Sep 20

The blogging adventure continues.

Today I got my first expletive-deleted reply to an e-mail blast.

The expression was nothing special, just the usual three little words, beginning with “go” and ending with “yourself,” with a four- letter expletive in the middle, suggesting an activity I might want to perform on my person.

I hear this suggestion made to others all the time, on every street corner, bus stop, and store in the city, and many, many times in every cop movie I’ve ever seen. I’ve even had it shouted at me, in a memorable scene at a restaurant when a friendship was undone. (This town wasn’t big enough for both of us anyway.) But this is the first time I’ve seen it in print directed at my blog.

Well, there’s a first time for everything, but now I have to figure out how to reply to this reply.

When I get requests to remove someone from the mailing list, and we all get a few of these, I send an email right back saying, “Done.” And I do. Take the name off the list.

But “Done” doesn’t seem to cut it in this case. I mean, she didn’t ask to be taken off the list, now did she? So what would I have “done?” What she suggested? I don’t think so . . .

Once, someone asked who the hell I was, and I replied, adding that I’d remove her name but probably would never get over the trauma. She said to remove her name. I did. If she didn’t get my humor, she’d never read the blog anyway. Someone else asked this question, and is now a regular reader. Go figure.

I’ve also gotten my share of Spam, including one from a teen-age escort service in the Phillipines, and another asking me to publish a comment about a new male-enhancing device. These were no brainers. No reply needed.

I like to learn from criticism. No I don’t. Like it. But it’s got to be done, like flossing or flushing. The thing is, I can’t profit from this experience unless I ask for more information, and that could be dicey.

Considering the current climate abroad in the land, she’s liable to tell me where she’d like to shove my blog,  scream out “You lie!” or tell me I don’t deserve a Blogger’s Choice Award because Beyonce has the best blog ever.

In the interest of complete disclosure, you do nominate yourself for these awards, but I have gotten a few votes from other bloggers as well, and it is so nice to be honored by your peers and all that.

My husband’s daughter, who has a jewelry business and sends out lots of e-mail blasts about upcoming parties, says that for everyone who doesn’t like getting the reminders, there are many more who request them. She says to take anyone off the list who doesn’t want to be on it, and keep on blasting.

Good advice, and I intend to take it  — with the person who sent the x-rated reply already (expletive) deleted from the list.

The irony of all this is that the email in question was about SON Of YO, UNIVERSE, in which I say, somewhat tongue in check, that you get what you ask the universe to give you. I asked for this? I have no recollection of any such request, and my short term memory is not that bad.

What if I replied to the e-mail? I might actually learn something  — new and exciting expletives, at the very least. Could I turn this lemon into lemonade? Isn’t it too late in the season for lemonade? Should I practice what I blog, and simply focus on the positive: all the great feedback I get and how much fun I have with the site?

Or should I —  in the words of so many, so often, and perhaps so correctly  — just put it behind me and move on. After all, you can’t let the expletive deleted bastards get you down, now can you?


Use all the expletives you want, although they may be deleted.

Artwork by Gary Poole: Expletives 2001, Acryllic On Canvas @ www.carolinagalleryart.com



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