Tag abuse

Mar. 13th, 2016 09:46 am
superbadgirl: (Default)
Ugh, I am so sick of people over tagging a story. If I'm reading an explicit story, I do not need to know every type of sex the couple in question is going to have.

Sex. Oral Sex. Sexual Content. Explicit Sexual Content. Het. Het and Slash. Heterosexual Sex. Rough Sex. Restraints. Begging. Wall Sex. Outdoor Sex. Shower Sex. Car Sex.

I would say all but the first are complete overkill, except if I'm already aware, by the genre, that I'm reading an E rated story (or rather not, because the tags frankly reduce my interest rather than pique it) involving sex.


That's a mild example the ones that really make me run away are the ones that don't just leave it at nipple play, but have to use fifteen tags regarding nipples. This, too, is mild. Picture that with the word anal.

Stop it. If something is dubious or non con, tag away. Otherwise, narrow it down so that your tag list isn't longer than your damned story.

Abuse of tags on this post is intentional.

Dear...

Mar. 24th, 2013 06:27 pm
superbadgirl: (Default)
Dear Author,

I realize it's your prerogative, but when you state outright that if someone points out errors in your unedited work that you will ignore them, that means I get to exercise my prerogative to ignore your story. It's not just for this, mind you, but for a pre-existing condition of Bad Grammar and Punctuation you have.

Sincerely,

SBG


Dear Author,

An ellipsis is comprised of three consecutive periods. Not two. Not fifteen or any other random number. Three. Spacing is dependent and a bit more flexible, but please to remember the number three.

Cheers,

SBG


Dear Authors,

Compound words exist. I suppose the meaning is the same if you break them up, but it's just kind of bothersome.

Farewell,

SBG


Dear Muse,

Please get yourself sorted, as your artist has deadlines.

Sincerely,

Your artist
superbadgirl: (Default)
3-6AM: J yowls*
6-7AM: R attempt to massage my face
7:45AM: Garbage truck
8:00AM: R back to walk on my face/head, J yowls for attention
8:15AM: Lean over to retrieve water from fridge, corner of paper pinned to fridge manages to slip under my glasses and stabs me in the left eye.
8:30AM: Find cat poop on kitchen floor.

You'd think Mondays sucking would be contingent upon having to go to a job one hates (or likes, but doesn't feel like it today), but apparently this is not the case.

Also, why are bedsheets so freaking expensive?


*A good chunk of this time, they were locked out of my room. It's just J has a bit of that Siamese resonance to her tone. For a small thing, she emits a lot of noise when she wants.
superbadgirl: (Default)
Terms and phrases I wish would die a quick death:

Baby bump. No, it's not cute and no, there's nothing wrong with using the word pregnant.

Tramp stamp. Perhaps it's personal because I have a lower back piece, or perhaps I loathe the larger hideous social and sexual shaming connotations of that term. Perhaps it's both. If someone wants a tattoo on their back, that's where they want it. It has nothing to do with sexual proclivity ... and even if it did, enjoying sex does not make one a tramp. Or, at least, it doesn't seem to make MEN tramps. See the problem with the term yet?

Real women.... Real women what? If you say real women have curves, then does that mean women who have a less full figure are not real? If you say real women are strong, weak women are imaginary, right? They must be. It's a stupid phrase that divides women into real and not real and let us not even think about the women who were born with a penis, because they are SUPER not real, huh? I hate it.

Surprise!buttsecks. I just don't even, because to me if it's a surprise it's potentially rape and that isn't cute or funny.



I woke up late today. Forgot to set alarm.
superbadgirl: (Default)
Fuck you, you fucking fuckers and all the fucking stupid things you fucking do every day to fucking screw with me. Fuck.
superbadgirl: (geico quote)
*sigh*

I got my first T-shirt from Threadless.com this weekend. I put it on a moment ago, as I'm about to take a walk. It's cute. I like it a lot.

I'm glad I ordered the extra large, though, because it fits me just right. (Hopefully I won't ever accidentally put it in the dryer.) The issue I have with this? I am not extra large. I don't have delusions (well, many) about my body. I know I'm not a small. I don't want to be a small. I can cop to being a large - my breast size alone make this so. But I am not extra large, people.

