in the most overused cliché possible, with a slight twist.

Men of America, it’s not me…it’s you.

The Fashion Deterioration

There was a time in my life when I put an actual effort into what I looked like. I would get up early just to fix my hair. I’d put on eyeliner and lipstick. I’d do my nails. I would only wash my face with a special, vitamin C based exfoliating cleanser that I got at my dermatologists office.

This morning, I washed my face with Vagisil. Hey, its soap, right?

My prep time in to morning used to be a 45 minute process that involved expensive undergarments, hair product, hair straightening, teeth whitening, nail polishing, upper lip waxing, eyebrow waxing, makeup, perfume and four inch heels.

It has now deteriorated into a 30 second procedure where I roll out of my bed in whatever I’m wearing and land in my computer chair. I consider it a good day if I’m actually wearing pants.

There was a time I wouldn’t answer the door looking like this. In high school, the idea of showering after gym class made me panic as I knew wouldn’t have the time to repair my extensive makeup job. I actually planned my class schedule around it so I could go to gym last period of the day, so no one would see my makeup free face.

This morning, I went to the post office in a velour tracksuit with clearly visible sweat stains under my armpits. FYI, it takes a lot of effort to sweat through velour.

The last time I used lipstick was to sign a petition outside of a Publix.

It’s amazing how time changes priorities isn’t it? There was a time in my life where being pretty was the most important thing in the world for me. My days were spent focused on make-up tips and scouring the most recent issue of Cosmo so I could compare myself to the models. Was she prettier than me? Was she?

I don’t remember when it all changed. It was gradual. One day, I’d do the makeup and the clothes, the ridiculously painful shoes, but I’d shove my hair back into a ponytail. My hairdryer grew a layer of dust and my hair gel congealed into a rock hard mass with the same approximate Mohs scale density as diamond.

Then my allergies acted up and the makeup went. Most of it still sits on my barely used vanity table, the oil having permanently risen to the top of the bottle. It has all changed to this orange/yellow color that in no way resembles any human skin tone seen outside ‘The Simpsons’ or ‘Jersey Shore’.

The hair and makeup were gone, but I still had the clothes.

Then I cut my foot and gave up heels for flip flops. When the cut healed, I never went back. When I was shown the door in corporate America, the skirts and the nice pants went too.

Then I stopped even doing jeans. I literally live in an array of unfashionable sweatpants and leggings (clearly, I mean I still own velour). I have left the house on more than once occasion wearing two different shoes…on purpose. It just seemed easier than looking for two shoes that matched.

Then this morning, I reached an all time low and washed my face with Vagisil.

I used to enjoy getting dressed up. It wasn’t a burden to me. It was fun. I liked the transformation. I liked watching myself get better looking as I added makeup and hair. I liked the clothes. I liked the shoes. Even the highest of high heels didn’t bother me. I swore to everyone I knew that I could run a mile in my cheap four inch stilettos.

I never made into the Manolo Blahnik’s, as seen in “Sex in the City’. Regardless of my obsession with my looks, I could never truly understand the fucktardness of spending $400 on a pair of shoes.

I can’t really pinpoint the day I lost interest. Was it the day that I wondered who I was dressing up for? Was it the day I realized that what I really wanted from life was to write, and that it doesn’t matter what you look like when you write?

Was it the day this picture was taken?

I know you think I’m going to say ‘it was the near death experience that helped adjust my priorities.’

Nope, not at all. It’s that, when I look at that picture, instead of seeing the cyst caused by MRSA above my eyes, I see my eyes and go ‘wow, my eyes are a pretty color’. It was that day when I realized I was so narcissistic that I could see a picture of myself looking like that and still think I’m hot.

After that, what’s the point of getting dressed up anymore? If you can see a picture of yourself looking like that and still think you’re beautiful, then you really don’t need four inch heels.

So let my hair gel congeal and let my makeup settle into a pile of oil. My heels are in a disorganized pile in my closet. I haven’t put anything on that requires ironing in months.

And I’ve never been happier.

Friday’s Featured Blogger – A.J. Goode of A Good One

Subject – A.J. Goode of A Good One

Location – some bushes outside a townhouse in London, England

 

I crouch down on the ground, being sure to stay out of sight as A.J. and I go through the inventory for tonight’s adventure. She picks up a carton of eggs and pops it open to make sure we have a full dozen.

