My daily pattern has changed. A month ago, it was:

Go to work in the morning, mood goes from placid to irritable, irritable turns into fury, fury turns into near aneurism, then it’s time to go home.

Go home, crack a beer, play Settlers online or Sonic the Hedgehog, frequent smoke breaks.

It’s changed to:

Go to work in the morning, mood goes from placid to irritable, irritable turns into fury, fury turns into near aneurism, then it’s time to go home.

Go home, crack a beer. Moderate all the comments on NiceFeminist, reply to the comments, write a new post or a draft of a future post, reply to more comments, play maybe one game of Settlers in between, moderate and reply to more comments, go to bed.

Next morning, take 15 minutes to check email to approve comments. I never used to check email in the morning before.

Whew. I’m glad that NiceFeminist is getting hits, no doubt. I guess I just didn’t realize that moderating a blog intended to start discussions would actually require time out of my day. Duh?

That said, come join the various discussions taking place. Fun times.

If only I could not go to work at a bank, and instead stay home and moderate and reply to comments all day.

How does one make money from blogs? I know it’s possible. I just don’t know how, exactly.

As a direct result of yesterday’s post about the oppressed educating the privileged, I created a new blog, where I, as a self-identified feminist, declare that I am completely, 100% okay with, and asking for, totally feminist-newbie questions that I can answer respectfully and accurately. On the blog, I welcome the 19-year-old boy who somehow ended up in a women’s studies class and is unfamiliar with, and even completely ignorant about women’s issues, but has felt a certain spark because of some things mentioned in class, and wants to learn more. I welcome the “chick” whose friends are mostly guys, who feels like “regular” girls (i.e., feminine women who appreciate shoes) are aliens and therefore unrelatable, but simultaneously hates the way she’s treated like a second-class citizen, even subconsciously, by the very males with whom she chooses to associate, whose company she probably appreciates.

So, if you fit any of the above descriptions, or one that you can logically assume you fit into based on what you’ve already read in the description and my previous posts, please check out NiceFeminist, and please comment as often as you want to. The intention of that blog in particular is to help people who would otherwise be without resources that they can reasonably be expected to find on their own, with a bit of forgiveness for being lazy, for good measure.

I will still be keeping this blog around for my more personally introspective posts, or my random work rants. The other blog will be entirely dedicated to feminist issues, with an emphasis on politely educating the interested and privileged, so we can reasonably evolve into equality for all of us.

I hope you read (and participate)!

I’ve been reading some feminist blogs lately where the comments have been hijacked by guys, wondering why the usual commenters, women and men who are familiar with and supporters of feminism, were being so mean and/or impatient with them, when all they wanted to do was learn, or when they should just appreciate a man who *says* he’s supportive of women’s rights?

I came across that post late, so I didn’t bother commenting. What happened, though, was that I remembered my own frustration, ridiculous as it could be, when I’m yelled at, rather than politely directed elsewhere, when I make a comment in a blog about something that I’m not quite on par with the rest of the community about. I understand that the oppressed should not be expected to educate the privileged, but once you go there, you uncover so many other questions, most dramatic of which is: if the oppressed shouldn’t educate the privileged, and the privileged should educate themselves, then where do the privileged acquire their knowledge? If no one brings to their attention that something is wrong, then how should they be expected to know? And, are willing teachers betraying something innate? Do they have a lot of internalized racism/sexism/homophobia to work through? Are we basically just saying that the oppressed should never be expected to stand up and fight for their rights?

When it comes to the new-to-feminism crowd, I sympathize with the people who are genuinely trying to understand, but get ripped to shreds after unintentionally saying something that betrays their privilege and shows their ignorance of the issues being discussed in the post.

I thought, after that particular thread, that I’d hunt down the guy, Kyle something-or-other, and let him know that if he’s frustrated by today’s “blog feminist,” but is still interested in understanding feminism and being a good ally, or even be comfortable calling himself a feminist, that I’d be happy to respectfully answer his respectfully asked questions. Turned out he didn’t provide a link with his “user name” on the blog, so I didn’t know how to find him, but the general idea stuck.

I’d be happy to help educate potential supporters of women’s rights, whether male or female. I know the frustration of just being e-yelled at and insulted for merely asking a question, and not being completely immersed in the feminist jargon du jour, and just wishing that I could get my questions answered without being ripped a new one and deciding for a while that feminists were just obnoxious idiots instead of feeling like I needed to educate myself. Feeling frustrated that these people were so quick to assign themselves a particular place on whatever pedestal, and forget about anything else.

