So here I sit, cozy at home, looking nerdy, and listening to the Olympic brou ha-ha which echos across English Bay. Fireworks, crowds, and what may you.
Meh!
I hate crowds, and for as much as I’m happy that Vancouver’s hosting the Games, I don’t feel it necessary to check-out the scene downtown. I also shall not be tuning-in to the opening ceremonies tomorrow night. Instead, I’ll be having fun out at (former) Riverview Psychiatric Hospital, being an extra on some indie film about zombies. (One of my best friends is the caterer/with craft services for the film.)
I get to be a zombie for several hours 
Whoo! Big stretch, hey? I wonder if I ought just roll outta bed, fail to brush my furry teeth, and frighten the shit out of everyone on-set?
Much more fun than sitting at home, watching the opening ceremonies, or being part of the crazy scene, downtown! I can watch that stuff online, later. I’d rather be a zombie, and have fun with my friends Dawn (caterer) and Dana (fellow Mistress of Macabre). I’ll be certain to take some photos & post some to the blog over the weekend.
So … apparently, I wasn’t the only person who’d noticed the distinct similarity between an earlier blog post (and Facebook notes) and that which was published to a local blogger’s website AND in yesterday’s issue of 24 Hours Vancouver.
I was not imagining things, nor am I delusional. The content was awfully close to what I’ve previously written elsewhere.
I hope that this was just a coincidence.
This was NOT the first time I’ve written something, only to stumble upon eerily similar content published in 24 Hours Vancouver, weeks later.
Last January 7th, I wrote and published a note to Facebook entitled You Know You’ve Become Comfortable In A Relationship When … (see hyperlink for actual note, clipped/pasted from Facebook).
It was about crossing the “fart threshold” in new relationships.
You Know You’ve Become Comfortable in a Relationship When … (Note Published to Facebook: Wednesday, January 7, 2009 at 3:08pm)
… the farting begins.
You know it’s “real”, and you’ve moved beyond the casual dating/early relationship stage when the farts start a’-rippin’! Oh, yes!
Farts happen. Farts are funny (in moderation). Farts are sometimes just too good not to share with a special someone. Nothing defines “intimacy” more than fart-sharing.
However, there seems to be an unspoken, undetermined “honeymoon period” when one wouldn’t dream of blowing the asstastic trombone, and should one let a fart accidentally slip … utter mortification ensues.
As per my status update last night:
“Kate says, ‘Dignity comes in many forms. Such as: laying naked in someone’s bed, post-coitus, in gastrointestinal agony, never letting-on that you’re dying to fart.’ “
So, so true, and most of us have been there! You know it, I know it, and there is no shame in laughing at one’s gastacular moments!
In case you’re wondering: yes, that status update was based on personal experience, and I’ll bet that at one time or another, you too have experienced something similar (especially fellow members of the fairer sex)! Possibly too much information for some to share, but … it’s funny, and ladies will sympathize with the fartastic tale!
Just know that I’d been dating someone for several weeks, and while laying in his bed early one morning, put myself through the AGONY of withholding … something really evil. Put it this way: we’d been drinking a lot of beer the night before, and like the brewmaster who’d perfected whatever we’d been drinking, yours truly had been brewing something special in her gut over-night.
Though the guy laid asleep next to me, I knew that he wouldn’t be for long, should I let-loose under the sheets. And so I laid there, perfectly still, trying not to double-over, but not daring to move an inch, lest the post-beer brew slip-out with violent velocity. There was an adjoining en suite bathroom, but forget the awkwardness of strolling naked across the room: I was more worried that the fart would fly out while trekking across the room, or once having reached the bathroom, the powerful blast would vibrate & ricochet off walls, echoing throughout the room. There’d be no muffling or disguising that one.
Clearly, we hadn’t reached the “I’m comfortable enough to fart in front of you” stage. (we never arrived at that point, breaking-up when he cheated on myself about a week later.)
And so I laid there, painfully … for more than an hour, pretending to be asleep, just waiting for him to get-up & hit the shower. Let’s just say that when I let-loose, the duvet almost rippled, and I think that a robin may have fallen out the tree near the bedroom window.
For all of my agony, dignity & consideration, he was none the wiser, detected nothing, and (soaking wet) jumped back into the freshly farted-in sheets.
Others aren’t as considerate as myself, I might add. Without saying too much, or being overtly graphic, just know that my former fiancé, “Sharty Sweatpant Man”, cut-loose during … up-close & personal moments with myself.
Yup. Horrific. Traumatizing. (and you wonder why I didn’t marry him?!) “Poor Kate!”, indeed.
I reckon that like trimesters of pregnancy, new couples ought to arrive at an official “you can fart in my presence” point of their relationship. You know: say, 3-6 months into the relationship?
