Ask And Ye Shall Receive

I was snifffin' a lot of gasoline at the time (4:06)

2008-10-10T00:05:00.003-04:00

Once upon a time, I had the coolest neighbors in the world. And, once upon a drunken New Year's Eve, I introduced them to the White Stripes (and the rest is history) and they introduced me to the dancing outlaw. Take four randy couples, mix in several bottles of champagne and a dancing outlaw, and you have a party to remember.

All I know about West Virginia was given to me by Jesco. Until today, when I found myself face to face with Tor Herschman, who bills himself as the world's funniest iconoclast.

I had high hopes for a man who knew the term iconoclast and hailed from West Virginia, but apparently, Jesco is not the only one who's been sniffin' too much gasoline.

I never thought I say this, but I prefer a drunken, dancing, redneck, partially brain dead from inhalants backward ass country fuck to Tor.

Tor has his own fan club. It has 7 members. Compare this to Jesco White, who has 254 members in his fan club. Perhaps this is because Jesco White, and his on-again, off-again wife Norma, are at least interesting in a rednecky train wreck kinda way.

Tor has his own lingo, an stolen stew of synthetic dialect that feels counterfeited:

Since moi’s massive heart-attack and quintuple bypass surgery moi gets an occasional “Hope you’re alright” E sooooooo moi thought I’d tell you fine folks that moi may begin to blog post every season, or so, rather than each month.

You know, a manufactured dialect based upon the sounds of real Southern speech worked aight for William Faulkner, but you're no Faulkner. Your use of dialect is distracting, impossible to decipher, and inconsistent. Furthermore, it feels forced and amateurish, not to mention condescending.

It lessens the writing (which is fucking sadder than an emo kid who's lost his razor blades) and the chronic use of moi is annoying as fuck. This over usage of dialect comes across, more than anything, as a mockery of hill people and their speech.

My dad grew up in the Ozark Mountains, and his speech is a charming, gentle stew of country colloquialisms underlaid with the rich twang of the Missouri hill people. As a girl who grew up steeped in his accent and my own, Tor's ear for translating country speech comes across to me as about as sensitive as a fence post.

The content is piss poor, the blog layout design is non-existent, and the writing is a huge pile of festering manure.

Back to square one, blog nooblet.

You don't get to use dialect until you've mastered basic English and can write well in it.I always try to read at least a couple of months of posts for the blogs that I review, but I couldn't force myself to do it.

This is a pustulating scab of pretentious twaddle on the nether regions of the internet. Instead of sniffing gasoline, Tor should drench himself in it and light his corncob pipe.

Here, let me be of assistance:

…was blind but now I see..

2008-10-09T01:09:00.000-04:00

I’ve been having a crisis of sorts with these reviews, what’s the use of them? What do the blog authors really wish to gain from them? Do they do more harm than good?

All that philosophical shit.

Toss in wave after wave of mediocrity in the review queue and you are left with one seriously bored but blessed boy buggerer.

Then along came this weeks ‘blog’ for review. Never before have I been so inspired and reinvigorated to spit forth bile as I was after having looking at it.

The site is ‘Quotes in can’ and I’m not going to link to it, it’s not getting the traffic off me it doesn’t deserve. Google it if you really want to put more shekels in the author’s dirty pocket.

The site is stretched and covered in jingly jangly flashing shit, with a huge header created by some 12 year old.

A (lousy attempt at a) paid posting site of some sort, the author has ingeniously copied famous quotes from elsewhere and pasted them onto their pithy corner of the internet to pad out their own few miserable lines of moaning.

That’s all folks.

The posts are about as frequent as my thrush flare ups, and less desirable.

I needed this, I needed to see this pixelated scour in order to show me how to hate again.

Bloggers, heed this, get your heads out of your arses and take a look at why you submit.

The traffic you’ll get from here isn’t spectacular, but should you try to bluff us, the anal cavity expansion you’ll receive with a verbal rusty monkey wrench will make your eyes water, your granny’s ears bleed, and your respective deity burst into flame.

Clever, witty, sexy, funny, personal, or scathing are all I want to see. Any, or all of them, or at least a genuine attempt at one, will result in constructive feedback.

I’m going to go out on a limb and credit you people with some intelligence, you know what mediocre is, keep it the fuck away from me.

This week’s ‘blog’, doesn’t deserve flaming fingers, the site is nothing more than a cuntblister.

…and you can quote me on that.

Florida girls stick together. Maybe it's the suntan lotion.

2008-10-08T09:55:00.011-04:00

I'm going to go on record here that I like myself. Oh, there are times when I hate myself -- last night, staring down the empty carton of frozen yogurt comes to mind. But, generally speaking, I think I'm pretty awesome. You do, too.

It follows, then, that I like people like me. And I also like people who like me. It's this whole mutual appreciation thing that I'm sure you adhere to, too, when you're not being misanthropic and supercilious. Or maybe you just are misanthropic and supercilious, in which case you like misanthropes who sneer a lot. But whatever. My point is, common ground goes a long way. All the way to Australia, it seems.

I am a Florida girl who's lived abroad with ties to Texas who is liberal, dislikes exercise, loves Publix, and finds solace in blog connections, and so is Florida Girl in Sydney.

The design is clean and uncluttered, though a bit bland. I like the white background and the pink accents (yes, I'm a girl). I'm undecided about the "about me" stuff in the sidebar. It's brief, so I don't really mind, but it might do to have a separate page, much like the blogroll (points for you). The tags could be solidified more: I'm not sure I know the difference between "American in Sydney" and "Expat Drama." As usual, I think the design could benefit from tabs.

