As a lonely 53 year-old, post-menopausal woman I consider myself an expert on cats. I’ve spent my entire life trying to understand and love them.
They are literally the only things that make sense to me in this fucked up world. So when I saw this video my hip literally popped out of socket (again):
We live in dangerous times, you guys. The other day I was rollerblading motorcycling down the street when I saw a group of drug-monsters sitting on their front porch smoking on a weed-pipe. In broad daylight!
I could feel their angry red eyes stabbing into me like HIV-infected, dope-needles. And if their “mary-janes” were laced with “angel’s dust” then there is no telling what they would have done to me to get money for their next fix.
Needless to say I rollerbladed popped a wheelie and rode away as fast as I could.
Now I’ve already written a firmly worded letter that I intend to leave on their doorstep when they are not home, but what am I supposed to do next time I’m out rollerblading ramping off sweet jumps on my motorcyle and run into another terrifying bacchanalian marijuana ceremony?
Don’t worry, you guys. I’m pretty sure I found my answer:
If you are reading this online diary you are either:
A: My mom (hi mom!)
or
B: An 11-14 year-old girl
Now since the second rule of Professional Online-Diarying is “Know your audience” (right after “Be an asshole”), I’ve decided to try and explore some of the topics you might enjoy reading about (not that erotic Mortal Kombat fan-art and retarded tiger news can’t be enjoyed by EVERYONE).
Unfortunately, I’ve grown a bit out of touch with the average tween-age girl since I spend most of my time in my ivory tower sipping Château Lafite and translating obscure German poetry, so I had to do some exhaustive research (and by research I mean drinking heavily and watching the Disney Channel).
A twenty-four pack of Busch Light and six-hundred Bratz commercials later, I washed the blood out of my eyes and looked down at my notes and realized I’d only written down three things: Hannah Montana, Twilight, and designer fashion.
Unfortunately my lawyer has advised me to avoid blogging about Miley while the trial is still pending, and since the subtle erotic tension of the Stephanie Meyer’s book series terrifies me, that leaves fashion, you guys. Sorry!
Not knowing where to begin, I dialed into an AOL and Asked Jeeves, “Why is fashion?”. Which led me through a labyrinth of confusing hyperlinks about Tommy Hilfigers, Ugg boots, and free ringtone offers. About three hours into my journey down the fashion-hole however, I was stopped dead in my tracks.
Now I might not know the first thing about fashion, but when I saw this it sent shivers down my spine:
This morning I woke up in a cold sweat screaming again. This time however, my night-terror didn’t involve any gay celebrities or nightmare-gremlins. It was much scarier than that. I had a dream that I was a blogger. Then I realized that I am a blogger! YIKES. A blogger that hasn’t blogged on his blog in a blog’s age. How terrifyingly embarrassing!
Right now there are blogless children in Africa forced to blog about celebrity gossip and LOST theories using pens and paper while I have a perfectly good online-diary that I don’t use.
Dear Red Cross, Please send more blogs.
Whatever. They wouldn’t know what to do with a blog if they had one. A child with a blogspot is like a dog with a chainsaw. Or a cat with a gun.
I can’t remember the exact saying, but you get the point: Pictures of cats with guns are cute and hilarious!
Unless you’re a confused, teenage boy. Then they are apparently terrifying and sexual. Case in point:
Today while I was checking the Search Engine stats for my online-diary, I noticed a disturbing trend:
I almost considered not online-diarying about this since it has nothing to do with Hilarious Baby News or Retarded Tigers, but then I realized that this blog is apparently just about Scary Sex Toys now.
Sorry, mom. Your son is a blogger who blogs about sex toys. It’s not your fault though. I blame public schooling and rap music.
Anyways. I don’t know if this counts as a “toy” since toys should be fun and not painful, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. Except for you , mom. You should never, ever read this web-log. Please delete this site from your e-bookmarks. Actually you should probably delete all of the internets from your bookmarks, because they are scary places filled with scary people.
Full Too Sexy For Work WTF-ery after the jump…
I usually don’t announce NSFW warnings because frankly the issue isn’t that this blog is Not Safe For Work. If anything it is Too Sexy For Work (TSFW, coined it). As the title to this online-diary entry suggests, I’m about to take you to some very sexy, very frightening places. This blog is an erotic journey and I am your guide. And we’re never going to make any sexual progress if you keep having to switch over to an Excel spreadsheet every time your boss walks by your desk.
Just tuck yourself back into your pants and wait until you get home. This blog will still be here later tonight. I promise.
That being said, consider yourself warned:
(via Everything Is Terrible)
Well this obviously doesn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know. Performing magic is the fastest way to unlocking the gates to a woman’s Pleasure Kingdom. PERIOD. Well, that and blogging.
Favorite lines:
Woman: How do I know you’re not some sort of weirdo?
Weirdo: I’m not a weirdo.
You’re just going to have to trust him on that one, lady! Be careful though. I knew a girl that trusted a magician once. Want to know what happened to her?
I realize that this is probably a little late, and most of you have already forgotten about Christmas and have returned to the crushing sadness of your wretched lives, but whatever, that’s your problem NOT MINE. You see, Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. It’s that magical time of the year when we gather around with our loved ones and wait for our Jewish War-Lord, Jesus Christmas, to emerge from his cave and find out whether or not he sees his shadow. Unfortunately, according to the LIBERAL MEDIA, he did, which means we can expect another 2,000 years of war, disease, and human suffering. Whoops! Religion is nuts!
Human misery? LMAO
Unfortunately, Christmas 2008 was probably the last one any of us will ever experience. You see, I am not only a professional Blog-Master, but a fully licensed PROPHET. I have gazed into the future and what I’ve seen has shaken me to my very core. Like you, I’ve been deeply concerned about the WAR that has been waged against Christmas by Gays, Liberals, and Satanists. While we were focusing all of our powerful Christ-Magic against these evil-doers, we managed to ignore who was ultimately the most dangerous threat to Christmas:
I’m just going to go ahead and rename this web-log LastNightSomeBabyNewsHappenedSoTodayIBloggedAboutIt.blogspot.com.
I really hope that you guys are not getting your baby-news from any other baby-news-source, because Jesus Christ I write about babies a lot:
First Pregnant Man, Thomas Beatie, Pregnant Again
(via The Dish Rag)
Whoops, did that say pregnant man? And again?
As head blog-master at LastNightSomeBabyNewsHappenedSoTodayIBloggedAboutIt.blogspot.com, it is my job to bring you the latest in Hilarious Baby News, and so I apologize for letting news of this first pregnancy slip by me (Get it? Babies are really slippery when they’re born. It’s called a pun and I am the king of them).
Please allow me to make it up to you with this:
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