It’s worth it to help people who are genuinely interested and genuinely have good intentions. After I slowly came around through the influence of the feminist blogosphere, I started going to the library and frequenting the “women’s studies” section of the bookstore, and listening to more female musicians and reading more female authors. It’s opened my eyes to many more things, and it may not have if I hadn’t been obsessively reading anything that made me mad that year, and eventually just started to agree with the blog I only read for my own “anti-everything” blog fodder. Would the feminists of the world really miss me, had I not continued reading Feministe and eventually starting to learn what feminism was all about through other channels, and claimed the label for myself? Ultimately, no. But we could all certainly benefit from a whole bunch of people like me, men and women alike. It is a good thing, and a goal of any oppressed group of individuals, to have your oppressors fighting on your side. If not for them understanding, then any kind of equality either comes a lot more slowly, or not at all. It isn’t that difficult to understand, and it’s about time that modern feminists stop pretending that certain truths don’t exist, and just roll with it. Stop being stubborn, stop trying to prove something irrelevant, and just get with the picture. Don’t shrug off everyone that hasn’t had the privilege of paying for a few women’s studies classes, but form little he or she knows now, still wants to learn and doesn’t have the insider-knowledge required to have an intellectual conversation. Do what needs to be done, or who else will? We can’t wait for the MRA’s to figure it out on their own. We have to be willing to engage genuine people who have good intentions and want to learn, and we need to give them time to do so. Are we fighting, or are we complaining? If you don’t accept your responsibility to help your cause, even if that means just being nice on the internet once in a while, then you are just blowing hot air and wasting space.

Maybe I should make a new blog with this idea in mind?

I’m clearly not the expert on equality, oppression, and being a Good Ally and privileged person. But I promise not to be a dick if you’re not a troll, and you genuinely want to help and understand.

People who host and write blogs are in a unique position. You just might show up on someone’s search engine when they Google the topic you write about, hoping to learn. Do you want to look like a homicidal lunatic, or so you want to help your cause? You don’t live in a vacuum; rejoin the rest of civilization and try to remember to stop being such an ass hole.

And, for the record, if anyone actually reads and intends to comment on this blog post, I will just delete the fucking out-there nonsense troll BS. I won’t even humor that shit, so be warned. I’m actually warning not the trolls, but the other feminists who think that allowing trolls to get through and not delete them is good because it calls them out, instead of just deleting them, in order to respect the conversation and not allow derailing. That way, I save myself a few “How do we stop the derailing?!” posts every few months or so.

If I do start another blog, I’ll be sure to link to it here.

Sometimes, I write as though I actually have readers. Ha!

With all the hype/controversy/complaining about Asher Roth, I thought immediately of 3OH!3, and their current hit single, Don’t Trust Me. I thought, Why isn’t anyone talking about that song? On feminist and racial blogs alike?

The lyrics alone are problematic, for a variety of reasons. The song is essentially describing the hipster music scene and making fun of it’s female participants, the ones most definitely not in the bands:

Black dress with the tights underneath,
I got the breath of the last cigarette on my teeth,
And she’s an actress (actress),
But she ain’t got no need.
Shes got money from her parents in a trust fund back east.
T-t-t-tongues always pressed to your cheeks,
While my tongue is on the inside of some other girls teeth,
T-tell your boyfriend if he says hes got beef,
That I’m a vegetarian and I ain’t fucking scared of him.

They start off about the description of the girl, and already imply a macho, alpha-male attitude. The chorus gets better:

She wants to touch me (Woah),
She wants to love me (Woah),
She’ll never leave me (Woah, woah, oh, oh),
Don’t trust a ho,
Never trust a ho,
Won’t trust a ho,
Won’t trust me.

She’s just a ho, and he shouldn’t trust her. Even though he goes on about how his tongue is on the inside of ’some other girls teeth.”

But that’s not enough, call her out and make fun of her for all of the stupid and bad habits that she acquired as a direct result of idolizing shitheads like yourself:

X’s on the back of your hands,
Wash them in the bathroom to drink like the bands.
And your setlist (setlist),
You stole off the stage,
Had red and purple lipstick all over the page.
B-b-b-bruises cover your arms,
Shaking in the fingers with the bottle in your palm.
And the best is (best is),
No one knows who you are,
Just another girl alone at the bar.