This is the blog of a woman living abroad, trying to make the best of it, and logging her experiences. There are some interesting Australianisms. I like the whole "holy shit we're in Australia and I'm trying to like it but it's not all dolphins and cheery accents" vibe. Her introspection and ambivalence and honesty are humanizing and touching.

There are parts that seem like handy helpful tips to other Americans living in Australia, which, though slightly interesting, aren't really for your everyday stateside reader. But I recognize, too, that this is a good way for the Florida Girl to document her Aussie life, whether or not it's particularly riveting. And, as much as I like her, there are some parts that I, as a nonfamily member without kids who prefers pictures of puppies, skip. Though she started the blog last year, it's only been in the last few months that she's seemed to really take ownership of the blog, investing more of herself.

But aside from these few blips, where Laura tends to go on about things that most of us probably don't care about, she's funny and charming and interesting. It's a mommy blog, for sure, but that's not all it is, and it's not of the Stepford Mom variety that we all know and loathe. Laura is lazy, irresponsible, and morally bankrupt, and I like that in a person. And homie don't fuck around with the Disney cutlery, and I got her back on that one. I wish I still had mine.

Ultimately, I really like Laura. I admit to a certain bias: I've been reading her blog for a little while now, and she reads mine. Laura has improved her blogging lately and seems to be hitting her stride. She's getting a bit more personal, a bit more real. We're getting a little more of her personality in that last couple of months, and she's tightened up and told her story with her own voice, a voice I like to listen to.

In my world, there are three types of blogs I like: those that are written by true writers, who capture my imagination and thrill me with their word play; those that are written by people I connect with, who have a personality and humor that meshes with my own; and those that are written by who cares who, as long as they have lots of nudity. Laura's is the second kind, the kind where you stumble upon a friend.

In the interest of dissuading claims of cronyism, and because I think Laura has a bit more work to do to make it to "I fucking love you" land (though I do), I'm giving her:

Keep writing, keep in the direction you're going, watch those ellipses, build up your repertoire of good stuff, tighten up your writing like you have been, and get a little more seasoned and you'd earn that coveted "I fucking love you" seal of approval.

Side note: Christ on a crutch, I'm going to need therapy. These spiders are from hell. And I live in a damn swamp.

2008-10-07T10:59:00.004-04:00

Miss Missives, guest reviewer extraordinaire here.

You know those blogs where the writer makes even the most mundane things interesting? Where you nod your head and silently mouth the words, "I know, me too" while reading it? The blogs that are so witty and thought provoking that you find yourself wishing you were having coffee across a table with the person rather than at separate screens somewhere in the world?

This blog is not one of those blogs. Tiffany is a New Jersey transplant writing mostly about her daughter and a few other random things. By and large, the site amounts to a web time capsule of pictures and snippets detailing Tiffany's day's with her young daughter.

I'm always flummoxed when these kind of blogs are submitted here. Tiffany, I'm speaking to you dear, are you a masochist or just blissfully unaware of the group you've voluntarily laid your blog naked before? If you're writing simply to keep friends and family in the loop on your New Jersey goings-on, I suggest you stop reading now. Call up your mom, ask her if she likes your blog. When she says yes, hang up the phone and smile satisfied with the firm knowledge that you are keeping your target audience happy.

Still here? Okay. I'm not your mom, your grandma or your college roommate who has a kid the same age. I'm like that teacher who smacked you with a ruler on your palms for not following the rules. You've taken what could have been a Garden State soliloquy and come up with something that belongs in the Secaucus Potter's Field*.

Tiffany used to be a special ed teacher so I don't doubt she'd know how to handle the gang around here. There's definitely some material there. Now, she's a stay at home mom and she sounds like a bored housewife. Tiffany makes apple picking and harvest festivals sound about as exciting as watching paint dry, really off-white, slow-drying, suck-all-the-oxygen-out-of-the-room paint. There is not a lick of vim or vigor in this, one folks.

Tiffany halfheartedly resigns herself to mommyblogdom, lamenting that mommyblogs lack uniqueness and after attempts at branching out writing about organization and American Idol, she's yielded to her fate.

In a recent post Tiffany says,

Trust me, I could write about all sorts of things. I could do more posts on living in New Jersey, adjusting to life away from my family, whether or not I want to still be a teacher, and the ups and downs of marriage.

Yes please? These are the kind of things good mommybloggers write about because good mommyblogging is about relating to each other and having a forum for some honest quid pro quo about the trials and tribulations of motherhood and balancing the varying roles we all juggle.

Not everything she writes is catatonia inducing, her preggo/birth story is filled with bits of things that give me some inkling of the woman before the baby. Then there's this, which is funny if you're a terrible twos mom.

As for the template, boring but easy to read and uncluttered. Give your 'Recently Written', 'Archives', 'Find It' and 'Blogroll' their own tabs on your header bar. Watch the spelling and knock off the 'this is what I think about Tyra Banks/American Idol/So You Think You Can Dance' posts. Seriously, stop it, no one likes these, not even your mom.

Tiffany moved from Colorado to New Jersey a few years ago and either she's always been a little meh, or the move from family and friends has done a number on her. Her daughter is cute and she's clearly invested a great deal of time into shaping and molding her, but she sounds like a woman who is killing time.

What did you do two years ago before you had a kid? Go do that or find some new interests, get a part-time job or volunteer a few hours a week. You need to go do something without your kid besides Target and you need to get some local girlfriends, not just playdate mommy sorta friends.

Rating: and maybe a little Meh-dication.

*A cemetery for the friendless, unknown or indigent.

Outrospection

2008-10-06T03:20:00.002-04:00

I have needs, people.