“I have to say, I was skeptical when you wanted to come all the way to England to do my interview, but now, I’m pretty sure this is the best interview ever!”

I check my duffel bag and count out the rolls of toilet paper. Another even dozen. We are going to destroy this bitch’s house. “I know,” I peer up at a window on the second floor. “Now we just have to wait for her to go to sleep.”

A.J. snorts. “She’ll probably be up all night, stealing characters from other writer’s novels and turning them into pornographic caricatures for one of her alleged ‘books’.”

I can only hope she’s wrong. I didn’t come all the way to England just to crouch in E.L. James’ bushes. I have vandalism planned. Sure, it’s immature, but so am I. I let out a whoosh of air as the light in the upstairs room goes off. The half assed hack has finally gone to bed.

A.J. stands up, egg in hand, ready to launch her attack. Suddenly, I notice movement next to a Mercedes parked in the driveway. I grab A.J. by the wrist and yank her back down into the bushes.

“Shit, someone is here.” I focus on the car and try to see what’s going on. A figure, all in black, is squatted next to one of the rear tires. She looks oddly familiar.

A.J. recognizes her too. “Is that Stephenie Meyer?”

“Yeah, what the hell is she doing here?” I stand and walk over to her. “Stephenie Meyer?”

She spins around, looking guilty and I notice she has an air cap in her hand. “That’s me.”

“What are you doing here?” A.J. has joined us.

She looks down at the cap in her hand. “I come here once a week to let all the air out of E.L. James’ tires. What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re here to vandalize her house, and also to do a featured blogger interview.”  I tug on A.J.’s arm, “We’ll let you get back to work.”

A.J. and I return to the bushes and pick up our supplies. She takes an egg out of the carton and launches it in a beautiful overhand throw that splatters all over the front door. “Damn, that was satisfying.”

I nod in agreement and pull out my tape recorder.

***

Tell us about your site, A Good One. What inspired you to write it? What are your goals with it?

I started blogging as a way of getting into the habit of writing every day. It’s sort of a mixed bag of ideas and stories on topics that include parenting, writing, and dealing with ADHD, Depression, and chronic pain – without being a journal about self-pity and whining.   I’m trying to convey the idea that there is always hope, that things can always get better.

Initially, I was inspired by a horrible little troll who uses her blog here to slander some of my friends on another site.  When I saw how she hurt people by doing the wrong thing with her words, I felt inspired to start a blog that could do the right thing with mine.  I want to use my blog to lift others up, not tear them down.

I hope that writing this bog will help me hone my writing skills and habits.  I’d like to make a few people laugh or smile or at least relate to something I write.  Overall, it’s about accountability. If I’m going to call myself a writer, and blog about trying to be a writer, then I have to write.  I have to follow through.

What writing projects are you working on right now? 

I am working on a novel that is tentatively called “Her House Divided”.  It’s a romantic fiction about a woman rebuilding her life after a devastating injury, and a man who would do anything to preserve the historic waterfront property they have inherited together.   The opening chapters took third place in the Series Contemporary category of this year’s Launching a Star competition.

I also have a short story called “A Walk In The Woods” that may have to become a YA novel because it just keeps growing.  It has become one of those projects that I don’t even enjoy anymore but I can’t seem to walk away from it.  It’s about the disappearance of a child in a very small town, told from the point of view of a teen who is related to the main suspect.

How much booze does it take you to write a sex scene? What’s your drink of choice? 

I have a real weakness for hard cider and German wines, although there’s nothing like an ice-cold Coors on a hot day.  Whichever one I choose, I have to drink just enough to feel all warm and friendly, but not enough to get silly.  Otherwise, my characters end up doing inexplicable things that have nothing to do with sex, and I just have to sober up and rewrite everything.

Does the popularity of 50 Shade of Gray make you lose faith in humanity too? 

Ugh.  I don’t understand why people are gobbling up those books.  They are badly written, with poorly-defined and unbelievable characters, and the sex scenes aren’t the least bit of a turn-on.  Honestly, it feels like something that was written by a virgin with rape fantasies and lots of batteries.

You know, I actually remember it when it was a “Twilight” fanfiction called “Master of the Universe”.  It broke so many rules of Fanfiction.Net, but she was one of those arrogant butthurts who thought she was above the rules because she was just so damn special.  Because of her and the negative attention she brought down on the site, Fanfction.Net had to redefine their M and MA ratings and step up enforcement, which has led to the deletion of thousands of stories.

