Category Archives: Complaining about something*

I don’t consider myself to be a great writer.

I think I’m a good writer, but I know that I still have so many things I could improve on. I think that I sometimes have great ideas, but that it’s not always consistant.

That’s why I was shocked when I found out that another website had blatantly stolen ten posts that I had recently written.

But let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

WordPress has this neat little feature on the dashboard that lets me sort out comments as they come in. Most are approved automatically, while ones that seem a little “spammy” are flagged for me to have a look at.

It also has a “ping back” feature that tells me when another website links to my blog or one of my posts. I love the feature as it lets me block out spammy comments and I can see who is “talking” about my blog. It looks like this:

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Last Friday I got a ping back. As I was reading through the blurb WordPress gives me, I thought:

“Gee, that writing sounds a lot like mine…”

So, I clicked it. The link sent me to this website:

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As I scrolled down, I realized that every title on the landing page were from posts that I had written recently.

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I still wasn’t terribly concerned as I thought that maybe this person had written on the same topics that I had and was using me as a reference post. I fully expected to see my work credited inside her posts.

Nothing.

It was my work, word for word. She had simply added “Fashion Shoes:” in front of each title, removed my pictures and deleted my signature. There was absolutely no indication on any of “her” posts that she hadn’t written them.

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I couldn’t believe it. I showed the Hubster as soon as he came home, and he began investigating how to report her website.

Upon further investigation I realized that she had taken 10 of my most recent posts, and that every post had been added on the same day… which leads me to believe that they were stolen en masse. It doesn’t even feel like a real blog, it just seems to have that appearance.

I began ranting and posting about the plagiarizer on my Facebook page, and tried to figure out what my options were. I knew I could just leave it and ignore it as her website doesn’t appear to get a lot of traffic, but I was just so… offended. I try so hard to make sure I credit anyone whose work I may be referring to in a post, and I just expected that others would extend the same courtesy.

Even if my writing is not perfect, it is mine. It’s personal, and it’s part of me.

So, I decided to do something about it.

I found that the author had listed an email address on her “contact me” page, and I drafted an email outlining my disgust at her blatant plagiarism and demanded that she remove my posts from her website.

(I also included a definition of plagiarism for her own personal reference. ha.)

A few hours later I received the following reply:

“I am sorry, please let me know the URL of the posts which are your content, so i can remove them.”

…seriously?

Have you copied so much material from others that you can’t even identify which ones are mine?!? I responded immediately and included the titles and links for each post she stole.

It’s been nearly 24 hours, and I’m still waiting for her to remove them.

I’m just so… disgusted by this. I know they say that imitation is the highest form of flattery, but I’m not quite sure what this person’s motives are. The website doesn’t even look real, and really now–are you also 28 weeks along in your pregnancy and worried that you killed your curly hair?

Ugh.

I’ll keep you posted… fingers crossed that she removes them soon!

(If you really want to see the website, the link is posted on my Facebook page.)

(via: http://www.dreamstreetmarketingblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/lost-luggage.jpg)

I love Thanksgiving.

I had been looking forward to the long weekend for weeks, and when the clock finally struck 3pm on Friday, I was busting to leave work and get on the road to see my family.

The Hubster actually beat me home from work, and was busy gathering all the supplies he’d need for his planned hunting trip the next day. I offered to pack our duffel bags so that we could leave quickly.

Forty-five minutes later our bags were packed and we were ready to go. He was busy organizing everything into the back of our truck, so I did the final walk through the house to make sure we were set to go.

As the major highway to my parent’s house is often a parking lot on Friday evenings after work, we decided to take a back way up north. It took a little longer, but it was such a beautiful drive. We took our time and enjoyed all the beautiful colors, and even stopped for dinner at a little chip truck before finally making our way into B-town.

We spent a couple of hours visiting with my parents, but by 10pm I could barely keep my eyes open. My mom bid us goodnight, and went upstairs to get ready for bed. The Hubster was making trips to and from the truck to collect his hunting gear, so I asked him to grab my bag on his way in.

Hubs: “…I didn’t see your bag in the truck.”

At first I thought he was joking around, so I laughed a little and asked him again to go look.

He wasn’t kidding.

I could feel the panic rising in my throat as I flew out the front door to inspect the truck for myself. Sure enough, the bed was empty and there was nothing behind our seats.

It hit me like a wave: I had nothing.

So, I did what any self-respecting, overly-emotional pregnant woman would do: I laid my head into my arms on the hood of the truck and started to sob. Giant, body-shaking sobs. In my driveway.

The Hubster rushed to my side to collect me and help me into the house. He immediately transferred into (loving) boss mode and instructed me to get upstairs to catch my mom before she went to bed and tell her my plight.

Still sobbing like a crazy woman, I waited for my mom to finish brushing her teeth before knocking on her door. She immediately went into Mom-mode and hugged me until I could get myself together. We sat down and tried to piece together what I had with me and what I needed.

The short version? I needed everything.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Somehow I forgot everything… except my shoes. So, after inventorying my things, I had my purse, the clothes on my back, a coat and a bag of shoes.

Mom went to work, and in less than 5 minutes I had pajamas, a toothbrush, and clothes to wear for the next day. Unfortunately I had decided to wear my contacts that day, so I had no glasses or contact case. Luckily the Hubs had some spare contact solution in his shaving bag, and my mom had two big spoons that I was able to use for my contacts that night.

