Ladies and gentlemen, I love you all dearly…well, most of you, anyway. But I find myself yet again feeling physically and emotionally drained for the multipleth time in the last several days.
And I find myself passing my typical midnight deadline with nary a word published. That shall not continue, I assure you. I LIKE having my posts ready to automatically publish at midnight. It’s neat and clean and predictable, which is virtually unlike me in every way now that I think about it.
And yeeeees, I’m going to talk about “it” again, and I’m not sure as I write this just how much I’m going to say about it. Suffice it to say that I have had more traffic to my blog in the last couple of days than I have EVER had before, and it’s all because of something that truly has nothing to do with me. At least not in any conventional way.
I don’t know why or how, but I somehow became a central point in the whole shitstorm nexus that has become the Fab/Turnbaby Event…because let’s face it, that’s what it’s become, an EVENT. It’s MORE than a happening, I fucking guarantee you that. I don’t believe that I have ever seen such monumental publicity and such ungaugeably huge fervor outside the mainstream media. And I’m not using hyperboles lightly here.
Yesterday, despite his earlier post that he’d be taking a hiatus for a while, Fab posted on his blog. You can read the post and the subsequent comments for yourself, of course, but to say that a huge brouhaha arose from that post is comparable to saying that a blue whale has a somewhat moderate pecker size.
I have YET to catch up on blogs from my 3-day Internet absence, so I’m sure I haven’t even touched the surface of what’s out there in the blogiverse. But from the posts I HAVE read, and the comments I’ve read, I am truly dumbfounded. TRULY. Most of all, I think I’m shocked and appalled at my own personal investment into the issue. I don’t know WHY I care so fucking much that I spent yesterday eating, breathing, and belching the Fab/Turnbaby twister.
I spent WELL OVER – and as Belinda is keen to say, I swear I’m not making this up, you can Google it – NINE HOURS on the phone in the last 24 hours. And that’s including my epic sleeping and nap schedule.
And yes, I took part in the comment storm on aforementioned post. I fully cop to it. I own my shit, no matter how nasty it may be. But I also maintain my stance. I back up every single word I have said about this matter, whether that be my blog posts, my comments to other blog posts, the radio show(s) that have come out the last several days…whatever. I stand behind my words, and I think I proved to a few naysayers that I have not said ANYTHING in ANY of those venues that I would not (and have not) said to Fab and Turnbaby directly.
In fact, I SPOKE with Turnbaby on the phone last night for over 2-1/2 hours. I will NOT be sharing the bulk of what we talked about because that wouldn’t be appropriate. I will say (and I think she’d be comfortable with me saying this) that she is incredibly upset and heartbroken. It is very clear to me (and I had no doubt about this before I spoke to her directly) that her feelings for Fab are sincere and earnest, and she still cares a very great deal for him.
I will say that the press release that was made on Blog Talk Radio was NOT Turnbaby’s doing. She went along with it because that’s what Fab wanted to do. It was there that they announced their engagement. That was on June 1, two weeks ago.
I will say that Turnbaby almost seems to care more about how Fab is doing than her own well-being. She loves him that much. In fact, she’s extremely upset about how people are seeing Fab, and how some people are ridiculing Fab…all this coming from a woman who has in the last 48 hours been called a harlot, a tramp, a whore, and many many worse things than that.
This is the part where I once again feel the need to state my position on something. (As if we’re all not fucking tired enough of my rhetoric to begin with.) These are REAL people involved here. They’re not play-time people, they’re not “The Sims.” Real people, real actions, real emotions. As always, I encourage and I welcome anything and everything anyone has to say. I mean it. You are always welcome at my blog and you’re always welcome to speak up. (Well, except for YOU, maybe.)
Where I DRAW THE LINE (here on MY space, anyway, which is the only place I can truly dictate the terms) is when it starts getting to be a personal attack. It bothers some people whenever there are “anonymous” comments on blogs, but that doesn’t bug me so much. It’s the NAMECALLING I don’t like. And I’m not saying I’m immune to it. I may very well have said something in anger, off the cuff, at times. But AGAIN…and this is from YEARS of way-too-much therapy…say how you FEEL and you can never be wrong. Start everything with “I don’t like” or “I like” or “I’m hurt” or “I’m pissed” or “I’m exhausted.” The “I Statements” really help keep things clear.