The bridge if likely the most singularly offensive part of the entire song:

Shush girl shut your lips,
Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips.
I said, Shush girl shut your lips,
Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips.
I said, Shush girl shut your lips,
Do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips.

I actually cannot physically listen to that final part of the song. It is just too much, in too many places, in so many ways. I can’t even find all the words that describe how and why I am offended at all of that.

The subject matter is not necessarily what’s wrong with the song. Singing about the incredibly self-destructive lifestyle of a touring musician is not bad, or offensive in itself. Bright Eyes has one that I like well enough, among many others. The problem with this particular group is their obsession with the negative qualities of the females that participate in the lifestyles. Picking out all of the bad things about them and them alone, with an undertone of scorn and disrespect, while saying nothing about their own participation in the lifestyle and it’s very negative qualities. Giving the air that it’s okay to disrespect these women because they’re ho’s and you can’t trust ‘em, just look at how they drink too much when they come here and steal setlists.

It grosses me out and I hate it. So I am angry that the song is so motherfucking catchy that I just want to listen to it constantly.

And! The whole album? Sounds like a bunch of fratboys proudly and openly mocking hardcore rap. It’s a fucking “gangsta rap” cd, with that ONE random emo/hipster song hiding out in track 3. It’s unreal.

Someone write a better blog post about that, ffs. I’ll read it. I’m sure too lazy to even bother with standard and generic links to the bands and blogs I’ve referenced, which is not like me.

…It is my blog, after all. I don’t pretend to give a shit if this special place on the internet is 100% relevant to anything other than my own narcissism.

Gawd, my job sucks lately. Everyone in the department quit, got canned, or is busy as hell. I can hardly handle the constant stream of phone calls… “Where is my fax?” “What do you MEAN, you didn’t get the customer’s letter?! What HAPPENS to them?!” “I HATE YOUR FUCKING BANK!” “I’m suing you bastards!”

Etc. and so forth.

What really blows (but is sort of amusing, at the same time) is that this woman, who we’ll call… Flail… she used to sit across from me in the call center. She coughed a lot, really loudly, into the phone. It made me jump every time. I’d hear her say, “excuse me” after she was done hacking up half a lung once an hour or so, and wonder whether she may not be putting her customers on mute before she did that.

I found out the answer to that question once I moved to Reg E, and Flail called, and made me jump a foot in the air by coughing hysterically loudly into the phone… and said, “excuse me.”

At Wells Fargo, your ass would fail the call for coughing into the phone.

I’m having this problem lately with mean people. People are just so goddamn mean.

In addition to mean people, I have had it with customer service. I don’t give a fuck about serving a customer anymore. Not one iota of an ounce, anymore. I’ve worked in customer service for all but about 6 months of my working life (over a decade, at this point), and I have officially reached my limit. Words cannot describe how little I care if a customer closes 6 accounts with us because I hung up on them. I’m not technically considered “customer service” in the job I currently hold, but am required to answer the phone when it rings, and half of the time, it’s a customer, so… yeah.

Another thing, I’m starting to feel really bad about all the times that I was a dick to fellow employees when I was in the call center. I mean, a lot of our employees are either really fucking stupid, or they were trained very poorly, but now, having people who do the job I used to do at this bank calling me and yelling at me? That makes me so bloody angry. The branches are especially infuriating, more so than the call center. The call center has a couple reps that are just outright dicks (Flail) to us (“What are you doing with the customer’s faxes?!”) but the branches are the worst. “But I have VERIFICATION that the fax went through!”

“Oh, you do? Great, then scratch what I just said about not having it, it materialized right here, before my very eyes, at the mere mention of the word ‘verification’!”

What, do you think we hire someone to throw away every other fax we receive? Get a fucking grip! If you haven’t noticed, our bank is still living in the year 1989. We deal with the consequences of a paper-centric existence, too, and one fax machine for 7 states worth of fraud claims (the actual claims PLUS the customer’s letters, mind you) is not a fun thing for us to deal with, any more than it is for you, or our customers.

I know I am supposed to be sympathetic when a customer is broke as shit because they were a goddamn Moron On The Internet and typed their check card number at all kinds of people who wanted to scam them, and now they can’t feed their kids or pay their mortgage. But if they’re yelling at me as a result of all of these circumstances, my personal opinion is that they can all burn in a gloriously warm lake of fire.

