Only Partly Uncensored

Disclaimer v.3

In Uncategorized on October 26, 2014 at 1:04 pm

I’ve learned the hard way that nothing, not even an anonymous online blog, is really safe in this day and age of socially-acceptable internet stalking.

That being said, if nothing is safe, then certainly nothing is sacred. So I needed a disclaimer, since I’m republishing a lot of my old posts, painfully slowly, after scanning each for content, and inserting the text [edited for inappropriate exmarital referential content] where necessary. Here it is:

To begin, if you are not over the age of majority in your current location, you have no business being on this page without parental consent. And I mean real, informed consent. Not, “Hey, Mom, can I check out this femme blog?” I mean, “Hey, Mom, I want to read this chick’s blog but she says you should read it first.” Or, if not Mom, then whomever is legally responsible for you until your current location’s laws says you can decide stuff like this for yourself. I mean it. If you click on any page beyond this first one, you’re certifying that you are legally an adult and therefore someone in charge has randomly decided you’re mature enough for adult content.

Credit (because someone else had to come up with this kind of boilerplate):

This (everything beginning with the word “Credit” in the line immediately above) document was (mostly) created using a Contractology template available at All text in red was either edited, or inserted wholesale, by Jolie because she didn’t want to only include what was originally provided, or because she didn’t like the originally provided formatting. She’s a pain-in-the-ass-control-freak like that.

No Warranties (because I never promised you a damn thing anyway, and am an expert on precisely nothing, not even my own stuff):

This blog/website is provided “as is” without any representations or warranties, express or implied. Joliesse, aka her real-life name which has not ever been published here, aka Jolie, and hereafter Jolie, makes no representations or warranties in relation to this website or the information and materials provided on this website.

Without prejudice to the generality of the foregoing paragraph, Jolie does not warrant that:

  • this website will be constantly available, or available at all or in part; or
  • the information on this website is complete, true, accurate, or non-misleading.

Nothing on this website constitutes, or is meant to constitute, advice of any kind. [If you require advice in relation to any [legal, financial, or medical] matter, you should consult an appropriate professional. I am neither appropriate nor a professional. Consider yourself warned.]

Limitations of Liability (because it can’t all be my fault, all the time, contrary to popular opinion):

Jolie will not be liable to you (whether under the law of contract, the law of torts, or otherwise) in relation to the contents of, or use of, or otherwise in connection with, this website:

  • for any direct loss;
  • for any indirect, special, or consequential loss;
  • for any business losses, loss of revenue, income, profits, or anticipated savings, loss of contracts or business relationships, loss of reputation or goodwill, or loss or corruption of information or data.

These limitations of liability apply even if Jolie has been expressly advised of the potential loss. Proceed at your own risk, in other words.

Exceptions (because the only absolutes in life are death, taxes, change, and atrocious misquoting for reasons of personal writing style):

Nothing in this website/blog disclaimer will exclude or limit any warranty implied by law that it would be unlawful to exclude or limit; and nothing in this website disclaimer will exclude or limit Jolie’s liability in respect of any:

  • death or personal injury caused by Jolie’s negligence;
  • fraud or fradulent misrepresentation on the part of Jolie; or
  • matter which it would be illegal or unlawful for Jolie to exclude or limit, or to attempt or purport to exclude or limit, its liability.

Reasonableness (because you have a choice, and clicking through to the rest of the blog is a choice, whether you want it to be all my fault or not):

By using this blog/website, you agree that the exclusions and limitations of liability set out in this website disclaimer are reasonable.

If you do not think they are reasonable, you must not use this website/blog. In other words, proceed at your own risk.

Other Parties (because no one else could possibly be responsible for me; I’m a grownup):

You accept that, as a limited liability entity, Jolie has an interest in limiting the personal liability of its officers and employees. You agree that you will not bring any claim personally against Jolie’s officers and employees in respect of any losses you suffer in connection with the blog/website.

Without prejudice to the foregoing paragraph, you agree that the limitations of warranties and liability set out in this website disclaimer will protect Jolie’s officers, employees, agents, subsidiaries, successors, assigns, and sub-contractors as well as Jolie. Meaning it’s not at all Rhett or Sharkman’s fault that I’ve somehow pissed you off, because the likelihood of me having officers or any of the other stuff except for “successors and assigns” is right up there with me winning the lottery.

Unenforceable Provisions (because no one, not even the legal geniuses that come up with this kind of stuff, is perfect):

If any provision of this website disclaimer is, or is found to be, unenforceable under applicable law, that will not affect the enforceability of the other provisions of this website disclaimer. Spellcheck and I have doubts as to whether or not “enforceability” is actually a word, but that doesn’t mean that if one part of the above doesn’t work, the rest of it won’t. So concludes the official, aforementioned disclaimer.