I need excitement, dammit. I need to be overloaded with swirling information and inundated with chaos of the most unlikely, improbable kind; I need for fury to shoot me through the dayglo-tunnel of optimism into a heaven of opposing, colliding viewpoints, a crucible of verbal-violence in which grammar-policing snapdragon-sentries breathe fear and swallow weakness; I need to be swept up in the maelstrom of life with a shit-eating grin and a full compliment of readymade snappy-retorts and witty-comebacks with which to confront and contaminate all that does and ever will exist under the sun’s unblinking, judgmental eye.

Michael has needs, too: he needs contentment.

Super.

I, personally, have nothing against contentment, for the most part: if that’s your bag, dig it, daddy-o. However, if you’re going to write about your contentment every day in a blog that I’m scheduled to review, well, then I have a problem. Contentment = FUCKING BORING. Like, vanilla-shake-boring. Sure, it’s hard to rip on a guy who does this for a living and who seems like an all-around decent human being, but, folks, I’m a professional, so worry not: you’re in good hands.

Introspection is like masturbation in that it’s not particularly enjoyable unless you’re the one in the driver’s seat. It can be downright painful if extended over the two-year life of a blog, and, unfortunately, that does indeed seem to be the case here. You have to understand, Mike, that "heck" to a preternaturally profane dude such as myself tastes like dish-detergent on a blueberry-muffin, and I’m far too delightfully frenzied to be calmed by the calming calmitude of your calminess, so, for me, Nutjobber, your intrepid reviewer, reading this blog is like shaking salt into my eye-sockets.

I’ll tell you what, though, gang: the man can take a picture, sho ‘nuff, and he’s got some skills, some solid chops, but he’s not going to tear my ass up with his writing; some wouldn’t count that as a strike against him, but I think I’ve established that I’m a pretty visceral cat who likes things a wee bit more interesting. Let me put it another way: Mike would probably give me a killer backrub, but he ain’t setting my hair on fire. If I had hair, that is. Whatever - you get my point.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are some children next door who need to be taught how to stay the fuck off of ol’ Nutjobber’s fence.

Genital Hospital

2008-10-03T09:09:00.010-04:00

WARNING: TODAY'S BLOG HAS ADULT CONTENT. BEFORE YOU CLICK THIS LINK, YOU SHOULD BE AWARE THAT THIS BLOG HAS CONTENT THAT IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE WHO:

1) Is under 18.
2) Is Working.
3) Thinks they will be working anytime soon.
4) Has a weak stomach.
5) Worries about making baby Jesus cry.
6) Has genital phobias.
7) Doesn't want to GET a genital phobia.
8) Is nauseated by naked saggy tits.
9) Is regularly offended by Key's/DPH's blorgy.
10) Ever wants to eat kielbasas again.

Charlotte Sometimes, guest reviewer here.

I think we all know who assigns the blogs to be reviewed around here. And, though I love her, I think she has it out for my prudish ass. You see, I’ve only reviewed a few times but somehow I get the naked bitches. And while Nurse Myra isn’t necessarily naked, her blog is as scholastically disturbing as seeing my corseted Algebra teacher giving the Chemistry professor a reach around. My brain is trying to process things it just wants to reject.

My first mistake when starting my review of this pit of deviance was actually reading the ‘About’ page. Evidently, it has little do with the actual blog. Nurse Myra states that she lost her lover to cancer and has a gay son. Naively, I imagined that I was digging into a meaty blog that would bring both laughter and tears into my blog reviewing days to come.

Not fucking likely. Oh there is plenty of meat on this blog, some of it even shocking and fucking creepy. But, there is little reference to the deceased lover and their journey through the cancer battle. The gay son was mentioned when I journeyed back to the blog’s early days and then something changed. Nurse Myra became a schlong monger. Maybe she always was one. I don’t know. I don’t care.

I’m not going to lie to you about anything, except my virginity. I only spent about an hour perusing this blog and then I realized that my stomach hurt and giving vaginal birth to an Audi seemed more enticing than continuing. Furthermore, I’m such a dolt I had to look up the definition of gimcrack and even after I did I wasn’t amused. Showy indeed.

Nurse Myra talks about herself in bloody third person, which is so pompous and grating that I would rather yank out my own breast implants with rusty salad tongs than to keep reading this freakish, cut and paste collage of perversity. And, don’t get me wrong here. Some of my very favorite people are perverts.

I’m going to skip any template advice and suggest that perhaps a course in marketing might be necessary. What you are selling is not what you advertise. I realize there is a place out there for sex blogs that read like college level textbooks. There is, right?

Now that I hate myself for having to spew forth this much venom, it’s time for a rating:

Basically, what I’m saying here is that I want to kick her in the genitals and ask for the big chunk of my life back that her fucked up blog stole from me.

I'm all out of stars.

2008-10-02T00:30:00.005-04:00

Well, Damn. Too bad it's not real.

Here is a mommy blogger who shows photoshopped semi-nude pictures of herself and step-by-step alcoholic drink recipes. Sounds good so far, huh? She offers lots of gab about her life, more recipes, office tidbits, some photos of her dog. Go ahead and read it. I did. I read it until I got pissed off, because it was virtually identical to the last 20 blogs that I have seen coming out of the mommy blogger genre.

I think that the internet has replaced the girlfriend phone circle. When we were in school we could hang out on the phone all day and discuss our problems. Then we grew up and got jobs and families. Now, the only way to hear that supportive voice is to blog about our lives while we’re pretending to work. Comments left by complete strangers encourage and affirm our opinions. It passes the time. Readers get involved in inane blog fights and pass whole weeks away, madly typing nonsense into cyberspace.

Then, some gutsy blogger decides that her blog is pretty good and asks for a review. They want to know if they are as good as they think they are. Are they cutting edge? Do they sparkle? Can they can write a story that grabs our interest? We spend hours digging into their blog to see if we can strike gold. Sometimes it pans out, other times, it goes to shit.