You were diagnosed with ADHD. Have you always had it, or was it adult onset. How do you deal with it?

I was diagnosed with ADHD shortly after the birth of my second child,   I’ve tried everything from Ritalin to Stratterra to Adderall, but now I’m just trying to manage it with life skills I’ve had to learn.  Lots of to-do-lists, lots of routines, lots of planning.   I’ve learned a lot from Martha Cilley’s book “Sink Reflections” and her website Flylady.Net.  She’s dangerously perky. But the organizational tips have been life-saving for me.

Although my house was MUCH cleaner when I had my Adderall.  Good stuff.

Same question, insert depression.  

The Depression diagnosis is fairly new, although I think I’ve probably had bouts of it my entire life.  I’m in therapy twice a month, and we’re still figuring out whether to go the medication route or not.  Right now, I pretty much deal with it by writing about it and trying to spend time with people who raise me up.

You can bring back one person from the dead to ask them one question. Who do you bring back and what do you ask?

Laura Ingalls Wilder.  “Who really wrote your books, you or your daughter?”

You used to work as a cosmetologist. Did you ever have a major screw up, like you shaved a bad spot into their head or waxed off an eyebrow. Tell us about it.

In beauty school, I gave a perm to a woman who had used Sun-In on her hair.  When the perm solution hit the Sun-In, the chemical reaction literally melted the hair.  I took off the processing cap and a bunch of perm rods hit the floor, with hair still wrapped around them.  Legally, it wasn’t my fault because the client had lied about the products in her hair, but I was so upset I threw up for days.

Lesson learned:  Never lie to your hairdresser.  Ever.

What’s your guilty pleasure?

Brach’s Double-Dippers.  Those, and my unfortunate addiction to fanfiction and the early music of R.E.M.

The quote you want on your tombstone? 

The same one that’s on my father’s:  Humor is God’s Gift.

***

I put away my tape recorder as I appraise the damage A.J. and I have done. The rolls of toilet paper and eggs have been put to good use.

“Nicely done.” We both turn around as Stephenie Meyer comes to stand with us, admiring the absolute mess we have made. There is not a square inch that isn’t covered in egg or toilet paper.

“I thought you didn’t mind that E.L. James stole your characters to write her shitty books.”

Stephenie snorts. “My publicist made me say that. In reality, I hope her ‘inner goddess’ fucking chokes to death.”

A.J. and I smile. We couldn’t agree more.

If you want to check out A.J.’s site, she can be found at A Good One.

No, I’m Not Part of the Feminist Agenda…I’m Just a Tramp

I was driving this morning, listening to talk radio because I was chain smoking and couldn’t hit the ‘scan’ button. As I was listening, one of those radio psychologists came on and she started talking about feminism. Specifically, she started talking about the ‘feminist agenda’ and how women are ‘giving up their power’.

How are women giving up their power? Why, by being sexually liberated. According to the radio shrink, the reason women dress provocatively and have one night hook ups is because they are on a mistaken quest to ‘assert their sexual power’.

At that point, I had to pull over so I could vomit.

I am sick of every personal decision I make in my life being turning into some kind of male/female power struggle. Can’t be a stay-at-home mom, because I’m giving up my independence. Can’t go to work because I’m being a bad mother. I can’t be promiscuous, because apparently, that means I have low self esteem. But if I never get laid, I’m not embracing my sexuality.

Hey radio shrink, you know what takes away a woman’s power? Letting a radio shrink, with an Associate’s Degree from Bill and Tony’s Upstairs Hollywood College, tell them who to be.

The only decision I make in my life, based on the fact that I have a vagina, is what type of tampons to buy. Every other decision I make, I’m making as a person. Not a woman. Not an ‘empowered lady embracing her femininity’. Nope, just as a person who has to make choices.

And I’m not going to apologize to anyone for them, least of all someone who accuses me of having an ‘agenda’.

When I go to a bar, and I decided to pick up an anonymous dude, so I can attempt to knock him unconscious with my headboard, I’m not doing it because I have low self esteem. I’m not doing it to feel empowered. I’m doing it because I want to get laid, but my life is too fucking complicated for a boyfriend.

