"I'm really not the sort of person who would ever have a blog," "Blogs are really pathetic, I'm just bored," "Seriously, I used to make fun of the girls who had livejournals in high school," and of course "I'm really not that self-centered, I don't even care if anyone reads this!"
If you're sufficiently convinced that I'm a humble, cool chick to whom blogging is both beneath and out of character, read on. If you remain skeptical that I may be an attention seeking pedant, fueled by thesaurus.com, liquor and the unrequited desire of an English major to see her words in print, well... as you were.
If the sensation you get from blogging is anything like what a 10 year old girl trying to keep a diary has, then this may be my first and last post. My ego's attention span is rather flighty, and the satisfaction it gets from a single outlet typically ebbs after the initial exchange. My childhood bedroom was full of blank journals with one or two pages energetically filled, only to be discarded and replaced months later with a different gaudy book, invariably covered in either flowers, fairies, glitter or a quote by a female "author"- like: "The passion of a woman burns with the light of a thousand stars,"or something equally bromidic.
Enough pontificating for the time being. I'll leave you with a sampling of some facebook status updates from my incredibly tactful friends on the event of a certain pop stars death:
- is not bummed out about people I don't know dying. Guess I'm a heartless b*%$+.
- is dead pedophile, time to cry...NOT
- is feeling much better about having kids with MJ gone.
- I thought MJ had been dead for years, and that science had just been propping him up? Ok, Ok, be mad at me for being tasteless...but you KNOW you were thinking the same thing.
- You'd think it was the Pope. . . then again, there have been 265 Popes, only one King of Pop, and zero Popes of Pop. . . and I don't think the Pope's death would cause Twitter to crash.
- Ding dong the pedophile is dead.
Nice guys, really nice.
