Could you do me a favor? Perhaps, since you bothered to ask; just sign here and initial there and there

   Okay people, I have to tell you something. The tread-upons are mad as heck and we're not going to take it anymore. Set the scene PTT, we have no idea what you are thinking about.   Oh, yah, I see.

   In my world, there are people that take all the time and never give, not even thanks. This is about them. We have situations that arise where a person will need help and it will be given and no appreciation will be shown, no acknowledgement that a favor has even been done, as if it were expected or somehow owed to the taker. This creates self-esteem issues for those of us that don't necessarily have any problem going out of our way to help our fellows, some of us consider it one of our finer personality traits that we help people out. Unfortunately, if I do you a favor and you act like it was something I owed you, it tends to make me feel like you think I am an employee of yours, without the paycheck. This is worse than slavery, a scenario where you would have to feed, clothe, and house me. I get nothing from this deal, and it isn't going to happen anymore. I have formed a group, albeit without most members knowing they are in it; but they will when I get the pamphlets printed up and ask them to hand them out. I don't even have the acronym worked out yet, or whether there should be one, can't seem to work Eat Shit Ungrateful Fuckwads into anything catchy.

  The central problem for myself and my fellow trod-upons, is the anything-but-sly, hint-request. For example, I have a friend we will call Isabel. She has roommates in the immense house that they rent and the roommates have small children. One evening not long after she got home from work, the male roommate Greasy was sitting there with the children, watching television or whatever it is he does. She asked wasn't he supposed to be on his way to work and he said well he didn't have a babysitter as his Babymomma was at work. Keep in mind that Isabel had watched the children umpteen plus one times before, almost always after offering because of this sort of hint-request. Isabel said oh and went about her own thing. Greasy was fired as this was not his first time laying out of work for no reason, and the talk behind Isabel's back is that it was her fault. She wasn't asked, but it is somehow her fault because she didn't offer? WTF?

   The most diabolical part of the hint-request is that by not actually asking for the favor, if anything goes wrong, or if a favor is asked in return, the hint-requester acts as if they have no responsibilities because they didn't ask. Complain that they are late getting back when you're babysitting/house-sitting/dogsitting? Well, I didn't ask; you offered. Ask a favor of your own, since you have done these previous favors? Don't throw that in my face, I didn't ask you to do any of that. Very smarmy, ungrateful, fuck-face type attitude, seriously. Don't tell me you owe $X for this or that and only have $Y, when what you mean to say is "Can I borrow $Z?", but you're waiting for me to offer so you don't have to ask. Then, when you take forever to not pay it back you can say that you never asked, as if that somehow means you shouldn't pay it back in a timely manner. Next time go to the fucking bank and hint around.

The main goal of our group will be to lend support to each other as we struggle against our instincts to help people that need help until we are asked. If you are the one that needs help the very least you could and should do is to ask for it honestly and openly. And be appreciative afterward.

When is a cookie not a cookie?

  When the Brits get involved it's a 'biscuit', but that's not what I'm going for this time. Reaching into the well of personal stories from my family, this week's guest star is my cousin Flem's son Jebediah. (Name changed to protect what innocence he has left.)

  Once upon a long ago, GrandMama hitched her wagon to a star by the name of George "Tipsy" McStagger (name also changed). Tipsy is a so-called 'Health-Nut'; so-called in the sense that paying $4 for a bulb of "organic" garlic is contradicted by downing a bottle of wine every two days. Other than the excessive drinking, the health-nut reputation is well-earned, witness the horribly dry, grainy "organic" peanut butter in their fridge and the "sometimes with bonus blood spots in the yolk organic fertilized" eggs, etc.

  This is the South, so whenever a person enters a home they are quickly encouraged to eat, and excuses are not usually accepted. It is a knowing-glance-traded inside joke within the family that anytime you have anything to drink or eat in Tipsy's presence, you will be offered THE GOOD KIND. Want to make a sandwich, we got THE GOOD KIND of turkey, ham, whatever from the deli. The bread? Why yes, it is filled with whole grains, and some twigs and berries if I'm not mistaken. Because it's THE GOOD KIND. Some mayonnaise, butter, mustard, pickles, syrup, shoe polish? THE GOOD KIND is available, have no fear. Why the ordinary kind of a lot of things is kept around is not known, it is sometimes implied that GrandMama has stealthily brought in the sub-par versions just to irk Tipsy.

   One weekend not so very long ago, while Jebediah was visiting them for the weekend, his oft-repeated phrase "I'm hungry" escaped his reptilian lips. GrandMama responded that supper was not long off, would he like a few cookies to tide him over. Possessing neither the ability to stop time nor a flashy thing like Men In Black, I was not able to advise the boy against the offer without insulting GrandMama and Tipsy; so I said nothing.  
  
  "Yeah!!" Jebediah happily exclaimed, and I watched helplessly as Tipsy moved towards the rooster-shaped cookie jar.

  Tipsy spoke with more than a little pride as he removed the rooster's head and offered the jar to Jebediah, "You have all you want of these, we made these yesterday, they're THE GOOD KIND."

I waved off the offer after Jebediah greedily two-fisted himself headlong into regret. You see, THE GOOD KIND of cookie looks a lot like an ordinary chocolate chip cookie from a distance; and the right angle. The closer you get, you start to see bits of what might be un-ground wheat, oats, even something that looks like it was shredded off of a cattail. There are little brown clumps, (carob chips posing as chocolate); so a kid might overlook the stuff that looks like it was swept up off the floor and chomp right down. Jebediah sure did. The look on his face was very comical indeed, I can't describe it. Let's compare it to the hypothetical expression one might have if they were to drink from a glass of vinegar if they were expecting lemonade. Harsh is an understatement. Now you may have gathered that Flem is not too big on social graces, and might not have taught Jebediah about being polite, and you would be right. Less funny for my story, but he picked up the idea somewhere, and didn't immediately spit out the not-a-treat cookie and say what he thought of it. He actually continued to chew and swallow the cookie, and the rest that he now regretted taking from the Evil Rooster of Death. Quite a heroic feat, as chewing these cookies is a lot like eating at the beach, except there is usually some redeeming flavor in whatever you got sand in when you eat at the beach. Good for my story, he did try to palm some of them off on me, which we both got a laugh out of, believe that!











