Saying Sorry: A Guide

"IF"s do not belong in apologies.

The only time IF should be in an apology is:

 a)  if the apology is for a future possible action or outcome:

or b) if you are in a crowded place such as a Subway train:

                                                                   source

or c) there is some uncertainly as to whether you are the person to blame, or if another person was responsible

                                                                   source

Under no circumstance, unless you fancy the idea of someone wanting to harm you, should you add "IF" to an apology when you have just been told that you did something that required an apology.

The phrase "I'm sorry if," when there is no uncertainty, directly translates to: "It is unfortunate I have to hear you bitching right now. I want you to shut up. I am going to say words now in the hope that you will do just that. I am certainly not sorry, and to boot, I think you'll let me get away with this."

"THAT" is the keyword to sincere apologies. I'm sorry THAT I made you angry. I'm sorry THAT I got you pregnant. I'm sorry THAT I also got your sister pregnant.




I'm also sorry THAT I used the example of rubbing crotches on people in the subway.

To My Doctor...

So... okay, my colonoscopy was awful, and it was an anomaly*, I know, because I have a super liver (still) that filters medications out of my body at high speeds, so uh, I may have traumatized some people.

They also might not have taken me completely seriously when I told them that I ALWAYS wake up during the procedure. So, I woke up during the procedure...

And I feel it necessary, now, to make this card for my doctor because I am going to have to continue to see him, and I am fairly embarrassed that in my semi-unconscious state I couldn't stop myself my screaming like a crazed weasel and crying hysterically, like someone had just been cutting chunks out of my intestines while filling them full of air.

All I really know about my doctor is that he REALLY likes working out. And he seems not to be a serial killer, so I can safely assume that he likes kittens and rainbows and unicorns and mini Godzilla.

So, yeah. Sorry 'bout that.



*Please don't let this scare you off from getting life-saving diagnostic tests. Most people don't have this problem, and a few minutes of screaming while they run off to get you more meds is worth making sure your guts are okay, believe me. This is my fifth and it won't be my last, no matter how many times it traumatizes me.

An Apology 'Neath the Green Bay Tree

A letter to my nephew in the future:

Dear Booger,

I just want to tell you that I love you before I begin explaining.

I am writing this because some day, I am sure you will see the movie Gummo, and when you are done watching that movie, I'm fairly certain that you are going to hook your brain into the computer and google "WTF IS WRONG WITH MY AUNT!?"

And the answer is, "I don't really know. I guess I wasn't thinking about the fact that you would see that movie some day and it had the potential to implode your childhood."  Which probably won't help in your need for therapy, but it is my honest answer.

See, there IS something wrong with your uncle, as he really likes the movie Gummo and played it often before you were born. I tried to avoid watching it and would leave the room or retreat to the computer when he turned it on, but it starts with THAT DAMNED SONG, and that damned song is an awesome song... and somehow, when I first held you shortly after you were born, I thought, "I love my little rooster and my rooster loves me!" and so I sang it to you, and it became our song, and it wasn't until I heard you singing under your breath the other day, "Cock a doodle do, doodle doo, doodle doo," that I thought, 'OH CRAP, SOME DAY HE'S GONNA WATCH THAT FREAKING MOVIE! I AM THE WORST AUNT EVER!'

So, I am sorry. I could lie and say I didn't get the song I have sung to you all your life from a really upsetting awful movie, but clearly that is not true. I just thought it was better than Old McDonald and it has yodeling. Yodeling is good. Gummo, not so much, unless you are into that sort of HORRIFIC disturbing thing (which you are allowed to be if you are... I still love your uncle, you'll notice).

All my love,
Your Aunt J

The song in question. Research the movie on your own if you've been lucky enough not to see it. =P

Musical Interlude- Don't Let the Sun Go Down On Me

This song keeps coming on the radio, though I had never heard it before, prior to last week.  Had no idea it was an Elton John song, but since it keeps coming on, I figured it wanted an illustration.

Oh, and also, I'm immature.

(click for pnsfw funny)

A.A.A.D.D.

Dearest parents (especially mother), you should either not read this or, if you insist upon doing so, you should take a lot of illicit date rape sorts of drugs before reading this so you don't recall it and never discuss it with me. Let's go with never reading it, okay? Awesome. 