Questions or concerns may be directed through the following form. I may or may not answer in a timely fashion, if at all, and that’s no one’s fault except mine, either.



In Surviving on November 6, 2014 at 8:22 am

It’s just insane, how quickly time passes. Monday to Thursday is a blink, and then, before you’ve even registered that three and a half days have flown by, it’s Friday and you have to add another full day to the total count!

I can’t keep track anymore.

It’s impossible to think that it’s been four years since we moved back here, that our fifth anniversary is right around the corner (because six months is right around the corner), that there’s a gaping maw of history behind today. I know I lived through every one of those days. I was there, obviously. But what on earth has happened?

My grandmother told me once, when I was young, that the days drag on, but the years fly by. I think she was only half right. I think that everything flies by. You get so consumed by doing the next thing that needs doing, the seconds and minutes and hours just vanish. You think there’s all the time in the world to accomplish Task A. Then you get distracted by Task B, which comes up from nowhere and is so infinitely more pressing. Before you know it, Task A has fallen by the wayside, and it’s just too late to pick it up again.

Or maybe that’s just me, and an optical illusion generated by a semi-twisted mind.

Sharkman brought home some kind of evil stomach virus on Tuesday and then shared it with the household, which had me incapacitated and unable to think all of yesterday. Today is Thursday – Thursday, can you imagine – and my entire week seems out the window.

It’s finally cooling off and turning into what passes for fall here. The leaves don’t change colors; they just drop from the trees. The sun shifts position just enough to change the color of the skies, and reduce the temperature to something that approximates a change in season. This will last for three weeks, maybe, and then we’ll be into freezing temperatures and blustering winds that peel the skin and leach the heat from your bones. Before we know it, Christmas will be on us, and then New Year, and then birthdays and Valentine’s Day and the madness of the Little League pre-season.

What a strange cycle to be caught in.


In Identity on November 3, 2014 at 9:54 am

I must be entering that stage of my life where one reevaluates everything. It’s not that a fire has gone out, exactly, more that the center of heat  has shifted to someplace that I can’t quite locate.

I don’t get all lit up about issues of gender and identity anymore. I’m too busy with a hundred other, more mundane, everyday things to spend hours meandering through who I am, and who you are, and what the words we use to label ourselves mean. I love writing; I love my blog. I just don’t have anything to read down from the pulpit, most mornings.

Having been home since August with this absurd, busted-up knee, I’ve lost any sense of connection to the outside world. I’m consumed with Sharkman’s homework, and Scouting, and issues that have more to do with being a nearly-middle-aged daughter than I am anything going on in the national news. Having gone into an involuntary hibernation, I find myself blinking at the bright lights at the out-of-doors, when I happen to be out-of-doors.

It’s all very strange, to think I used to thrive in online debate and interaction and flirtation. To remember how intensely, emotionally invested I was in my career, in my own ambition and need to prove myself.

I write these odd, reflective meanderings not with a purpose, or to make a point, but to put words on a screen. It’s a familiar habit, and comforting in a way, to post and to send the thoughts flying into the ether.

I crochet, for god’s sake. Thread and hook and counting and coming out with a hat, or scarf, or potholder. I spend more time looking at patterns than I should admit.

I drink coffee until it’s too late in the morning, and then I switch to water. No more coke-and-a-smoke between meetings or ledger reviews.

I buy fresh flowers for the kitchen pass at the grocery store.

Two weeks from today, I’m most likely headed back to the same job I left in August, but nothing about that is at all the same. My absence was at first shocking, then inconvenient, and has evolved, it seems, to something approaching intolerable. I’m less concerned about that than I expected. If it doesn’t work out, if I’m pushed into another position because my recovery outlived the formulaic and allowable twelve-week recovery period, then  something else will come along. If I’ve learned nothing else in the last five years, I have definitely learned that something else will come along. Probably not what you wanted or hoped for, but something that will keep the wolves at bay.

My central problem is that I’ve always been a little too maverick to just go along as expected, plodding through a job every day to come home and plod through a family life. But not quite maverick enough to chuck it all, risk it all, and make something new and my own. And now I’m just a little too old, with a little too much riding on my every day choices. Sharkman’s too old for me to take one last great gamble, but too young for me to stop being his mother and start over on my own life. The one thing I never expected from the high-wire act that is parenthood, is that the wire gets thinner and less well-anchored as the days go by. The net shrivels away to nothing as adolescence approaches, as they get to the age where they actually remember the things that happen to you as a family.

The age where they notice when your most commonly repeated response is, “It is what it is, and this is what you do.” And where they might just ask you what that means.

Maybe someday, I’ll have an epiphany and actually be able to answer him.


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