There's nothing wrong with Linda's blog. It's fine. No ads, no major gaffes, no grammar problems. She has some good stories, some chuckles. She uses her spell checker and she's not annoying us with emo-talk. Fine. She's been working this 'okay' blog for about four months. Time for a shake-up, Linda.

Another boring blogger template.

I am convinced that the only way to help mediocre bloggers evolve into great bloggers is to step on their necks and press down until they stop moving. Therefore, I am done being nice. There’s nothing entertaining here. Invent something new or get out of my face. Do something with your template, dip into the fonts and colors and shake things up. There are millions of bloggers with the same boring template. Right now you fade into those lame-ass code-o-phobic anti-geeks. Is that where you want to be?

Have we had enough of mommy bloggers who just don't rate stars, getting them anyway? I am guilty. I have given out stars trying to find the gold in a merely acceptable blog. Not anymore.

I am not going to applaud and support so-so bloggers anymore. For God's sake, write something interesting or go back to work, already.

And, by the way, what does it take to get past Meh?

Entertain us. Be funny, be dramatic, be provocative, be a complete idiot. Be critical, be cutting edge or artsy. Be nasty, be paranoid, be something. Don't go for depressed though, we hate that. We're women. We know how to use the right side of our brain. You can be better than this.

Don't expect to get your blog stroked if it is mediocrity personified. Expect an ass kicking.

If you want a shiny star, write like you deserve one.

_______________________________________________

This is my last review. Just trying to live life can so totally screw with our blogging, I have found. Thanks for the giggles folks, I am outta here.

A Broad Abroad

2008-10-01T09:29:00.005-04:00

In college I was lucky enough to do a couple of semesters of study abroad. The first was a summer semester traveling in Europe, and the second was a fall semester in Florence, Italy. Those six months and the surrounding two years or so were the best years of my life. I met my best friends, had the most fun, and became the most genuine version of myself I've met yet. I miss living abroad at least once a week, if not more. I miss speaking a foreign language, walking everywhere, the pizza margherita from Yellow Bar, sandwiches from Noe, and endless pints from Kikuya. I even miss the dog shit on the sidewalks and the men in suits pissing on the streets.

It's no wonder, then, that I enjoyed Blue Streak, an expat living in Spain with a foul-mouthed sense of humor and tendency toward snark.

In terms of design, the blue is ok, but the design is bland and generic. There's absolutely no personality, but it's nicely organized. There are a shit ton of posts on each page, though, so get ready to scroll (well, for the months where there are more than three posts). Is there something wrong with her apostrophes, or is it just me? She's got an about page, and it's great and funny and real, but I could use some more vital details like: what you do (generally speaking), why you're in Spain, who your hubs is, why Blue Streak?, etc.

Blue Streak is introspective and rambly and touching and bitchy and angsty bordering on whiny, but I don't mind because I whine about the same things. I have similar feelings about friends who have done well and my own chances of success. I guess we're just overeducated, maladjusted, childless thirty-something women with international tendencies, the grass is always greener mentalities, and a penchant for the word "fuck" who are searching for home.

There's some great stuff here: "In other words, I had the optimism of a village idiot eye-balling the haystack he just tossed his fucking needle in." And there are funny stories and tales of living abroad, which I found interesting and evocative and charming. But the only sex so far includes elderly flashers, which ew.

I can relate, and I don't live abroad anymore:

"Is this normal? Is it part and parcel to being "foreign"? A constant state of re-examination of what-ifs? Or is this what any mildy neurotic thirty something feels that has not had children yet to take away that curse of looking at ones wrinkles in the mirror too much or the sickness of dwelling on paths not taken, (wrong?) turns, U-turns..."

Blue Streak got off to a sputtering start, with just a few posts per month, but she's ramped it up recently and I'm hoping that's a taste of things to come. Her writing is personal and insightful and funny, and the only thing I can really hate on is the fact that there's not more of it. So, keep at it, give us more. And get a new template, one with some tabs and maybe some Spanish flavor and more functionality.

Today you get

because there's just not an awful lot here yet and the design is a bit meh. Otherwise, I really do fucking love you and I'm adding you to my reader.

P.S. Sorry about the hair. My suggestion? Move to Italy. Best haircuts of my life.

Verbero*

2008-09-30T09:06:00.007-04:00

You may not realize it, but I am a mommy-blogger. Oh, I don't blog about my kids that much, unless they say something pretty hilarious, but underneath all of my perceptions about life and other bloggers, I'm a mom.

And, putting my mommy hat squarely on my head, I will tell you up front: today's blogger needs a spanking.

Fortunately, I'm just the person for the job. And, no snickers from you, Calamity.

NeeNee is a blogger who apparently believes that her fuck ups can be fixed by writing about them. I am a great believer in the therapeutic nature of blogging, and I use my other, private blog for that purpose.

But, I will be the first to tell you: blogging is no replacement for real life. Blogging doesn't change the world, and it won't change you. You can't blog your way out of a broken marriage, or unemployment. And while it is non-fattening, it won't help you lose weight. It's one thing to write about what you would like to accomplish. I'm all for visualization as a strategy for change.

But, at some point, you have to actually lift your ass out from in front of the computer, and change whatever it is that you dislike about your life. If you want to lose weight, you have to get off the couch, stop eating so much, and exercise.

If you want a job, you have to get out there and pound the pavement, and at times, you have to be willing to settle for something that will just pay the bills so you don't dig yourself into a financial hole that you will never escape.

So basically, NeeNee, you are a girl who settles for writing about your problems, and thinking about your problems, but not SOLVING your problems. You live in the past, dwelling on an asshole who did you wrong. (not to mince words here) You're fucking an ex-boyfriend from high school who has no intention of having an actual relationship with you.