I don't know if reptiles have lips, or if his lips resemble them, I just wanted to write that sentence that way.
Carob is a brown substance that vegans and others will have you believe is "better than chocolate - and better for you!", which, you know, it may be healthier but nothing is better than chocolate, and carob doesn't even come close.

  

You know, sometimes you just don't know

It can really become a problem if you aren't careful, the not
knowing. All is usually quite well in Blisstown, the realm of
ignorance, protected from what we don't know about those we care
about, those we tolerate, those we restrain ourselves with nearly
super-human strength from grabbing by the neck and .... Those are the
easiest to deal with, the ones we despise; you rarely learn anything
new that causes pain. Surprise, maybe, when you learn that some
shotbag that you wish you never met once did something honest or
slightly ethical, but one kitten not kicked does not a sympathetic
character make, it just doesn't work that way. Those folks you
tolerate, the ones that reel you closer with reasonable behavior,
those can be very trying, but as long as you keep in mind that they
have given you reason to keep them at a distance things usually work
out all right. Ahhh, but those other ones, those you care about, the
ones you expect the best from, no matter how many times they've let
you down, those people, harumph! Is the revelation that someone you
care about has let you down yet again the worst of it? No, at some
point that becomes the long-awaited relief. It's the pointless,
you-wouldn't-dare-screw-me-over-again-would-you, hope-against-hope
that is the worst of it. When someone always let's you down, that
predicatability can be a comfort, as long as you're willing to let it
be. Pretending, telling yourself that it isn't going to happen again,
that's harmful behavior. Besides, the immense joy of being surprised
by someone that you know better than to believe in is probably all the
greater once you have completely given up all hope.

Globe scoops YMT, Orpah not gay

  I have long suspected Orpah and her best bud Gail King are a lesbian couple, and had even partially written out a
piece about it, shelved it for a while, then the Globe comes out with their version, which pretty much tells me I was way off. They have a
website, but the story isn't there, they want you to buy the rag, and I think it was a week old when I saw it at the market. I didn't buy it either, since I know where they get there information. Basically, it is an unfounded supposition based entirely on circumstantial evidence.

    One: Orpah mentions galpal Gail about 50 times as often as the very beardish-looking Stedman. Okay, that was two points.
     Two: She has propped up galpal Gail on the staff of her magazine, despite her complete lack of experience.
      Three: Lots of people have best friends, when was the last time you took your best friend on vacation with you instead of your mate?
       Four: She is over fifty and has never been married, and doesn't seem anxious to ever do so.
        Five: Orpah has lots of money and seems to be in the best shape of her life, she must have something to hide.

  These things are what my theory and the Globe's have in common. They have an additional incentive, Orpah Gay! makes a pretty good headline for selling a checkout rag. I prefer people come here to read what I have put here because they have been amused before, not because a search engine sent them, hence the spelling 'Orpah'. Anyway, whether you are trying to sell magazines or amuse approximately 24 people, the theory doesn't hold water. Orpah doesn't fit any lesbian profile available through the Spotgay Network, and she has never been seen near the Scientology Welcome Center. Whether she and Gail and Cameron and Julia occasionally get together for overnight clamathons doesn't change the fact that she is more than likely 95% straight. If anything, she is the beard for fey businessman Stedman Gingerbread, NTTAWWT.

Reunion Entertains One

  Back to television, not that we ever leave it for long here at YMT, TV is what keeps the thinking part-time.

  Reunion is on FOX, and is one of those shows that makes me glad to live in a time that canceled series end up on DVD. I say that because FOX has decided to place this show on Thursday night opposite the NBC bad hair show and whatever blockbuster not-fully-boring show that CBS has on. FOX also has a well-earned reputation for cancelling shows that don't go number 1 right away, there is a complete list at The Futon Critic; just look up 'tv on dvd'.

  Reunion is better than most of the shows that folks seem to want to talk about all the time, so I don't bother to discuss it in the groups or IRL. The premise is to follow a group of friends from high school graduation night through their 20th reunion, at which time one of them has been killed; presumably (or just possibly) by one of the others. Each episode is one year-ish later than the one before, There are flashbackwards and forwards, changes in time period have been noted at the bottom of the screen since the first episode. I found this rather clever to start out with them, as they were unnecessary in the beginning with everyone looking so much different over 20 years time; but this gets the viewer used to it and allows us to be sure of where and when we are as the years go by and the characters look less different from then to now. One problem that I don't see any way out of, the beginning of the show is already stretching out to catch up any first-time viewers, and this was the third episode. By the year 2000 it will take the first 20 minutes to rehash everything that has happened. Either they shorthand the refresher course a lot better or just do away with it. I don't want to give anything away, as there is still time for you to catch up and form your own conclusions, but there is a synopsis of what I think is going on here. Oh, the other great thing about this show, it can't possibly be dragged on past the first 20 episodes, we already know all these people's whole lives, and the great mystery that joined them. The question is, if it somehow survives the full season, is next year about another mystery and a whole new set of friends, or is the show just over? I'll assume if the show happens to last out the year they will find a way to make it go on.

I read some Lost fans whining about nothing really happening on the second episode this year, well duh, they are trying to wait for all the new fans to fully catch up since buying their DVDs.