OH THE SHAME.... THE SHAME OF IT ALL
Due to a stupid STUPID thing I did... (like all things, it seemed to be the MOST brilliant idea I could ever come up with for about all of two seconds) I have officially screwed up my blog site. Links are no longer working. Pictures have disappeared. I do not know how to bring it back from the dark side. Which is highly disheartening. Not that there was very much to begin with, it's like losing a diary you have had for a long long time. Nowadays when I want to brag about how I started bloggin all the way in 2002, everybody will think that I'm just taking through my arse and ignore me, which is not an uncommon response to anything I say anyway.
Today, I surfed over to someone's website. Someone who has been religiously updating her site since 2003!!! 2003!!! That's a cool 2 years ago. That's dedication for you. How would I describe my attitude towards blogging? Procrastination inducing guilt. OooooH.... but what an outlet... what a good little outlet this is.
Yesterday I went out with some friends for a little bit of dReeEnkeeEng. Little bit? bwahahahahaha. Anyway, not the point. During which I was accused of being both immature and a prude. NOW NOW.... settle down people. I know you want to take your pickaxes and protect my name and my dignity and Take This Outside on my behalf... but it's ok. Sit.
This was of course coming from people who I actually like. As opposed to people who I really don't give a shit about, at which if they said something like that I'd just shut down, my eyes would glaze over, and I'd start imagining them with all their clothes off, because it's a really fun thing to do when you want to humiliate someone in the privacy of your head.
Anyway. Now. Poll. I'm no AC Nielsen, but this will have to do.
Important Question No. 1 : Am I immature?
Important Question No. 2: Am I a prude?
Now the only person who truly knows me well enough to answer that question would be my brother (the only other person who visits this site) BUT we haven't lived together in AGES... like years and years, so his answers are unreliable and bordering on downright silly, because that's the kind of person he is. I should know. He's my brother.
Anyway. So I am Not Immature. And I am Not a Prude. So... I like to have a little fun with paper planes, rolling around the office on those office chairs, flaring my nostrils in public, doing the Oh-So-Cool "WHATEVER" sign on my head [Hint: Hold thumb and pointer finger of both hands out. Touch thumbs together. Put to forehead. There you go! The ultimate comeback], and sometimes, maybe sometimes getting whiny. But what is immaturity? Immaturity is completely living off your parents long after you've graduated, and not paying any bills at home. Immaturity is driving drunk. Immaturity is not being able to understand why he's Just Not That Into You. Immaturity is having trashy magazines as your prime reading material. Immaturity is thinking that that really expensive pair of shoes will clear your blue funk. Immaturity is Britney Spears. That's immaturity. At least in my books. And yes that's what I tell myself when I cry myself to sleep at night because I have to give half my paycheck away, moon over the unattainable man, and having the itch to buy the Britney Spears record despite every cell in my brain protesting against it.
Me. I'm totally cool. Mature. James Bond like even. Suave. Devastatingly so. But female. GrrrRrooowl.
As for prudishness. NO WAY? Me? a prude? PppffFFFFFffft. Silly little men. How little they know me.
chew.
Today, I surfed over to someone's website. Someone who has been religiously updating her site since 2003!!! 2003!!! That's a cool 2 years ago. That's dedication for you. How would I describe my attitude towards blogging? Procrastination inducing guilt. OooooH.... but what an outlet... what a good little outlet this is.
Yesterday I went out with some friends for a little bit of dReeEnkeeEng. Little bit? bwahahahahaha. Anyway, not the point. During which I was accused of being both immature and a prude. NOW NOW.... settle down people. I know you want to take your pickaxes and protect my name and my dignity and Take This Outside on my behalf... but it's ok. Sit.
This was of course coming from people who I actually like. As opposed to people who I really don't give a shit about, at which if they said something like that I'd just shut down, my eyes would glaze over, and I'd start imagining them with all their clothes off, because it's a really fun thing to do when you want to humiliate someone in the privacy of your head.
Anyway. Now. Poll. I'm no AC Nielsen, but this will have to do.
Important Question No. 1 : Am I immature?
Important Question No. 2: Am I a prude?
Now the only person who truly knows me well enough to answer that question would be my brother (the only other person who visits this site) BUT we haven't lived together in AGES... like years and years, so his answers are unreliable and bordering on downright silly, because that's the kind of person he is. I should know. He's my brother.
Anyway. So I am Not Immature. And I am Not a Prude. So... I like to have a little fun with paper planes, rolling around the office on those office chairs, flaring my nostrils in public, doing the Oh-So-Cool "WHATEVER" sign on my head [Hint: Hold thumb and pointer finger of both hands out. Touch thumbs together. Put to forehead. There you go! The ultimate comeback], and sometimes, maybe sometimes getting whiny. But what is immaturity? Immaturity is completely living off your parents long after you've graduated, and not paying any bills at home. Immaturity is driving drunk. Immaturity is not being able to understand why he's Just Not That Into You. Immaturity is having trashy magazines as your prime reading material. Immaturity is thinking that that really expensive pair of shoes will clear your blue funk. Immaturity is Britney Spears. That's immaturity. At least in my books. And yes that's what I tell myself when I cry myself to sleep at night because I have to give half my paycheck away, moon over the unattainable man, and having the itch to buy the Britney Spears record despite every cell in my brain protesting against it.
Me. I'm totally cool. Mature. James Bond like even. Suave. Devastatingly so. But female. GrrrRrooowl.
As for prudishness. NO WAY? Me? a prude? PppffFFFFFffft. Silly little men. How little they know me.
chew.