At what point do you think your life is going to get better if you don't do something about it besides write?

I have a few tips for you that have nothing at all to do with the layout of your blog (meh) or the style of your writing (also meh).

1. Get rid of EVERYTHING from Music Man. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. Every e-mail, every photo, every little residual piece of crap that you are still clinging to that is keeping you from moving forward in your life. It's over. It sucked. The End. I guarantee that he is not wrecking his life, sitting around moaning about you.

I had my own music man, having been around the track more than a few times, and it took me a good year to get over that relationship. I didn't make a lick of progress, though, until I stopped dwelling and mentally let go of the past.

NeeNee...your life is a wreck. You are unemployed, unhappy, overweight, and fucking your ex. You do not have time for this bullshit.

Life is short, and you're missing it.

2. Positive affirmations are great, though I prefer attainable ones.

Let's look at the situation clearly and objectively: you're massively in debt, and every day that you do not work, the hole gets deeper. Just get a damn job. It doesn't have to be THE. PERFECT. JOB. It just has to be a J-O-B that brings in some money so you stop going backwards, financially. Beyond the fact that you need the money, desperately, it is easier to GET a job when you are actually employed. Furthermore, you've already been rejected by one employer for your crappy credit. The only way to fix that shit is to work, earn a paycheck, and start paying down some of your debts. At this point, you are in so deep that I recommend that you work with a credit counseling service to renegotiate what you owe and get you started on a clean sheet. Being unemployed is depressing, and gives you way too much time to think about everything that is wrong. Going to work every day would at least give you something to do with your time, and a reason to get out of bed and get dressed.

3. Start taking care of yourself. You write that your weight is nearing 200 pounds. Wow, yet another thing to feel bad about. Today, not tomorrow or next week, TODAY, take a walk. Walk for at least 15 or 20 minutes. Tomorrow, do the same thing. Work up to 30 minutes a day, then up to an hour a day. Every day, you will feel slightly better. It will cost you nothing, and you will lose weight, guaranteed. I've been there, done that, as well.

You are 20-something years old. Do you think this shit is going to get easier if you wait?

4. Stop fucking your ex-boyfriend. Stop looking to sex with a man who doesn't love you to make you feel better about yourself. It will just leave you feeling worse.

In short, your blog describes your life, and your life looks like Hurricane Ike just swept through it, leaving catastrophe in his wake.

Time to grow up and fix it. You're the only one who can.

How do you fix it? You work on it, a little at a time, until it improves. At this point, you aren't doing that, and blogging about it isn't helping.

I give you

*A latin word, whose meaning you can google, if you're interested

I Am Returned

2008-09-29T05:33:00.003-04:00

Hello there. My name is Nutjobber, and I used to be all over this site like smooth on peanut-butter, but a couple of months back I was attacked and kidnapped by a consortium of hard-nosed space-bandits and stranded in the Poccicks Nebula. Left to die on a planet I had never heard of, I was quickly taken in by a gang of vigilantes and schooled in the ways the Gauinjy, an art of war from time immemorial, and rapidly fought my way through to the royal-coliseum, forced to duel headless dragon-bear after headless dragon-bear to win the hand of Empress-Ruler Lady Antrixtra and, consequently, my freedom. Though I was a passenger in the intergalaxy-pod as it catapulted through the dimensional-gateway, I still felt the entire Poccicks Nebula implode and shrink from existence behind me, and even as I cursed the many-fists of Lord Monbulak for the double-cross, I knew I would have my revenge. I swore vengeance, and I got vengeance...oh, yes.

Perhaps, though, I’ve said too much already.

What matters is that, returning home to find my internet-connection shredded, I managed to MacGyver a link out of four pumpkin-seeds, an inner-tube, and a copy of Bruce Campbell’s autobiography, If Chins Could Kill, and I am finally ready to review a blog. Dawg’s Blog, in fact.

Hold your breath: it’s a Canadian political blog.

Sigh.

You’d think that fighting for the souls of a billion destroyed planets would steel me against apathy, but you’d be wrong. Reviewing this blog after such a prolonged absence is akin to fasting for a month and then sitting down to a meal of boiled mud and half-cooked pygmy-testicles. Don’t get me wrong, Marie Eve and Dr. Dawg, you two-headed cyber-pundit; your blog isn’t bad, it’s just politics.

I mean, being Canadian myself, I know there’s an election afoot. As a man who’s referred to our country’s Prime Minister as Stephen "Cold Eyes of a Baby-Eater" Harper, I agree with your viewpoint. Your posts are well-written, extensively-researched, and boring as fuck. While it’s good to know that, among other things, you folks are relentlessly calling Harper on his pathetic, electioneering veneer of false working-class heroism, for me this is the equivalent of reading a copy of Knitter’s Weekly cover-to-cover, or watching the Paint-Drying Network’s A Lighter Shade of Mauve marathon. You guys are so hyper-niched that you make the guy down the road from me who talks to hubcaps look like Oprah.

Not that super-niche isn’t the way to go, necessarily; there are probably dozens, literally dozens of people who want to read about Canadian politics, but I’m not one of them. What I can say, however, is that you’d be doing your readers one hell of a favour if you gussied up your site a smidge. I’m not saying you should drown the thing in graphics or blow your budget on a header or anything; I’m saying something, anything other than your standard Blogger-template would, at the very least, differentiate you from the countless others rocking that look.

So, after all that, keep up the good work. I’m glad you guys are out there doing your thing, but I just can’t bring myself to read about it.

Feed My Frankenstein

2008-09-26T10:12:00.008-04:00

Sid likes pain, apparently. Sid frothed himself into a frenzy over the brief reprieve he was given last week, enough so that I've decided to give him my "special" love. Take a minute for yourself while I pull on my tall leather boots with the stiletto heels, lace myself into my black leather corset, and pull the riding crop out of the drawer. Okay, ready.

