Mouth on legs
Well, I did it. My mother always called me the "mouth on legs." I make a snarky remark in response to a good friend's facebook post (because, you see, I am the Queen of Snark), and I knew my friend would understand my point of view. And she did. But a mutual friend didn't, and took it very (very very) personally. She took it as a personal attack on herself and her family, which it wasn't. It was a general (though pointed) comment. The original post showed a young boy with a rare albino deer he had killed. I hate guns and I hate hunting, and I wish people wouldn't teach 7-year-olds to kill innocent creatures. I believe animals have souls. I love my dogs dearly, and I don't know where you draw that line between pets and animals it's OK to kill. So I don't draw it. And of course I commented on all this in my typical blunt fashion. Well, you can try to smooth things over, but you can't unsay them. You can apologize for the tone. You can