(The following is not tv related - its from a non tv related blog (So Slight) and I thought my readers here might appreciate it)

I'm not exactly Miss Manners myself, but there are a few golden rules that I feel not enough people pay attention to. For instance:

When you are walking on a track where other people who are a) elderly, b) running, or c) adhering to the rule of staying in the lanes marked for bicycle or pedestrian, it would be a good idea to choose either to pay attention to your dog who is roaming all over the place on his fifty foot lead, or to get off your cell phone so that you can hear me coming up behind you and I don't have to stop short when the dog wraps its leash around my leg. Or, if that happens anyway, perhaps an apology for nearly blowing out my knee would be nice.

Your baby stroller? Yes, I understand why you have it. However, it would be put to better use if you were using it to carry the baby you have slung over your shoulder instead of all the shopping bags from your trek across the mall. Please note, this only bothers me when the mall is crowded and you repeatedly ram me in the back of the ankle like you think you have a cattle prod. (On the occasion that the baby is in the stroller as you attempt to cripple me, I think the baby would appreciate it if you stopped as well.)

Speaking of cattle. There is a concrete barrier around the parking lot where I work. It's about thigh-height, so not easily just stepped over, which is the point. There are several openings that can be walked through. It is a fence. Every time I see you heave yourself over it in your business suit (or skirt, occasionally), all I can think is that even cows know what fences are for.

Grocery store. When you are bent at the waist, perusing all the many brands of ketchup while your cart sits several feet away, effectively blocking the rest of the aisle, please do not huff at me when I ding your cart with mine. I would have really preferred to hit you instead, but I really just needed the peanut butter sans drama.

Dear Men: It would be okay if you held the door for me on days when I'm wearing something other than a short skirt, especially when you're just a very short distance away. I'm not insistent upon this, since I'm perfectly capable, but when I'm carrying two giant boxes of office supplies and am clearly struggling (I'm pretty sure I could never be accused of having much more upper body strength than a sickly hamster, and it shows) it might be nice to at least let me shove my foot in there so the door doesn't have to close and latch before I get there.

Yes, I would describe myself as easily annoyed. I think I earn a certain right to be though, as I'm hyper conscious of these things and the constant thought of wanting to not annoy others has made me timid and unassuming (in person more than in writing, clearly). Therefore, instead of pointing out these things as they happen, I write open letters on the internet, on the off chance that someone will google "the purpose of fences" or "why do single girls glare at my baby? It's Christmas!"

Passive aggression has never had a better forum than the blog.

All I have to say is SOMEBODY PINCH ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHEDON AND DUSHKU RETURN TO TV

Am I dead? Is this heaven?

I always thought that the hardest conversation I'd ever have with my son would be the sex talk.

I was wrong. For today my son came home from school and asked me what a terrorist is.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I tried to explain to my small child what a terrorist is. He looked up at me with his trusting, innocent face, blue eyes clouded with fear and confusion.

"But why would anyone want to kill another person, Mama? Don't they have mommies? Won't their mommies and daddies be mad at them? Won't they feel sad that they killed someone's child?"

It was a heartbreaking question, intensified by the fact that for the first time, I had no answers for him. How could I explain to my kind, compassionate child that their is true evil in the world? And that not everyone, parent or not is askind and compassionate as he?

One of the hardest and saddest lessons a child must inevitably learn is that the shelter of a mother's arm can only protect you from so much and for so long. My generation was lucky. Most of us weren't made to learn that lesson by outside forces. In fact, the word "terrorist" didn't become a part of my vocabulary until around the age of ten - and then only because I was a voracious reader.

Drew still doesn't understand. And I'm not inclined to explain it further. He'll know in time. For now, I'm going to let him hold on, for a little while longer, to the notion that every person, deep down,is inherently good.

The horrors of reality will come soon enough.