Sid perhaps should be more careful what he whines for, in the future.

First, the template, which was apparently constructed on a dark and stormy night, using a pirated photoshop program, in a dank dungeon far below ground level, powered by lightning strikes. I hate the header image. Too much going on, Sid. Pick something simpler to put your title on, and use a title color that stands out more from the background. We're looking for contrast here, not matchy-matchy, in terms of readability The extra words are unnecessary and don't contribute to a reader's understanding of what you're about here.

Your sidebar looks like the nightmarish offspring of a coupling between a 13-year-old boy and the Transformers movie, complete with merchandising placements. Please get rid of the crap in your sidebar. You don't need:

1. Shout Mix
2. Pothead #
3. A map
4. Your current mood.

Please rip them off your sidebar and stuff them back into the coffin, Dr. Sidenstein. What you do need to dig up, however, is something that explains who and what and where you are. I could potentially get interested in your story if I knew these things, but right now, I just see you as some whiny 3rd world emo kid whose abby normal brain has rotted in the overly hot tropical sun. So, if you want readers outside of whatever country you reside in, you have to tell us more.

You also need to give your readers a method to return to your home page, either by linking your header image as is standard in many blogs, or by putting a home button next to your "older posts" link or on the side bar.

The content...I really wanted to rip you a new anus, Sid, one that would have you shitting bricks from the front. But I can't.

Oh, I'll be honest...most of the content sucks. ass. hard. And that usually means a throatful of shit. But, you do have a few gems buried in the rotten corpse you call a blog. I'll give you credit for that. I find you are at your best when you are sad
probably a frequent mood for you, emo-boi, so it should be easy for you to give us more. In these posts, you tell a story that is compelling, or you actually make a point and express a persuasive viewpoint. Good stuff, albeit not perfect. At least engaging, though.

In the other 90% of this mess, you do a lot of the standard teenage whining and crying, and you made me want to stab you in the eye and bury you in my compost heap. I mean, dude. You whine INCESSANTLY about how hot your car is (awwww, poor baby). You go to a rock concert, your first real one, and you whine about your neck aching from head-banging (I would so kick your ass in the mosh)...bruises and blood are PAR FOR THE COURSE at a show, pansy-ass. They are badges of honor, not something to bleat like a wounded sheep about. You whine because you don't have a job. Given how many of our jobs have been exported to your part of the world, this sentiment isn't going to gain you a lot of points from American readers.

Here's what you need to do. I can tell you've gone through Ask with a fine-toothed comb, even reading the FAQ. Good on you. You need to keep writing, because you are not a terrible writer. When you've written a post, let it sit for a couple of days and percolate. Then go through, and EDIT it. You are not experienced enough at writing to be able to write on the fly and release your monstrous creations into the world. And, the more experienced you become, the more you will edit yourself. You use the word "I" too much, and fail to tell the reader a story, or provide the details that engage readers. Your voice is very "high school," meaning that you still sound amateurish and very internally focused. That's okay, we were all young once.

It does mean, however, that you need to think more critically about what you're writing, and try to develop a more mature voice. Pay attention to details that currently trip you up, like spelling, grammar, and tense.

I wanted to hate your blog, but I don't.

I give you a for the promising bits of beauty in this monstrosity.

However, I also give you a for being such a whiny little bitch.

Dirty Tricks

2008-09-25T09:36:00.007-04:00

There are blogs I read whose authors inspire me, whose words throb with meaning, whose nuanced and elegant writings resonate with me on a cerebral-emotional level so that I'm rendered thoughtful, introspective, moved.

This is not one of those blogs. It's scattered, rambling, clumsy, rude, vulgar, and visceral.

And I love it.

The design leaves a lot to be desired. There's no functionality besides the archives, and when you go to read them you're given each month's posts on one page, which gets super long. The font jumps from light blue to dark blue to red (Christ, my eyes) to pink to holy fuck it's purple, which I can't even read. Give us a break, please: dark text on a light background, or my eyes will fall out of my freaking head. Or, if you must stay with a dark background, use a more reader-friendly text color in a larger font.

I love the header image, but it's ginormous and requires extensive scrolling. The reading space is way too narrow -- too narrow is better than too wide (mostly, except in terms of penises and TV screens), but this makes for awkward reading. Set up an about page; I hate diving right in and trying to figure someone out from the backlog of archives. Give us a cast of characters, a few sentences about you, something to go on.

Now, to the writing. There are some rambly, boring, and pointless posts. There's a lot of weekend wrap-up, I did this then this. But you know what? I don't really give a good god damn because Lauren is raucous and inappropriate and unfailingly, brutally honest. I mean, naked in a wheel barrow? How can I not love that? She drinks a lot and posts pictures of her butt and has a funny kid. She tells interesting and naughty stories, if not particularly well written. She's fucked 80s rock stars, and I'm really ashamed by how impressed I am.

Lauren is really good with a one (or two) liner: "So I let down God and a bunch of babies so that I could have a one night stand. Nice work." And she says things like, "Ryan Reynolds... I would kill him, stuff him and hang him on my wall just to be able to fuck him for the rest of my life" which I can totally relate to. She's kind of fascinating, really, and there is no shortage of twisted little walks down memory lane. Her writing is unapologetic, balls to the wall, this is me, this is real, and I don't really give a damn what you think about it. It's refreshing and dirty at the same time.

What I really love about this blog is that there's no agenda, there's no front, there's no tidy little cubby hole you can shove her in -- it's just, flat out, the Dirty Pirate Hooker, with all her mishaps and narcissism (which is oddly endearing) and boozing and mothering her little punk and forgetting her underwear and making the best of things. There's a real life happening here, and it's not spiffed up and polished and twisted into a crowd-pleasing family friendly bit of entertainment. Lauren is completely original and an intriguing individual, and I'm adding her to my reader right now.