Perhaps there should even be an intimate, personal “fart sharing” ceremony of sorts. Copious amounts of cabbage, beans, and beer could be consumed during a romantic, candle-lit dinner for two … some Julio Iglesias, Luther Vandross, Barry White & Peabo Bryson playing in the background … gifts of Beano exchanged in-between words of love, softly whispered into each others’ ears … (“oh, you shouldn’t have! thank you! does this mean that you really love me?”)
Like a kiss to seal a wedding ceremony, this intimate, pivotal point in a couple’s relationship could culminate with a synchronized game of “Pull My Finger”: farts shared simultaneously. One might compare it to … the dizzying explosion of release one feels at the point of climax, or (for you less risqué types) … pulling a Christmas cracker together, without having to wear funny paper hats!
Capping the evening of the romantic, fartastic ceremony: some horizontal hokey-pokey, in a bed warmed by intimate … Dutch ovens.
Whoo! I don’t know about you, but I’m getting chills just thinking about it …
The majority of my notes published to Facebook were set for a limited amount of my contacts to read. However, there were some notes which I permitted all of my contacts to read, as well as “friends of friends”. Meaning that all 350+ of my former Facebook contacts, as well as all of their contacts could read my note about farting.
That’s a lot of people, folks!
The note was/is humourous, and — no doubt, struck a chord with many whom read it’s content. It garnered several responses from Facebook contacts, including one from a former uncle (who shared his story about a honeymoon fart, when he’d married my aunt).
I can’t remember the exact time frame (definitely within less than two months after I’d published my note to Facebook), but one morning, I sat reading that day’s new issue of 24 Hours Vancouver, and there on the page was … an article about couples farting, within the beginning stages of their relationship.
Very similar to what I’d written, weeks prior — including the line “the honeymoon’s over”!
What. The. Fuck.
The author, a local freelance writer (woman, about my age), writes a dating column in that paper, but also has work occasionally published to another well-known, freebie paper, The Georgia Straight. It appears that she also has a small online blog.
Out of respect for her talent, reputation, and credibility — and because I am now unable to find an online link to the specific piece published to that paper — she shall remain anonymous.
I am not insinuating that my work (published to Facebook) had been viewed by her (a friend of a friend?), she was “inspired-by”, nor plagiarized what I had written. No. But it’s very similar content, and the time frame which that piece of her work had succeeded my own certainly DID cause me to raise my eyebrow.
This is a small city. People know people. People are connected via Facebook.
Can you blame me for wondering about the article’s coincidentally close content, published within 4-8 weeks of my own work hitting the `net?
I clipped & pasted the content of my work, and sent her a friendly email, saying something along the lines of, “Wow. Great minds clearly think alike. Isn’t it ironic that I too wrote something similar, recently? We must be on the same wavelength. I enjoyed the humourous slant of your article.”
I blind carbon-copied that email to the editor of 24 Hours Vancouver, but no response was forthcoming from either the writer nor editor.
And like I just said: I can no longer find that piece of her work online (though it used to be published there).
Hunh!
There are a lot of talented, witty writers out there. I’m sure that this city is filled with thousands of them, competing to get their work published & make a living. Many have spent thousands of dollars on university or college educations — degrees in Journalism or English. They have worked hard, are trying to keep a roof over their head(s), and like all areas within the arts, freelance writing is a cut-throat industry. Sink or swim.
I do not have a formal education in writing. I am a self-taught, life-long writer. I have not tried to earn a living by writing. Many have suggested that I do so, and many others have sited that I can write circles around many of those whom are earning a living, writing.
I write, because it brings me joy, and I love sharing my wit with others. Hence, I’ve given it away for free, here, and previously on Facebook. I probably could stand to make a fair bit of money from what I write.
**shrug!**
Coincidence or not, it chafes my ass and upsets me when I see other local authors, having EXTREMELY SIMILAR content (to that of my own) published, weeks/months after I’ve already shared MY original, gifted content with people. Those authors are being PAID for what they’ve had published, and receive professional accolades for their work.
I have received not a penny, but praise & encouragement from friends, relatives, and strangers who love what I so generously GIVE to people to read.
Something’s not write right, here, folks!
I wonder if there shall be any “open letters” written & published by those two aforementioned columnists. You know, something similar to my Mark Darcy, penis, Jake Ryan, and vagina letters?
You can bet that I shall be watching & reading local columns with great interest. To those of you living within Vancouver, following my blog (or back from Facebook): I hope you’ll keep your eyes peeled for “coincidentally” similar content, too!
Maybe my hot, new look should be coincidentally copied/posted to the local papers, too? “Yahoo Serious-chic”?
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