None of which has anything to do with the (English) pique I'm experiencing right now, which if your SAT-studying is still fresh in your mind, you will recall that:
a. hungry: famished
b. sheep: wool
c. sad: happy
d. donald: duck
The correct answer here is a. I am not angry, per se, but I am piqued. And because you are all my dogged and loyal followers, I shall now explain to you why.
Remember this crazy formula:
(desire to write about topic X number of hours slept)/ (interestingness of blog - time of day) + how many cups of coffee drunk so far/ desire for exposure - 2x laziness quotient.that I posted here where I talked about how to decide whether or not I would write a guest post for someone?
If that is equal to or greater than the total number of legs my friend's four cats have (hint, not 16) times my favorite number minus the number of times I've been called "preciosa" that day, then I will certainly write.
Well let me add one swooping overarching end run around the whole thing.
If you ever so much as dream of scraping my content, or stealing something I have written and posting it on your very popular travel website, or have done or are considering doing the same to any of the very vast number of truly talented and over worked and often underpaid people that make a living from writing about travel or anything else, well then, a guest post?
That is the sound of my jaw clattering to the ground. In the words of Mamaj, (who I called because who doesn't want to call their mother when someone wrongs them, on the playground, at school or on the internet)
So it is, Mamaj, so it is. The copied article has been deleted, with little more than an FYI, and this is where the arrow really started moving on the pique-o-meter.
In other, extremely-related news, I wrote this really nifty article on winetasting in South America and it's getting all kinds of traction and tweets and fun and go Bootsnsall because they rock, and also thanks to every other editor I've ever had, (even that creepy one that looked at nekkid lady pictures at work, because even though he was a perv, he was still a good editor) because they have taught and encouraged me, and even jumped to my defense when warranted (like today).
And if you'd like me to write a guest post, hey, who knows, I just might. But please. Play nice.
Mamaj would want you to.
The party of the first part has responded. I am mostly convinced that it was not entirely his fault, but since I develop, write and post my own content, it is difficult for me to understand exactly how the event in question came to pass. I think this is another sound-off (meta-talk, if you will) bubbling to the surface, about how making yourself a brand name with a big team in my mind takes you out of the running for "blogger" of the year, month, week, or time period of your choice. A blog is written by a human or a dedicated and equal-sharing group of humans (at least in my mind). Alas, the world may never know (just like with that tootsie roll pop question. Did anyone actually like those?)
I remain perplexed and not undisgruntled (bet you didn't know English could prefix-stack like that. Mine can). Thanks for sticking it through to the end. I wish I could give you a scooby snack. Or give me those hours of the day back.