As soon as I have a letter in my hands from a customer that contains a threat, such as, “I sure hope you can resolve my claim immediately, because I don’t want to have to withdraw all of my money and go to Chase/Wells Fargo/Bank of America/Whereverthefuck, since I’ve been a good customer with you all for 904 years,” my immediate concern is how I can figure out how to deny it.

(I’m being hyperbolic, don’t report me)

I am way the fuck past giving a fuck if a customer is upset. Sometimes, often, even, I will go “above and beyond” to help someone out, it’s true. In these circumstances, the customer is not taking out their frustration at themselves for falling for a scam on me, and they’re not yelling at me because they’re sad that someone stole their check card and paid all of their friends’ phone bills with it. I am nice to the people that know that it’s not my goddamn fault.

I am also nice to the people who understand that the bank that I work for doesn’t make up the rules I am supposed to follow, let alone the fact that I do not make them up.

I do not call any of your employers and yell at you for something that they did. I just do not do that.

If I am in a position where I need to call a call center, or talk to someone representing a company regardless, you’d better believe that I know what they are going through, and I’m fucking nice. The only time I would consider being less than kind to the person on the phone is if they were a dick to me. Period! I’m not going to take anything out on an individual who is so obviously not responsible for my problem.

…The ass holes at Comcast who systematically lie to me about the prices of the services they offer, and what is in the package I’m trying to get, until the very end of the call when they are about to sign me up, now they can get yelled at. Until I am blue in the face.

But even though they deserve it, I still haven’t done it!

Today was so exhausting, I don’t even have the energy to finish this post.

I’m about ready to bitch-slap the goddamn internet.

The feminist blogosphere has been ripe with controversy and drama over the past week or so, and I must say, I am quite done participating (if you can even call my little-more-than-lurking “participation”).

The whole deal, if you don’t feel like reading all of that obnoxious internet-drama nonsense, is that there was this post on Feministing about new legislation to make it easier for transgender and transsexual women to use women’s public restrooms. The post was fine, but the comment thread went nuts with people talking about the remote possibility that a non-trans man could dress up as a woman in order to gain access to women’s restrooms* and molest, rape, or harass women, and otherwise invade women’s private space. The problem that trans women were having was not necessarily with the (unfortunately expected) unwelcome, transphobic comments, but the fact that the moderators of the blog allowed the comments to continue, and derail the discussion. They decided that those types of comments “silenced” the voices of transgender people and that both Feministing and Feministe had a history of disrespecting and silencing transgender individuals with that type of non-moderation.

The other problem people seemed to have was the tendency for a post about trans issues, such as the bathroom post, were often inundated with comments along the lines of, “What does ‘cis’ mean?” and “why do you feel like you need to be the opposite sex?” If anyone is unfamiliar with blog-speak, this is referred to as “derailing,” i.e., a (possibly, and often, well-meaning) privileged person taking the focus away from the topic at hand in order to make the oppressed educate the privileged, when the privileged should be educating themselves.

I don’t disagree. In fact, it’s blogs like these that have made me more aware of the social privileges that I do have, and how that’s influenced my perspective and behavior thus far, and recognizing them has made me much better at critical thinking and looking at our society through a much-needed, updated lens.

On the other hand, these blogs, and these bloggers, have a tendency to act as though anyone telling a story, forming an opinion, writing their own blog or post or participating in any discussion is exercising their own privilege and being racist, homophobic, transphobic, sexist, misogynist, ableist, etc. and so forth, if it involves an issue concerning a group over whom the have any kind of privilege. It makes me wonder if one is not allowed to have an opinion about anything if they are not a disabled, non-white, overweight, lesbian, transgender, poor, female prostitute.

I mean, come on, now.

I used to blog quite frequently about transgender issues, even though I was not trans myself. I did not think that by being in a relationship with a trans person that I had the right to appropriate his identity, nor did I think that I knew everything there was to know about being transgender or feel I had some right to speak on behalf of people who identified as such. And in being accused of being transphobic and needing to “unpack” my “cis-privilege” twice in one day, I’m kind of doing the opposite of what you’d expect, or even what’s intended: I’m starting to think that I am not just missing something, but that, instead, the internet is full of people ready and waiting to jump at anyone who uses an incorrect semi-colon (or, god forbid, forgets one), let alone has an opinion that doesn’t align properly with the blog’s established group-think.