We Ain't Comin' Out

2008-09-24T08:08:00.006-04:00

Hello, assholes. Yes, you. It's me, Key.

Today we (and by we, I mean you and I, dear reader) are going to take a trip back in time. It's going to be a shitty one, because I don't remember years very well.

Once upon a time, there was a man. His name was David Koresh. And he stockpiled weapons and sex targets. Yes, I know, I think I may be a direct descendant. Well, he did all of this in Waco, Texas. One day, the ATF decided they were going to fuck with him. Didn't go so well. So, they came back and turned his compound into a large bong. But, they smoked Davidians instead of reefer. The end.

Why, GoK, must we relive this tragedy? Because the blog being reviewed today is from my home state, Texas. Waco? No, Permian/Odessa/Oil Country. Much like the Branch Davidians, I feel like this blog is trying to take my guns and underaged sex partners.

Before I get into this, I do have one thing to get out of the way. Rob and Dede, the authors, are good, good people. Why? Well, they adopted a boy from Russia. And if you know anything about me, you know that I was adopted. So, on a human level, I probably love you, Rob and Dede. Sadly, your blog will cause me to go off to a small university on the east coast and only call you guys when I need money for pot. And condoms. Hey, I'm pretending, I can act like I'll use them. But really, you two, good on ya, there's nothing harder than raising someone else's child. I wish you nothing but the best. Now, on to the ugliness.

If I have one piece of advice for you, my little Dolphins, it is this: you have way too many fucking entries per page. And it fucks up your entire blog. I wanted to move in and have you cook for me, but your entire blog suffers from this one issue. Your archiving is all jacked, please use months (feb, apr, etc..) as opposed to the binary code you have up now. But really, all of your layout issues can be forgiven if you just cut it down to like seven entries per page. Also, I hate dolphins, so you guys were fucked from the start.

The content, well, it's there. I read as much as I could. Look, you're both into information, and your blog shows it. It's just too much for me. I felt like a few bong rips would make your blog a cult classic. My parents would love your blog. There's recipes, strange footwear, and some really in-depth 'did you know' type stuff.

Oh, and there's a ton of shit about dolphins. I'm not linking it, no fucking way. If you need to know about dolphins, read this blog from front to back, you will know more than you ever should know about everyone's favorite tuna additive.

Look, I read a lot of your posts and I honestly feel like I don't know you two any better. I would like to see something real, but I can't find it. I feel like you are both hiding a lot. That's your call, it's your blog.

Congratulations on your beetle, I once sold VW's and had a blast doing it. Side note: I'm green with Irish envy that you have been to the Motherland, very green. I guess I'm confused though. What posesssed you to submit to AAYSR? Look, I understand southern mentality, be polite, gracious at all times, don't upset anyone. I once believed this was a great thing. I know better now.

Rob, Dede, get your crayons back. I think you both are capable of hilarious hijinx. Dirty it up a bit. Do something to grab the reader's attention. But seriously, enough with the fucking dolphins. If you plan on keeping the dolphins, please hire a writer to throw something entertaining up once in a while. Something humorous. Or, better yet, do it YOURSELF.

Y'all get a big fucking

No, wait, I forgot this post. This post, I hated.

Rob/Dede, let me ask you a question: I noticed that you both have cars. Where were these two cars built? Well, I know the Bug was more than likely manufactured in Mexico. By workers that don't take hybrids to work. Know anything about Clean Air Law in Mexico? Let's just say that these aren't the most eco-friendly factories known to man. Getting that Bug into the states burned up some fuel too, didn't it?

Yes, the price of gas is a bitch. Do something about it: stop driving. Or buy a steam locomotive.

Otherwise, get in line with the rest of us assholes. Yes, if you aren't driving an eight cylinder beast, you are going to come off as a dirty commie treehugging hippy. Because some dirty commie treehugging hippy convinced you that you can save the environment by driving an econobox. Good luck with that.

You're a consumer, just like everyone else on this planet, doing your part to destroy the planet. Admit it. If you won't be manipulated by survival of the fittest, I supposed you would be immune to being manipulated by the 'go green' campaign. Which will probably be much more devastating in the long run than all the lies those big horrible tobacco companies told us.

So, I give you this:

Sorry, LB, I just wanted to make sure the flaming fingers, yes four of them, were given an explanation. It was cool until you guys went all Mother Earth on my uber-cynical ass.

I abhor an ad whore.

2008-09-23T09:23:00.009-04:00

It's beginning to look like Old Home Day around here. Picket Fence is a blogger who has several of our former victims on her blogroll. Fortunately, they're the good ones - for the most part, so I give her marks for good taste. My blog isn't there, but what can I say. Even I admit that I suck. But then again, I'm not up for review, either.

Unfortunately, she has ads on her sidebar that are front and center. Move your profile information up and get that other stuff out of my face. Roll up your archives, that will save you inches of sidebar.

Those to whom you have linked in your blog roll, get a listing which includes their last posts, date and time which those posts have been published. That's an awful lot to list, don't you think? Maybe get rid of the time line and just list the post names and the site address.

Consider reducing the number of your own posts on your front page. Seven? That's very busy. Especially when you tend to go long. If you're good enough, people will munch up your archives to get more.

Your template is easy on the eyes, but your site resizes when I load each page in Firefox. Check your site in Firefox and see if you get what I mean. It's fine in Explorer. Notice how I didn't mention any bodily excretions when describing your template. That means that I like it.

