The Stars and the Cookie Jar

Jesus fracking Christ, who fracking Metafiltered me while I slept?

Well, it was good for a laugh. Or something. Now I'm going to slither off to hide under our bed and have a panic attack.

However, since I can never, never let well enough alone:

• Where did I once use racist, sexist, xenophobic or classist language?
• It was not a post to elicit sympathy. There are better causes that need sympathy, or rather, empathy. In fact, today is World AIDS Day. Skip going to Starbucks and put that $5 in an envelope and send it to your favourite AIDS research fund, hospice or meals program. It was a post to all the actual-people-whom-I-know who expected to hear from me hours before they did, and who deserved an explication.
• It was originally a locked post. However, I have never locked a post about what happened to me when I was younger, so I figured.
• Yes, it is weak on detail and physical description. But there are some things you hold back from the large public fish tank that is the internet. There were comments made and descriptions noted that are private.
• I call my beloved my beloved all the time. In usage. It beats the pants off  'baby', if you ask me.
• Of course it's all about me. It's my LiveJournal, you bunch of wankers.
• If you don't know the backstory, and can't be arsed to scan six entries down, don't make assumptions. This is a personal journal, directed at my usual readership of, like, 6.5 people and three cats.
• Of course the entry had a certain tone to it. It was written hunched-over in the airport just after a panic attack. And I am a writer; it's my profession. If a journalist, G-d forbid, should get raped,  she or he would describe it publicly in the most keen and polished possible tones. It is, believe it or not, a coping mechanism.

Now bang off.