On Blogs

I felt I should start this brand new experience with a disclaimer: I hate blogs.

You see my problem.

Blogs are just about the epitome of everything that drives me nuts about... the internet.  Let us take, for instance, the "selfie".  Ain't nobody taking selfies for themselves.  Every time I log on to Facebook, I'm assaulted by overly-made-up and -filtered portraits of people I've met maybe a few times.  Other than that I need to sort out what is happening with my News Feed thang, what does this tell us?  It tells us that people are egotistical jerkfaces.

 
Because apparently I'm thiiiiis old.

Because apparently I'm thiiiiis old.

 

People are annoying, and it's obviously incredibly frustrating that smarter annoying people have come up with ways for folks to broadcast their pictures and "thoughts" so easily.  What is the point of blogs?  I don't quite get them, clearly...  Fantastic, you have a place to display your thoughts on things.  Maybe on one particular topic.  Maybe on Nutella.

 
Not that I blame 'em.

Not that I blame 'em.

 

I'll be honest, I just Googled "what is a blog".  And I was not disappointed!  I uncovered all these intellectual-sounding articles written by bloggers on why they blog.  Such drivel.  So inane.  And not a one was under four pages!  What on earth were they saying?  I think there was the history of the blog in there... somewhere.  No, thank you.  I've taken too many classes on this crap.

My theory is that a blog is just what we call a website that has no real purpose (or a purpose-less page on a real website, as the case may be).  Blogs don't particularly aim to educate, usually, they don't really try to sell you things, they aren't really social networking sites.  I suppose they're just the leftovers.  They're just where we put our crap when we want it out there, but don't know of a better way to do it.  Huzzah!

 
Blogs: the frittatas of the internet?

Blogs: the frittatas of the internet?

 

I'm not sure what to call this, if not a "blog".  So be it.  A "blog" it is!  Whatever that means.

On Hair Elastics

I've recently discovered just how delightful it is to have hair elastics in a variety of colours.  Maybe it's because I'm just so used to only owning the one unbroken black one.  Or maybe it's because I've discovered the following foolproof way to express my moods.  Yes, foolproof.

Such colours.

Such colours.

Purple:  I am genuinely happy.  Everything is right in the world right now.  Also I like purple.

Yellow:  I am genuinely happy.  No I'm not.  I'm lying.  I'm probably really stressed out or upset.  I hate yellow.  Yellow is a stupid colour.  Who looks good in yellow?  Nobody.

Blue:  Bitch, I got shit to do.

Green:  I'm bored.  Or serene?  Are they the same thing?

Orange:  I'm out of all other colours.

Red:  I will wear this crimson badge as a representation of the rage flowing from my soul, much like the motherfucking river of blood that could very well spewing from my stupid (though usually glorious) lady bits right now.  Like the great Mississippi in the spring of 1927, when, swollen by heavy rains, the river broke through levees and flooded a total of 73 500 km2, forcing the evacuation of 500 000 people and leading to economic losses totalling US $1 billion.

Black:  Do you think I give a fuck?  It's a fucking hair elastic.