There is nothing wrong with being extra large, mind you. That I feel mis-sized isn't what really upsets me here. It's that if you actually are an extra large you can't order an extra large in a women's size and expect it to fit. They don't mean you, fat girl, when they say "extra large." You don't exist. If you want a T-shirt, it'll have to be ordered in a men's cut. No fitted Ts for you. Think about it - why would you want to accentuate your curves, anyway? Hide them, hide them in a bulky shirt! Maybe no one will notice you are fat.

ETA: Threadless now offers a 2XL size option for women. When I ordered, less than a week ago, this wasn't a choice. And now I want this one.
superbadgirl: (samheartbroken)
We all have those moments, right, that make us say, What About Me?

Maybe it's when you post about a papercut and no one gives sympathy, but someone else tears a hangnail two minutes later and 40,000 people comment about how awful it is, poor them.

Maybe it's more like We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful, and get lauds and adoration for any little thing they do while we get bupkes.

Maybe it's when you have conversations with people, and no matter what that conversation always ends up revolving around them.

I've felt that way a lot lately. I shouldn't, I know, but sometimes it gets to me.

Take fanfiction. I look at the plain ol' crap that gets feedback and want to wail and gnash my teeth. I find it unfathomable that authors who don't know the difference between waved and waived, your and you're, Wincesters and Winchester's get 600 reviews, when I get, if I'm really lucky, 70. Lordy Lou, I saw a story with a summary that starts, "An bitter arguement..." get over 100 reviews. WTF? Why is stupidity rewarded? I know it's self-centered and pointless to get wounded by that stuff. I don't deserve anything and I do write for myself first and foremost. Yet I can't help but feeling like day old shit sometimes.

What about you all? What sets you off into this kind of moody funk? Here's a chance to bitch and moan all you want, about the silliest little thing. Because it's not silly.

C'mon. Get it off your chest. You know you want to.

ETA: LOL, even when I put out an open call for a bitch session I can't do it right!
superbadgirl: (good to be king)
They stick you in a room. They forget about you for 45 minutes. They take 15 minutes to very rapidly look at your freckles and moles without a magnifying glass. They make you feel like an idiot for wanting to get things checked out.

And then they charge you over $200 for this "service."

Seriously. Fuck. Even though I've been in insurance off and on for a while now and know this is how it works, that just...their motto might just as well be "Bend Over." And I still don't get why they charge you a copay if they know they're going to make you foot the whole freaking bill anyway.

Over $200 to have someone glance at moles?
superbadgirl: (beam)
Gah. Why do I carry the emergency pager? Any real emergencies are beyond my scope. Like tonight, when a couple just came back from a ski trip to find their key did not work. My key didn't work either, and they were getting pissed off because I didn't have the answers they needed (that they'd be reimbursed if they had to call a locksmith - logically, yes, but Mr. S. is a stingy old goat whose business ethics are SO on the other side of the spectrum from mine). I called my boss. He sounded grumpy at being called. Well, yeah.

He went over to said apartment(in the building next door) and called me back five minutes later asking me if I had been smoking crack because the door opened just fine for him. Seriously. I trudged back over and then my key worked as well. What the...?

Needless to say, the tenants were happy with the result but I still look like an idiot.

Off topic: Burt's Bees regular (peppermint) lip balm not so nice. Burt's Bees new honey lip balm nice. I like.

More off topic still: I'd totally forgotten what a complete brat Sara was about Nick getting the promotion (aka Grissom's recommendation) that never was on CSI. Seriously unprofessional behavior, all that pouting just because her intended sugar daddy didn't favor her. And what an ego for thinking she was so high above Nick that it shouldn't have even been a challenging decision.
superbadgirl: (Default)
Please, people, stop with the random apostrophes. Is it just me, or are apostrophes just running more and more rampant - not just in fic, but everywhere? Apostrophes aren't for fun. They serve a practical purpose, though you wouldn't know it. I think they're quickly becoming one of the most abused punctuation marks around.

Poor little apostrophe's. No one seem's to know what to do with them, so they get stuck in some mighty strange pla'ces.
superbadgirl: (don't think so)
I didn't switch to my sneakers when I went for a quick walk at lunch, which resulted in my foot slipping in an annoying fashion for over a mile. These Docs are clunky. I tripped and stubbed the big toe on my right foot. It still throbs.

I am so leaving early today. I'm already bored and it's only 1:30. Oy.

Confession: I didn't watch the dance off, but I did watch the original Dancing with the Stars and I'm very glad John O'Hurley won this time around. He should have won before, but people were all agog for the nekkid hot chick and didn't really look at the dancing. ;)

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