So yes, Voz_Latina, I’ll “Boycott Feminsting and Feministe.” I’ll also boycott your blog, which I’ve never bothered to look at in the first place until I went to go steal your banner. And all the rest of the hyper-blaming and antagonizing blogs in the feminist blogosphere, along with the rest of the holier-than-though elitist pricks that want to write about how they are free of prejudice and privilege, but are so quick to rip even the most eager-to-learn commenters and other people a new one for displaying even the most unintended, remotest bit of newbie privilege that they are very quick to correct. I might have been turned on to feminism a good couple years before I was if it hadn’t been for asshole commenters in threads like that, where I was the n00b.

…Who am I kidding? I’m still going to check Feministe every day. I have never really frequented Feministing, anyway, but it’s like a high-school version of feminism, at least where comments are concerned, so I probably won’t start an allegiance anytime soon, regardless.

–Fuck that. If I boycott anyone? It’s Cara. I’ve never much cared for her writing in the first place and can’t help but read every article she writes like I’m listening to a hyperactive, insecure bully on the playground in 6th grade, and essentially only read Feministe because I’m a huge fan of Jill’s writing. I was vaguely annoyed when Cara became a regular contributor on Feministe, so now I’ll just scroll right past her nonsense and feel like I’m… making… a point?

What the hell ever.

*Are we kidding ourselves? You think trans women don’t already use women’s public bathrooms? What everyone is forgetting to say is that this whole issue simply means that if you look like a chick, you can use the women’s bathroom, but if you look kinda manly, you don’t get to. Everyone is forgetting to address the real issue at hand, which is, at it’s core, discriminating against people who don’t “pass” as the (socially accepted version of the) gender they are trying to portray, or identify as, and using transgender women as a convenient scapegoat.

Awhile ago, I posted an entry on my LiveJournal with the pictures of our apartment, because we loved it and had just gone shopping and re-organized the place. All the fun spices in the cupboard, the tidy living room, organized bookshelf, new bedroom placement, offices and recording space…

Well, that’s all changed since Jesse and I have discovered online Settlers of Catan: Cities and Knights (officially known as “Xplorers,” since they’re not affiliated with the real game and therefore not allowed to mention the word “Catan” anywhere on the site).

A bit of background info: This is a favorite board game of ours, and Jesse discovered the online version first. We wanted to be able to play with each other online, because the board game itself isn’t terribly fun (or easy) to play with only two people, but the wireless internet conection on my extremely old iMac and it’s equally as outdated AirPort card was exceptionally slow. We fixed that by rearranging the living room in such a way that accomodated our desire to play online at the same time and created our “Nerd Station” by bringing my computer to the living room and hooking it up to the internet via ethernet port. The result was a much faster internet connection and hours and hours of fabulous Xplorers playing.

The added bonus is as follows:
(click the photos to see the whole thing– WordPress cut the horizontal shots in half and, I must say, the entire image is necessary for the full effect)

The bedroom.

The kitchen (Jesse’s brother spent the weekend with us and insisted on doing the dishes, that’s why the sink isn’t as full as usual)

The living room, which was originally the bedroom, which turned into the office, before filling it’s current role as the living room/guest room/place we sleep now instead of the bedroom because the TV’s better for falling asleep to movies that we watch at 1am, after we’ve grudgingly accepted that we should stop playing for the night

The keyboard’s new function as an incredibly expensive coffee table

Our Nerd Station

We no longer wash clothes any more frequently than once every few weeks, or open our mail. We order in more often than anyone should and are practically keeping the local Dominos in business. We have become potheads and chainsmokers, as we have decided that inserting the window fan into the window directly behind our Nerd Station and setting it to “exhaust” means that it is now acceptable to smoke in the house. We have neglected to make lunches every night and instead opt to choose between a few Skyway favorites on our lunch breaks… every single day. We spend the day at work wishing we were in bed because we got so little sleep the previous night (month) but once we get home, we go directly to the computer and there we sit, from approximately 6pm until 1am. Every other night or so, I take a break to shower. Jesse saves this for weekends.

But, oh my goodness, online Cities & Knights is so worth it.

RIGHT?!

God, so I got really stoned last night and took a shower and thought of how amazing words are sometimes, like “realize.” I thought about how I could break it down and see if the real meaning of the word was the same as we intend it to be when we say it in every day language.