And I also want to say this. It’s one thing to slam a particular behavior or decision; it’s another thing entirely to slam a PERSON. To wish someone ill, no matter where you may stand on any of the myriad of issues surrounding this Event, is fucking evil. I seriously hope that those of you trolls who are laughing their asses off at this shit and sending vicious flaming emails to these REAL people get a case of crotchrot that breaks all of historical crotchrot records.
Turnbaby is NOT a whore. She’s not. I am a very good judge of character (most of the time) and I spent a LONG time with her on the phone last night. She’s not a bitch, though I have no doubt that I wouldn’t ever want to cross her, and she doesn’t deserve to be viciously and brutally beaten verbally.
And if you’re reading this and I’ve talked with you at all on the phone or on Jester’s radio show, I’m not talking about YOU. I’m literally talking about trolls, evil little beings that seem to feed on misery and sorrow as if it was the most scrumptious and glorious food ever created. YOU? Yeah, the closest I come to hatred? THAT’S how I feel about you. Go back to your holes and feed on some other lot, will you? And impale yourself on a large spiked and barbed section of rebar. And maybe get anally raped by satan from here until eternity, or until Oprah goes off the air, whichever comes second.
As for those of you that believe that everyone outside of Fab, Turnbaby, and Mrs. Fab has no right to be upset, and certainly has no right to express our feelings and frustrations and anger and every other emotion we’re going through…tough fucking shit. I respectfully disagree with you.
There’s a difference in my mind between readership and friendship. Most of you are READERS of Fab’s, let’s face it. I don’t put myself in that category. I am a fan of Pointless Drivel, yes, but I’m MORE than that. At least I FEEL like I am. I may be wrong about that. That’s in Fab’s hands. Regardless, I am far more emotionally invested in Mr. Fabulous – well, let’s say it, in BRAD, because there IS a difference between Brad and Mr. Fabulous – than a mere READER. I have conversed with Brad, I have exchanged many an email with him over the last several years, we’ve traded stories and blogging advice and he’s always been most kind to me regarding questions I have about Blog Talk Radio…we’ve been on each other’s shows. I wouldn’t do that with ANYONE…I mean, that there are a select few folks I can say that about.
But, dammit, I have feelings and you’re damn right that anything that’s affecting me THIS profoundly (no matter what the rhyme or reason of it) is GOING to be coming out my mouth or my fingertips, and very likely BOTH. However, unlike some people, I am (for the most part) rather cautious and judicious in my remarks. Because, yes, like it or not, my identity extends INTO my blog, into my emails, into my comments, into virtually every aspect of my online life. And because I want to be able to stand behind anything I’m quoted as saying, to say, “Yes, I said that, and I don’t regret it.”
Granted, I’m not always successful at that, but I truly try my best to live up to it. And when I fail (and I do, every day) I’ll always be the first to say, “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”
The shit train needs to stop. I’m not saying it’s going to stop today, or even any time soon. It will cease in and of its own volition, as soon as the next big drama in the blogiverse erupts. And then we’ll all be moving along to a whole new set of drums. After all the dust settles, then the Event will fade away. Except for Brad, Liz, and Linda. They’ll still be there, navelgazing and recovering. And yes, Liz’ spouse, too (I have NOT forgot about him, much as some people think).
But here’s the thing: I KNOW Brad. I KNOW Liz. They are my only connections to this drama. I don’t really know the other parties involved…at *all*. So that’s why 99.9% of my comments are in regards to Brad and Liz. I am unqualified to speak of things of which I do not know. (Yes, I’m entirely aware that this is somewhat ironic, as I don’t KNOW a great deal of things surrounding the Event.) But what I DO know, and that’s mostly how I FEEL about this, well, THAT I feel qualified to talk about.
I just wish that the unintelligent people would shut the fuck up and leave those of us who aren’t and are trying to PROCESS THIS CRAP alone. And for the love of God, if you don’t want to READ the shitstorm, then shut off your damn computer and stay the hell away. Why the hell make yourself miserable?
I just realized that I can’t answer that question myself.