Last night I had a dream about my blog.
It was wearing a little black lacy get-up and…
Okay, not really.
Still, I think that I may be getting a little blog obsessed here, people.
In my dream I organized a group of bloggers to take part in a blog experiment. We were going to each write a section of some multi-part story and post them on our own blogs.
Not sure how it turned out because I was distracted by some mysterious brunette lass.
Well, at least I’m not so blog-sessed that her feminine wiles were wasted on me.
Even so, I spend a lot of time in the blogisphere.
One of the first things I do every morning is go to Bloglines. (Of course I go to gmail first. Come on.)
Before I eat or shave or anything, I check what you goofs have blogged about.
Truth be told, it doesn’t take much to get me to put off shaving. Get beaten with a sack of doorknobs… Or shave… Tough call.
Unfortunately for you, I am one of those annoying bloggers that is always asking things like, “Why do I blog?” Or saying things like “Man, my posts have sucked lately!” Or “I am so blog-blocked.” Or, “She’s not a slut, she’s just misunderstood!”
I often wonder if I was an anonymous blogger, would I be more free with what I wrote? Would I stop giving a shit and just let it all hang out?
There is something about having my name on my blog that makes me put more thought into things. It is just like when Flava Flav screened the girls for the second season of “Flavor of Love” personally. Or something.
“NO MORE GOLD DIGGERS!!”
Granted, there are lots of bloggers that use their real names and just don’t seem to give anything resembling a fuck about what people think.
Tony Pierce — of whom I’m a big fan — just does his thing.
Tucker Max — who I don’t completely enjoy — certainly isn’t concerned about what people think.
Plus, they get a buttload of traffic. I get *cough* slightly fewer visitors.
Though maybe there is a direct relationship between not giving a fuck and getting an assload of traffic. Probably involving madness like “traffic = exp(giving a fuck)” or something else that gives me a headache to even consider.
I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t trust anyone without a blog. What are they hiding?
Not sure if I’d want to date a woman who shared personal stuff on her blog though.
“Why does Peter insist on wearing his baseball cap to bed?!? That shit ain’t right! And why does he keep referring to me as ‘Lauren Graham?’ Freak.”
Some things should stay in the boudoir, ya feel me?
I’ve also been thinking that maybe I need an intern for my blog. (Or a blogtern?)
The blogtern can write on days when I have nothing interesting to say. Like today. The blogtern can track down new and interesting blogs for me to read. Cause, you know, I definitely need more of them.
I honestly don’t know how I’ve gotten this far without a blogtern.
The blogtern could free me up to do important things, like writing, reading, commenting…
And, of course, watching reruns of “Flavor of Love 2.”