delicious juice dot com: unapologetically inappropriate

.. doesn’t have the same draw as “The Ethical Slut“, but it’s a start.

The Vancouver Observer observed then shared Cyberjournalist.net‘s Bloggers’ Code of Ethics. I read through the list, and found myself outraged – naturally – at the assumption made that all bloggers a) want to be journalists, b) are Very Serious Individuals, and c) strive to be unbiased at all times. What about the personal bloggers, I asked? Trying to provide a Code of Ethics that covers every type of blogger is going to be pretty impossible, no matter how noble the intentions – there are some things I just won’t agree to. For example:

• Be Honest and Fair – Bloggers should be honest and fair in gathering, reporting and interpreting information.

Make certain that Weblog entries, quotations, headlines, photos and all other content do not misrepresent. They should not oversimplify or highlight incidents out of context.

While my fairness might be questionable – this is a personal blog after all; things are going to be slanted my way – I am honest to a fault. That part is fine. However, I take issue with the fact that I’m not supposed to “highlight incidents out of context” – dude, everything I DO is out of context. I am an out of context MACHINE. Life is much, much more fun when everything is taken out of context, and I resent the implication that if I am to be a “good” blogger, I must always be the straight man. In other words, you’ll pry the sequins and feather boas from my cold dead hands!

• Minimize Harm - Ethical bloggers treat sources and subjects as human beings deserving of respect.

Recognize that gathering and reporting information may cause harm or discomfort.

Show good taste. Avoid pandering to lurid curiosity.

When the day arrives that reporting information about the inner workings of my lady parts does NOT cause harm or discomfort, that is the day that I will retire from the internet completely. Sometimes it’s fun to shock people, and see above re: honesty – if my vagina is what’s going on today, you bet your sweet bippy you’re going to hear about it. I’m a sharing person – I want to share everything with you, and sometimes that everything includes what happens in my pants.

Naturally, then, the code calling for me to “show good taste” is something I can’t always abide by. While I certainly think everything about me is in excellent taste, I know that the majority of the world does not agree – in fact, “Panders to Lurid Curiosity” is my Native American name. The more lurid something is, the more involved I am. Remember the potato farm? The pantless pictures of Executive Directors I had to remove? The blossoming political careers I’ve ruined? The whole “never go A2M” thing and the accompanying puppet show? All of those were pretty lurid, and utterly pandered to. You’re welcome, and it’s something I’ll likely never change. Good taste is for pussies.

Pursuit of information is not a license for arrogance.

Yes it is. Prove me wrong, Cyberjournalist.net!

(I’m kidding – this is a throwback to the whole TEDxVancouver invitation fiasco and the outing of my extreme arrogance and position that the world owes me everything)

You can read the entire suggested Bloggers’ Code of Ethics here – these are but a few; the ones that make me pout. I’m fairly certain I’ve earned the right to call myself a blogger, now that I’m almost 10 years in – and while I have my own set of guidelines that I follow (mostly consisting of “don’t be a dick”), I don’t think you can easily paint each and every person with the same brush, give them one list, and say “behave”. I can’t, and I won’t. There’s a reason my Native American name isn’t “Lies Back and Takes It”.

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

I’m as sick of the microfluff updates as you are, so here’s an actual attempt to create some controversy-free content (I’m saving the controversy for Sunday).

I am Stressed Out. As much as I love Doing Things and Holiday Cheer (and, evidently, Random Capitalization), I tend to freak out when my calendar gets too full – above all else, I value my downtime because that is when I get to take naps and sit around without pants on. I *could* do these things while I’m outside being social, but I kind of want to keep being social into the new year and I don’t think I would get invited out as often if I made a habit of being naked.

I don’t think it’s just my calendar that is worrying me, though. I’m traditionally neurotic around the holiday season – even though I’m as dysfunctional as they come, I am driven by a blinding quantum singularity to try and make everyone else literally burst with joy and merriment. That sounds like a good idea and all, until I inevitably take it too far and ruin my OWN holidays by worrying myself sick that I saw a frown or a grimace or a hamburgler. I don’t WANT to stress out that everything won’t be Hallmark Perfect, since it rarely is – but each year I send myself into a panic attack, and I can feel one brewing. I usually waffle between despair and resentment – despair because Ed refuses to play along with my compulsive obsession to get him the ultimate, best ever, boner-inducing perfect holiday gift that will make angels sing and jizz fountains of rainbows all over the place; and resentment because NO ONE ELSE CARES if our holiday goes off without a hitch. Then I feel all guilty because obviously I didn’t do enough to make everyone festive and jolly, meaning I’ve likely ruined Christmas for EVERYONE EVER, and ..

It’s a vicious circle, and I hate it. It’s all my mother’s fault – one disastrous Christmas during my formative years equals a completely unstable Kimli who rings in each holiday season with an over-compensating need for perfection that inevitably leads to financial hardship on my part as I try to prove my love for people with needlessly expensive and thoughtful gifts.

We haven’t discussed what we’re doing for Friendmas this year, but last year’s necessity-driven plan of Let’s Eat Everything Ever was actually a lot of fun – I’d be up for doing that again this year, if we’re all in town. Anyone?

Back to being busy, though. I desperately want to go down to Seattle one weekend to spend some Quality Time with the Suttleseseses, but I’m full up between now and January thanks to TEDxVancouver, Got Craft, visiting friend (!!!!), work parties, Xmas itself, and hopefully something fun for New Year’s Eve. When will I nap? When will I beat up Ed because he won’t give me any goddamn ideas as to what he wants for gifty times? When will I find the time to work on my ass groove in the couch?

There’s another facet to my already multi-sided stress: my promotion came with party planning, which is fantastic – I like doing it, and I’m strangely good at it (because I’m fucking neurotic about all the little details). However, this means I’m now responsible for the workplace merriment of almost 100 people – not to mention Doing Some Good; my lobby to Adopt a Family this year received rave reviews so I’m in charge of that, too. What if I fail? Failing means I’d be ruining the holidays for a needy family, and that would destroy me. Can I sufficiently pump people up enough so they donate to the cause? What if I can’t? That won’t happen – I’ll fund the damn thing myself if I have to. The bank will understand if I can’t pay my mortgage this month, right?

I think I may throw up.

echo "HO"; ++$x3 }