I'm not kidding either. 
Okay, on to the post ...


I was just reminded, when the boy I had a crush on in middle school added me on Facebook, that I was a fucking psycho when I was a teenager.  I think I owe pretty much everyone with a penis (who was not an immediate member of my family) that I knew from the ages of 11- 19 a major apology.  See, when I say "the" boy I had a crush on, I mean ONE of the 7 billion boys I had a crush on, but  definitely the one I spent the most time terrorizing, from my recollection. No, wait, the one I spent the most time terrorizing in eighth grade, and also part of 7th. I terrorized the hell out of a bunch of guys. I had a problem... we shall refer to it as attention and affection deficit disorder (AAADD).
I was  really bad, as a teenager, at ascertaining when someone was attracted to me. That is, people for the most part, weren't attracted to me, but if they were willing to make eye contact with me, or respond to me when I spoke and I found them even the remotest bit attractive, I was pretty sure they were in love with me. Or maybe it was that I was pretty sure I was in love with them, and any modicum of attention convinced me that the feeling was mutual or could, through repeated pestering and writing of REALLY bad poetry, be cultivated.

If you could imagine Chris Farley.. hell, you don't have to imagine. Here is a clip.

Yes, that was me, only quite a bit cuter. But the thing is, there was no chance of me having any sort of normal relationship with anyone at that time because responding to me was enough to set me off in a pattern of psychotic smothering attention. If I could just get my foot in the proverbial door, they were sure to adore the ever loving shit out of me... but the reality of it was, they were more than likely terrified of me, because my attention was fairly terrifying. And that was when I wasn't thinking of anything more than just holding hands and pop kisses.  I was probably about 42 times more terrifying when I was trying to seduce every male who interacted with me, not excluding my 9th grade Math substitute, some weird French guy who owned a leather furniture design company who may have been in his late 40s, my best friend, who was a male (the poor guy), C.B. Barnes, and our 25 year old neighbor.

Of course, people who WERE actually attracted to me, I was oblivious of.  If they approached me first, I was suspicious and bitchy.  Yup, bitchy is the word for what I was, in that it is a word that doesn't start with a C that would probably be a better word for how I acted, but people seem to have an aversion to that word for some reason that I am unable to fathom. Anyway, I mean that I was a jerk version of crazy when I wasn't being otherwise crazy and writing, have I mentioned, REALLY horrible poetry... like the kind where each line starts with a letter of the boy's name, and which I carefully calligraphized on floofy purple stationary that I might have rubbed on a perfume sample page of a beauty magazine so he knew it was from a girl and that I then stuck in his locker. After I stalked him and saw that he had seen the poem and hadn't come running to confess his love for me, though he was one of the most sought after boys in school and I had no concept of "out of your league,"  I then carefully extracted said horrible purple calligraphied poem out of his locker while pretending to go to the bathroom, so that it couldn't be used to humiliate me any worse than I had already done myself. Wait that wasn't clear. I meant, I asked my teacher to go to the bathroom so I could stop by his locker and go mission impossible on it, not that I was pretending to pee while I was shoving my fingers through the air holes of the locker to get the embarrassing fucking thing out.

Anyway, yeah, sorry boys, and maybe some girls too, for making you uncomfortable and for being unable to handle having female hormones. I'm much more balanced now, though I am still prone to bouts of adult AAADD... I am just aware of things like restraining orders and mace now, so I have toned it down and there is nothing to be afraid of. And also sorry for the poem. You didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves that... nobody.

Hanukkah 2011- 4th Night- Goodness Gracious

We are trying to teach my nephew the skill of being gracious. When you are going to get crappy gifts, you need to just suck it up and be as gracious as possible, because as much as we all are thinking it, it makes people angry when you say "I don't want this. Can I have something else?"

Tonight, I am testing your graciousness. And by that, I mean I got you a BEAUTIFUL piece of art that made me think of you the moment I saw it. I just KNOW you will LOVE IT!

Bonus points if you print it out and display it and provide me with proof in your thank you note.

(look over there to the left, click to open this OR scroll down)