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:
Listen: This will be brief because I am running late for my custody hearing and if I miss one again they will surely take Jasmine away from me forever.
Very quickly though, I would like to dispel some myths about online-diaries and the sexy, young internet-magicians that conjure them up:
