As is the custom now in the age of immediate information and instant response, viewers found the restaurant’s Facebook page and posted mostly negative comments. Most business owners choose – wisely – not to respond to haters and trolls online. They know if you just go about your merry way and leave it alone, it will pass.

But guess what these two knuckleheads did? That’s right: They picked a fight with the Internet. She and her hubby melted down on Facebook, Reddit, and everywhere else something bad was said about themselves and/or their restaurant. Now they’re Internet celebs for all the wrong reasons; famous not for their food, business acumen, or sparkling personalities, but for their delusions of grandeur.

I have to thank them for the laughs, though. No, I didn’t do any of the trolling, I just didn’t think anyone could bring the crazy more than that Xtian lady on Wife Swap a few years ago.

Kudos to Gordon Ramsey for getting as far as he did with the borderline personality disorder lady and her cuckhold husband.

That’s entertainment.

I mean no one walks around with a tag indicating they like spanking, bondage, and/or feet; you have to actually talk to people if you want to have your fantasies realized. It’s imperative to be able to strike up conversations with total strangers to see if your desires match in the slightest.

Even in a safe, helpful environment, it’s unbelievable how hard people think this is to do. At a fetish ball last night, for every one who struck up a genuine conversation, there were three who followed me around like puppies, always looking as if they were ready to say something, then backing off.

I don’t find that type of behavior attractive, not even in a sub. Step up or go away. I need strong, independent partners, not pets. And you’re more likely to get what you want if you ask for it, right?

Right.

So when I go to such places, I wander and watch, swat the occasional moth away from the flame, and seek out the one – there’s almost always just one – who doesn’t mind getting just a little burned around the edges.

All women have hoops. Mine are just on fire.

Oops, I did it again.

Our then roommate, who was also a professional dominatrix at the time, wanted to attend as well, but she had other plans before and after the convention. We agreed she would drive my Toyota and I would go in my then-new-to-me Audi.

On the way across Arizona, I realized my car was having problems. BIG problems. Automatic shifting was an issue; I had to resort to manual shifting to get her up to speed. As I continued on, I kept in touch with my love and made arrangements to see the first Audi dealer I could find right away.

Of course, the news was bad: I needed a new transmission. STAT. But knowing I didn’t really have to drive for the weekend – conventions tend to be contained to a host hotel – I nursed the car to the venue and checked myself and our roommate into our room. I was looking forward to a relaxing time and worrying about my vehicle troubles on Monday.

Then all hell broke loose: I asked her for the key to the Toyota so I could run a couple of errands.

My intention was to go to a convenience store for some weekend supplies and grab dinner. To go, even. Not to take the car from her, not to return home in it, not to leave her stranded. To run a 15-30 minute errand.

You’d think I’d asked her to kill her own mother.

She not only refused, she stamped her feet, yelled and screamed, and generally acted like a two year old. I had to physically fight her for the keys. To my own car.

Yet “But you told me I could drive it!” and other nonsensical, unreasonable, immature babble isn’t why I decided to take my car back at that moment, nor is it why my love and I kicked her to the curb after the trip. There was a long line of other behaviors which had put her on probation as far as we were concerned; she merely provided the final straw that weekend.

I got calls and comments from other people at the convention saying she was going around whispering nasty things about me. Luckily I knew quite a few people in the scene who refused to believe her and who instead came to me to share/clear up the gossip. When the convention was over, my love and I summarily picked the roommate off of us like a tick.

You can be an irrational jackass all you want, but the moment you mess with my reputation, you are OUT.

Fast forward to this past week: I arranged a trip to Los Angeles to spend a little time with family. When I searched for other interesting things to do, I discovered the 10th anniversary festivities for Domcon.

You bet your sweet ass I’m going.

ALONE.

Be seeing you.

4 skinless, boneless chicken breasts
1/2 tsp curry powder (red or yellow)
3/4 tsp red pepper flakes
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp paprika
1/8 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground turmeric
2 tbsp water
garlic powder

Mix all dry ingredients except the garlic with water until smooth. Rub mixture on chicken breasts, place on a plate, sprinkle with garlic powder, and allow to marinate for 20-30 minutes. Grill breasts for 8 minutes each side or until interior temperature reaches 165° (grilling time is for high-altitude; sea level may cook a bit faster).