I don’t have daddy issues. I’m not part of ‘the hook up culture’. I’m a busy motherfucker. I work 18 hours a day. I have a kid to take care of. I’m writing three new novels simultaneously. I don’t have the time or the attention to dedicate to a man. But that doesn’t mean I should never get laid again…and I don’t want to do it on battery power.

Here’s the deal. Women have been having random hookups for centuries. From the ancient bathhouses in Rome, to the peasant girls in Victorian England, right up to the 60’s and the ‘sexual liberation’. The only reason hook ups get so much attention now is because we actually talk about them.

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Bacchanal anybody? Loosely translated “wild, drunken, orgy party”

Women need to stop trashing other women for the sake of psychology and the ‘feminist agenda’. If some 19 year old girl wants to flash her tits at a ‘Girls Gone Wild’ camera, who the hell are you to tell her she can’t? Her actions reflect on her and not her gender as a whole.

Until we stop drawing gender lines, and acting like there is a different set of requirements for women that there is for men, there is always going to be a war between the sexes. Why? Because we created a war between the sexes.

As far as I’m concerned, for this war, you can consider me Switzerland…neutral and uninterested. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a naked unconscious man I need to drag out to the curb.

Writing About Writing About Writing

Happy Sunday everyone. I don’t know if you guys have seen it yet, but I set up a new page where I’m archiving my featured bloggers so people can access the articles. One of the things that I’ve listed is the requirements for consideration for becoming a featured blogger.

The requirements are mainly things that I won’t do featured blogger articles on. The first two are obvious. No spammers and no poorly written blogs filled with reblogs. The third one is a little more complex. I specifically state that I don’t feature blogs that generically ‘write about writing’.

I feel like I should explain that, as it might sound a little unfair.

As many of you know, I started out writing as a self published author. When I was getting ready to self publish, I researched marketing and one thing that all the marketing sites told me was that I should start a blog so I could gain an audience. Also, the marketing sites recommended picking a niche. I decided to go with humor, because I love writing humor…and I’m cocky enough to admit I’m pretty damn good at it.

My books, though fiction, are also humor. I figured it was a great way to get the right target audience.

Many other hopeful self publishers also read the same marketing advice, but they took it too literally. They decided that their niche would be ‘writing’ because they are writers. This resulted in several million blogs about character development, organizing plot lines, writing off an outline and other general writing-by-numbers advice.

As a result, they got followers. Their followers were all other writers who sat around, talking about writing and how to get people to buy their books. That’s awesome if you want to share information and discuss ideas, but it’s not really something that most non-writers are interested in.

Only a few of my followers are authors. The rest are hobbyist bloggers, photographers, musicians, and other people who are generally not interested in book writing tips.

In addition, I really don’t think you can tell someone else how to write. I think its either something you have in you, or you don’t. If you love writing, you’re always going to love writing and you’re not going to want to do it someone else’s way. If you don’t like writing, it shows in your work, no matter how many outlines or ‘visualization’ techniques you use.

Most of these writing about writing blogs fail pretty fast, because it’s an oversaturated topic that’s not really interesting to read about.

My goal with the featured blogger page is to give people interesting pages to read about. Unfortunately, writing about writing blogs just aren’t that interesting to people.

Now, don’t mistake writing about writing for writing about books. I’m happy to feature book review pages, especially if you’re particularly snarky. When I say writing about writing, I mean writing about the process of writing. My followers might not be interested in writing, but they’re probably interested in books. At least, my sales indicate they’re interested in books (you guys rock, by the way).

In addition, if you have a writing about writing page that is somehow unusual, for example this page, Write Drunk, Edit Sober, where the writer talks about being an ‘incipiently alcoholic author’, and takes an awesome smart ass stance on the process of writing, then I don’t consider it a ‘generic writing about writing’ blog. Those types of pages are in a class by themselves.

Hope that clears everything up. In addition, I wanted to let everyone know that none of this applies to anyone who has already submitted. All the people who stated they were interested have been accepted and added to the list. I’m just slow moving on my questionnaires because my work load has been particularly heavy for the past few weeks. If you take a look at the prior Featured Blogger articles, you’ll notice that I actually researched them a lot. I spend at least an hour on the bloggers page before I write the article, so it takes me a while.

Also, on the final update, I’ve decided to go back to just doing featured blogger articles on Fridays. My freelancing business is a little too busy to do it twice a week right now, but if it slows down in the future, I’ll start doing it on Wednesdays again.