When faced with an awkward situation, I tend to ignore it and hope it goes away as soon as possible. Like last night, when I met blogger and SFist commenter Kay at one of Clemens free booze parties.
I haven't read Kay's blog, and I should probably be more on top of it, but her comments on SFist have been forwarded to me. Like, this one in October:
How about you write your own article, and stop giving Spots undue publicity? She's an untalented hag who gets by solely on her sad obsession :) You are enabling her.
Brock's got by back: Kay, your spots jealousies amuse and tell us all we need to know about you. she'll be thrilled to read your backhanded insult.
But Kay wasn't done. Homegirl hates me:
Maybe if by some unfortunate circumstance I aspired to be a talentless, obsessed and unlucky journalist wannabe, you'd be correct. But I am just annoyed at the brown-nosing and what you're turning this place into. I come here for content, but I find... this. Please remember, as a good editor, that this is SFist. Not Brockist. Bring More Rita please. She continued: A lot of things you say suggest that you just really want to be a woman. This is nothing personal even if I make it sound personal. I just want the SFist that I knew and used to love back. I think a lot of people will agree.
Oh snap. I'm just glad it's not all me who's a talentless, obsessed and unlucky journalist wannabe. She called Brock a woman. Because, I guess being a woman is bad?
Eve couldn't take it anymore. She had to fire back.
Eve: Hey, Kay, thanks for all the tips on what SFist should be about. Hard to believe my co-founders and I managed to run the site for so long without your advice! Brock is so lucky to have you. If only we'd known what an untalented hag Beth was, when we began cross-linking with her personal blog back when we started the site in 2004! I certainly would have discouraged her from being an active commenter on the site for the 2 years I ran the joint. And I never, ever would have been so impressed with her work that I would have hired her to write for us at the Chronicle. At the risk of implying that Brock hasn't brought anything new to SFist, I'd suggest that your fears that Brock is following some horrible new direction might be alleviated by actually familiarizing yourself with the site. Because the SFist you claim you used to know and love, the one where there were no links to Beth or drug jokes? That site never existed, except in your imagination.
What's up? Yeah, that's my boss bitches. Okay, so since this tette-a-tette in the famous SFist comments section, I've been keeping my eyes peeled for this Kay, ready to dive under a table lest I see hear and face her wrath of journalistic integrity.
And last night, there she was!
Eve and I pretended to examine a potted plant as I reminded her about the infamous Kay. "Well, let's go introduce ourselves."
I have found in the time that I've been friends with Eve that she is pretty much afraid of nothing. And will be glad to prove it. We marched ourselves over and I introduced myself.
"Oh, uh. Hi. I'm Beth Spotswood." We shook hands. "And this is my editor, Eve Batey."
"Hi" announced Eve. "You're a regular commenter on SFist. And I believe I've responded to some of your comments."
I was too terrified to remember exactly what Kay said, but it was something along the lines of enjoying stirring shit up. Oh, okay.
I call all kinds of people all kinds of horrible things all kinds of times. So, you know, I guess this is part of the territory. Carole Migden probably wants me dead. But I've found in the realm of bloggers, we tend to stick together. We go to the same events. We know the same people. We're all pretty much friends. In this world of internet nerd-dom, shitting on each other isn't cool.
Migden, yes. A fellow blogger, not so much.
Anyway, we stood there awkwardly for a minute and then Eve goes, "Well, I'm going to the bar!" And marches off. I literally ran after her into the lobby as Brock emerged from the elevator.
"Oh my god, Brock. Guess who we just met?"
Once we filled him in on our Kay encounter, Brock looked over at her and declared, "She's the one that called me a tranny."
Say whatever you want about me (or don't. That'd be good too.) But don't call Brockstar a tranny. That shit is uncalled for...