You’d think this herculean effort made by my mom would cheer me up a little, but I was so distraught. (And extremely overtired. ha.)

You see, I’m a “what if” packer. I pack well, but I also pack for a number of scenarios. I hate not being prepared for something. For this particular trip, I had clothes packed for warm and colder weather, an outfit for church, comfy clothes for if I wasn’t feeling well, and an outfit to wear for the photos the Hubster and I planned to take for our Christmas letters. I had all my vitamins, as well as my Tums in case my heartburn flared up. My computer. The camera. Pajamas.

And then there’s all the little things I take for granted on a daily basis: glasses, make-up, face wash, hair straightener, hair brush, tooth brush, deodorant and a host of other products I use on a daily basis to make myself feel like a human being.

I had nothing. And for me, not having my own things was so stressful.

When I finally crawled blindly into bed (my contacts were already in their spoons), the Hubster held me close and offered to drive back the next morning to pick up my things for me. I loved him so much in that moment–but I knew I couldn’t ask him to waste the time, gas and money to make such an unnecessary trip. I knew it was up to me to suck it up and not let this ruin our weekend.

When the morning finally dawned, he crept out early for his hunting trip after I assured him one last time that I’d survive without my things. I tried to sleep a little longer after he left, but as I’d barely slept all night it just wasn’t happening.

By the time I opened my bedroom door on Saturday morning my mom was already bustling to get me organized. Peeah, having heard of my situation, called my mom early to let her know that she had left a bag of maternity pants for me at the house a few days earlier and instructed my mom on where to find them.

So, armed with pants that fit and a shirt from my mom, I trekked over to my new favourite store: Walmart. I grabbed a cart and an hour and $130 later I had the bare necessities that I needed to get through the next three days. Thanks to the wonder of one-stop shopping, I found a couple of maternity shirts, basic toiletries and make-up, and some new vitamins.

(And a cute pair of black flats. For my emotional well-being.)

I felt much better, but it still felt so weird to not have my things with me. I didn’t realize how much I love and depend on the regularity and familiarity of my morning and evening routines. It felt a bit like I was camping… but even when I camp I take everything with me. haha!

All in all, it turned out to be a great weekend. My hair wasn’t straight and my eyes burned from wearing my contacts too much, but it really made me grateful for what I did have: a husband who held me and loved me through my no clothes induced sob-fest, a thoughtful sister who just happened to leave a bag of maternity pants at my mom’s house for me, a loving mother who offered me anything and everything I needed, and for Walmart and its one-stop shopping glory to give me everything else I needed to survive the weekend.

I think I’m pretty lucky. :)

Oh, and when we finally made it home on Monday afternoon my perfectly packed bag was sitting waiting for me on the bottom step of our landing in the hallway. The Hubster had taken everything from the hallway out to the truck, but hadn’t checked the stairs.

And here’s the kicker: as I was locking the door to leave on Friday, we realized that we forgot to grab a white collared shirt for the Hubs. He went out to start the truck while I ran upstairs to grab it…

…right past my bag.

*face palm*

Remember that scene from Arachnophobia where the doctor comes home and finds the spiders crawling all over his walls?

Let me help:

Yeah. Gross, right? I hate spiders, but love the film–and that scene gives me the creepy crawlies every single time I watch it. It’s gross, but because I know it’s a cheesy 1990′s movie I can handle it.

UNTIL IT HAPPENS IN MY HOUSE.

…sort of.

So, I’ve had the flu. Sunday was awful, yesterday was mildly better, and today I hoped it was gone–only to be beaten back down again by a new wave of symptoms. Despite this, much of my energy is back and I decided to actually attempt making dinner tonight.

I haven’t really been in the kitchen much the past few days. Aside from the occasional pilgrimage to the fridge to refill my apply juice cup or get a new can of gingerale, my time there has been limited.

Today I decided to remedy that. I pulled out some ribs from my freezer, and prepared some broccoli and potatoes to go with it. As I was waiting for my oven to preheat, I was wandering in and out of the kitchen watching the news on TV. On one of my trips back in I happened to look up.

I noticed several little spots along the edge of my ceiling, so I decided to take a closer look.

That’s when I realized that they were all moving.

I jumped back and surveyed my whole kitchen ceiling–there were approximately 50 visible spiders crawling across it. Apparently a spider laid an egg sack above my new kitchen cupboards and they had just hatched and come out for a stroll.

Thankfully the Hubster was home, and he came to my rescue with our spider gun: the vacuum. He extended the hose and killed / sucked them all up while I pointed from a distance. After he had removed all the ones we could find (including the ones that were crawling all over my pretty curtains) he retreated to the office while I finished preparing dinner.

Before the timer went, I think I took out another 10 – 15 spiders.

Granted, they weren’t nearly as big (or deadly / cheesy) as the ones seen in the film, but it still completely grossed me out. Tomorrow my house will undergo a deep, deep clean. As far as I’m concerned, spiders are trespassing on my property and I will use deadly force.

I’ve checked the ceiling constantly all night, and I haven’t seen any more since my last attack with the vaccuum.

I’ll keep you posted.