Juicy, Eastern-flavored goodness.

That’s billion, with a b.

Best part? It’s Republican (so-called) fiscal conservatives pushing for the money to be spent.

Next time someone bitches to you about the national debt, or how Obama is outspending any other previous President (another favorite lie of the right), please send them to this video from The Colbert Report.

Then make them explain why even fiscal conservatives can’t manage to help us save a few BILLION dollars here and there. And if their argument is “We had to save those jobs,” tell them they’re full of it. All the jobs put together on this project are not worth a product the Army has stated, loudly and clearly, it does not want and does not need. To push it through anyway means it’s a welfare program for workers who would otherwise be unemployed.

Welfare is something conservatives are vehemently against. I mean they keep calling such programs “entitlements” and “handouts” and generally ensuring we all know sucking from the government teat, no matter how dire our straits, is wrong, Wrong, WRONG.

I realize I’m railing against something that happens all the time in Washington and has for decades, but dammit, when does it stop?

Don’t answer that.

It never ends.

John Mulaney
Chelsea Peretti
The Birthday Boys
Amy Schumer (would have seen her this past weekend, but show was canceled)
Kumail Nanjiani
Rory Scovel
Kyle Kinane (three times)
Moshe Kasher
June Diane Raphael
Matt Jones
Megan Amram
Jerrod Carmichael
Thomas Middleditch
Issa Rae
Jason Mantzoukas (at taping of The Jeselnik Offensive)
Jon Daly
Julie Klausner
Jonah Ray
Hannibal Buress
Garfunkel and Oates (twice)
James Adomian
Chris Gethard
Pete Holmes
Michael Che
Megan Ganz
Cristela Alonzo
Mike O’Brien
Joe Mande
Deon Cole
Tig Notaro
Paul Rust
Bo Burnham
Harris Wittels
Paula Pell
Nick Thune

That’s 35 of 50 … shit, it may have been easier to list the ones I don’t know. But now that I’ve discovered them, I’ve got research to do.

This will do nothing for my productivity.

My particular nerd-dom knows no bounds.

Another friend – someone who, to the best of my knowledge, doesn’t know the ill one – posted the following to Google+ not long after I read the news:

You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

~ Aaron Freeman

These thoughts are not specifically for my friend who is ill; if they provide any comfort to her at all, I’m happy for it, but I’m sharing them here and now mostly for myself.

This is my comfort – science, not G-d.

This is my way – write, don’t speak.

These are my memories – photons bounced and neurons fired.

These are my tears – measurable particles added to the energy of the cosmos.

Every man and woman is a star.

Oh. Tomorrow is my birthday.

I had completely spaced it.

When I say that birthdays don’t mean much to me, this is exactly what I mean, but how did I manage to forget my own? I mean, who does that?

Is this an age thing? Like when one gets to the late 40s, do you just eventually forget your own birthday? Not a particularly depressing thought to me, I’m just curious if this is a thing or not.

On the other hand, it’s a sad fact that I couldn’t guess exactly what age most of my closest friends actually are – a person’s age has never made much difference to me, unless that age is under 18 – so has my indifference to adding another 1 to other people’s chronologies finally applied to my own as well?

Whatever the case, I’m kind of glad I forgot. At least now I know I hold myself to the same low standard I do everyone else in my life.

Been a week for it.

Still here?

Why?

I haven’t been logging on to Facebook, so I missed two big events: The marriage of one friend and the birth of twins for another.

These are not acquaintances, but Friends. People whom I’ve known for years – decades, even – and who have seen me at my best and my worst. Folks who’ve spent days and days at my home. Friends I love and, though we live in different cities, I cherish. Yet I haven’t sent either a congratulations or other note of encouragement.

I feel like an ass.

But, since they are such decent and long-term Friends, perhaps they know I’m not ignoring them, that I’ll get to it soon … ?

Wait, did you hear that?

I think it’s Emily Post spinning in her grave …

Shit. On it, Ms. Post!