So I thought of “realize” and thought, Hmm, I am REAL-IZING something. Like “feminizing” something would make something feminine? Am I making something real by realizing it?

Well, I realized once that Summit is superior to Pabst Blue Ribbon, but did that realization make that assertion true?

One could argue no because they think PRB tastes better. One could argue yes, because the liquor store in Uptown doesn’t sell cases of Summit for $27 even though it’s cheaply made and tastes like horse pee but the retarded hipsters who shop there will pay it so they can say that they drank PBR last night.

But does that make it real?

Then I remembered that “realize” can also mean “I realized my dream to float across the Gulf of Mexico on the body of a bloated seal while wearing my junior prom dress, and it was life-altering and now I feel enlightened, like I’ve finally achieved Nirvana, because all hipsters who buy PBR from HUM’S Liquor in Uptown put “Buddhist” in their religion section on MySpace that they use instead of Facebook because it’s ‘more real.’”

So then, I was going to talk about “realism,” but I accidently typed “realize” into dictionary.com first and was reminded of the fact that there WAS a definition of it that meant what I thought we didn’t realize it meant because of how often we use the word for other reasons, like realizing that Summit is way fucking better than PBR.

So then I just got sad, because I wanted to blog about that, so instead I went on Facebook to see how none of my friends updated anything in the last 5 minutes and saw Facebook’s stupid advertisements about AcaiBerry tea and undereye circle lightener products that offered a “free trial” and thought that anyone retarded enough to watch Rachel Ray talk about how this miracle berry, made into tea, will enable you to shed 100lbs in 4 hours while continuing to consume McDonald’s, a 2-Liter of Diet Coke a day and canned chili whilst siting one your ass all goddamn day long, go to a website that offers them a free trial of this nonsense new fad diet, believe them, and give them any account information deserves to get their goddamn claim denied when they complain to their bank.

Then I thought that I wanted to go back to school and learn how get a new job.

As noted the other day, when a customer disputes a transaction with the bank I work for, they’re required to send us a letter explaining why. As also noted, our customers aren’t the brightest bulbs on the tree. These are verbatim quotes from customer letters:

“Verna’s card was debited by scams”

“Later, with permission, advertisers to the above amount out of my account. with any other products or notice.”

Sigh.

So, I’ve been playing a lot of Settlers of Catan online. You see, Jesse and I have been playing the regular board game version with a friend of ours for a while now, and finally bought it ourselves. The problem, though, is that it’s not a very fun game to play with only two people. That’s when we discovered the online version. Now we’re addicted. We even left a New Year’s party before midnight to go home and play. It’s gotten bad.

Now, I’m not exactly what one would describe as a “gamer,” so this is a bit new to me. There are strange acronyms and etiquette rules to follow, and odd lingo that I’m not familiar with.

One night, Jesse and I went into the same game with one other random player. The other player caught on to the fact that we were together and in the same room, and took great offense to that, calling us “cheats” and being generally pissed off about it. I admit it, I took it a bit hard. I mean, I’m no cheat! It was my first time!

I guess there’s a trend in certain games of couples, or friends, cheating and letting each other win or something, and this guy thought that’s what we were doing. But the thing that I didn’t quite get was why anyone would want to bother with that in the first place. And anyway, Jesse and I are equally competitive and both want to win. We just like playing together. We can coordinate smoke breaks better that way.

The other thing I don’t understand is the weird cattiness and snark that comes from these other people. Now I get that this is the internet and snark just manages to eke out of everyone so naturally, but this is just for odd reasons. For example:

People are really impatient. If someone takes longer than a nanosecond to complete their turn or roll the dice or finish any other move, you’ll see a lot of “COME ON” or “Roll the dice!!!1!” or “ZZZZZzzzZzzzz” in the chat window. Now, in my experience thus far, I’ve noticed that the only reason that I, personally, would take a long time to do anything is if 1. my connection sucks/the game froze/other technical problem, or 2. if I’m not in front of the computer when my turn comes around.

I imagine the times when someone takes too long because they are actually sitting in front of the computer staring at it and deliberately not making a move are very infrequent.

So commenting, telling people to hurry up, are rather pointless. If they’re having a computer or software problem, chat is disabled and anyway, telling them to hurry up is just irrelevant. It’s not them. If they’re not at the computer, then they can’t read the fucking message.

Jesse won’t start a clan with me, and that makes me sad.