Trash.

Yes, that is a wine opener, and candle, peanut butter, and tomatoes you see. 

Why is there a picture of Jo Malone perfume on this silly blog? It is purely for me. I am in the up-to-my-elbow purge right now of clittery-cluttery junk. I have too much stuff. This perfume, a tangy, tart blend of tangerine and peach, was purchased for me, in real time, by my mother in a posh store, a Neiman-Marcus in fact, years ago, approximately five years ago. It is barely used. Why? Because when I was trying them on, I tried this one and a more orange-y one, my mom and sister liked this one more, so home it went. It stinks, though. It has an acridity that punches my nostrils. The orange and honey-blossom one would have been much better. Alas, I have had birthday gift buyer’s remorse hence, and when considering each and every object in my shack, I answered some hard questions about each thing that I am tossing. Into the garbage it went.

The likelihood of my going back to Neiman-Marcus and getting the other scent is damn near zero. I’m not driving my beat-up truck into the valet parking of this fancy-schmancy shopping mall, trying to explain to the attendant how to twist the broken headlight knob just so, or why it “smells this way” (a heady mixture of spilt coffee, books, picante sauce packets, and Northwestern rain boots). Now, perhaps, someday I’ll stride into N-M, head held high, and say, “Good lady, purveyor of over-priced astringent and matching couple submarines, tally up a bottle of your finest Jo Malone stinky spray, toute suite!”

Maybe.

Stay with me.

While we’re all making decisions about what to keep and what to let go, I appreciate Bear’s credo on a “no asshat policy.” I wish getting rid of the Punks and Trolls of Azeroth were as easy as tossing a stinky bottle of tangerine and peach overtone toilet water. (Didn’t that make you giggle when you were kid? Toilet water? Because although it’s fancy French “toilette,” meaning, “getting dressed,” it’s still toilet water!?)

Given the choices between kicking, ignoring, or deserter timers, there needs to be the “Asshat Option.” A button we can push when this current mix is just not what we want. I have called for many times for the partner-quests, the trio quests, the things we can do that do not require five people, five strangers, to be forced into a situation. It’s like being trapped in an elevator with someone who just ate a Taco Bell full-meal deal, a collicky baby, and a lynx with a bad attitude. Not fun. That is an emergency situation, a crisis, it’s trauma, and to seek it out, hell, seek it out?! Pay $15 a month for this experience?! No– please. These adreneline-inducing-fight-or-flight lizard brain screaming experiences, well–they stink.

Blizzard: Consider, please providing a valor point and justice point scale for trio or partner work. Please consider giving mass ressurection and summoning for all guilds. Please consider mini-raids for those of us who also try to meet other responsibilities (I still feel guilty and the worry that my new guild are going to reject me–players are back from vacation, and I’m sure I’m about to be benched–it feels like I’m about to get sacked.)

Quit locking me in that elevator with the lynx. He smells like peaches and despair.

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