I've been a member of the blogger community for several years now. We are an interesting little nitch in twenty first century society. A world unto ourselves. Some of us use blogging as an extension of our daily lives. It is put out there for friends and family members to get updates and keep in touch. Others use it to give political opinions and pop culture updates.
Still others to vent about what particular stick got rammed up their ass on that particular day.
As you kiddos are well aware, I fall into the latter category.
The blogs I keep going back to also fall into that category.
You all know we're the kewl kids. The kids that had our own table in the lunch room and sneered down arrogantly on everyone else.
I have tried to get on board with blogs that talk about Aunt Beulahs bunion removal or Little Joey's diaper rash but really....
I don't give a shit.
But when I stumble across a blog like that and I see 40 plus comments, I shake my head in wonder...
Who READS this shit? I mean I totally see the attraction of writing it. If you life is so sad that your musings are focused on bakes sales and play dates, well I would imagine having a social life online helps in not blowing your fucking brains out. But really....what the fuck is up with the other forty of you that not only read the entry but come back and read the same boring shit the next fucking day?!
So I, always the investigator of the mundane and pointless, follow the breadcrumbs and check out the commentors blogs.
Yeah, just as I suspected, they suck too.
So what I am proposing is a new warning screen that can go hand in hand with the adult content alert that is required when a naked boobie or two is contained within.
This one should say........
The following blog contains intense bragging about below average children and stupid fucking expressions like dear husband. You may find talk of hysterectomies and bake sales...perhaps a graph about weigh loss and if you really hit the tendious jackpot, a picture of a puppy or two. Do you agree to continue? If you click yes, go into your medicine cabinet, take DH's straight razor hidden behind your multi vitamin with iron, climb into the bath tub with generous amounts of that lavendar bath foam you use, settle in and slash your fucking wrists. You are already the walking dead so you may as well look the part.
I'll see the rest of you at the popular kid's table Monday.