The writing is nice, but I am just not hitting a groove here. I am sure Ms. Picket has lots of followers, but I'm not one. Not yet, anyway. She writes about her day to day stuff and it goes on quite a bit. She tries to be snarky, bit it's not happening. Ramp that attitude up if you want us to feel the love. Hit us with some good stuff. I can tell it's there, but you're hiding it well. Pick a topic, embrace it, enhance it. Dazzle us with your writing and then stop.

Get rid of the ads, sweetie. Set an example for the rest of the blogosphere, you don't need those ads. I am sure you could make more money from a well-placed lemonade stand. Good work, make it better, I'll be watching.

For the record, one star just means you didn't suck. Aim for three or more. You've got it in you to do better than this.

Comment of the Week

2008-09-22T09:30:00.009-04:00

We haven't done this in a while (by "we", I actually am talking about my own lazy ass here). I keep underestimating how simultaneously slothful and busy I am over the weekends, and I never seem to get around to it. However, we can definitely play this week, because it's Monday. And, I'm insufficiently caffeinated for my current work project. And, my weekend sloth is creeping into my workweek.

Also, I spent the week in Rochester and am just now really starting to plow through the comments and reviews.

Here are a few of my favorite tidbits:

The Mutha Effa - "Your header is uglier than the backside of a hairless dog."

Not-So-Nice Calamity - "...this time, I think the Flying Spaghetti Monster had something to do with it. Because my hapless little reviewee got me -- a pro-choice agnostic with pagan tendencies who is a queer friendly, pro-gay marriage, anti-religious establishment, foul-mouthed sex fiend feminist liberal elitist."

Ghost of Keywork (resident perv) - "I just became a member of the Church of the Volcano Taco. Tastes way better than Jesus."

Formerly Fun - "I tell people to turn the other cheek all the time, and then I wax that shit off."

Rassles - "Jesus was also the first loan shark, the inventor of the smoking jacket, and the originator of the phrase, 'oh, girlfriend.' Because he was omnisexual."

Mr. Lady - "because really, Jesus makes my hoo-haa burn."

That's my picks. This review was really fruitful for creative comments, so if you haven't already, go read it. There's plenty of sex and heresy, as per the norm here.

And, in the inadvertently funny column:

SSjSid said…
Jesus freaking christ! All the other three were reviewed with clockwork precision timing! Has anyone decided to make a special project out of mine?

Now we have. By "we" here, I mean me.

List of Bass Ackwards

2008-09-22T09:19:00.003-04:00

God, today is SUCH a Monday. There will not be a review today. However, here is the list of (planned) reviews this week, and we will also have comment of the week again.

(sh)It Happens - This review should serve as a warning about making a whiny arse out of yourself here. Something that I (personally) am looking forward to.

Dirty Pirate Hooker - Shiver me timbers, bitch, it's finally your turn for the pain.

Post Picket Fence - Will we take it easier on her because she was inadvertently skipped in the review process? What do you think?

2 Dolphins Yay. Aquatic Mammals.

Mexican Standoff

2008-09-19T00:01:00.012-04:00

What do I do all day? is ugly. With a baby shit yellow template, brown links and a couple big widgets, frankly, I've seen more attractive items floating in the commode. Really. Throw in some corn and it's a dead ringer.

The blog's premise, however, is intriguing. Theresa and her husband moved to Mexico after they retired. This captures my imagination. She's doing what many people only fantasize about: pulling up stakes and living their dream. How many retirements end in boredom, despair and illness? Retired people often find themselves staring at the TV with their only break being a trip to the doctor's office or grocery store. Not Theresa, she's mañana-minded.

Theresa's content is versatile, covering gardening, cooking, speaking a new language and her transition to the life of an expatriate. Her grammar and style are nice, but you can ruin a good pot by overstirring. Mark Twain said, "A tale shall accomplish something and arrive somewhere." Take that to heart, please.

Here are some hints:

Your header is uglier than the backside of a hairless dog, but then again, #f6f6f6 has never been my favorite color. Try FFP933 or maybe FFCC66 for a better result. Check out a hex chart and pick a color. Email me for information if this geeks you out.
Right justify your header text, which would move it into the yellow side of your header. If you can't do that, try to do it with spacing. Get it over to the right so that it shows up.
Look for a thinner weather widget. By the way, do you even need that weather widget? We all know that your weather is better than ours most of the time. You're just rubbing it in, aren't you?
If your poll is closed, delete it or create another poll. Polls are like a diaper, you have to change it often or else it starts to stink.
Consider a tabbed blog for your links and some of your other information. Tabs are great for navigation. They allow you to make your blog a prettier place to visit. However, once you free up your sidebar, don't muck it back up with junk. Keep it neat: navigation links, a subscription button and other essentials, farm out the rest to the tabs. Be careful before you go with a non-blogger template. Back up your current template first.
Simply put - chose your words carefully. Make each word sing.

I am giving you a bright shiny for your enviable journey. Save me a hammock, will you?

And a big old for your tidy bowl template. It's time to clean it up, my dear.

Bow-ing, James, bow-ing

2008-09-17T05:55:00.009-04:00

Say it like you have a speech impediment and you’ll get the idea.

‘Oh goody’ I thought to myself, ‘a nice grown up blog to have a look at, this should be interesting’.

Now, take a seat, maybe get yourself a stiff drink or a hot sugary tea, for what I am about to say may shock you to your very core.

I was wrong.

Standard stuff first, decent template with plenty of writing space, dreadful navigation, and an interesting banner.

The rest, was simply dull. Plentiful and dull.

I may be doing you a great disservice here, but I think all of your imagination and skill is going into your books (and rightly so), because as much as you write in your blog, there is nothing meaty. Nothing.

Maybe the silly tit for tat adventures of minor Canadian politicians counts as interesting to someone but not me I’m afraid.

Another possibility is that you have some fabulous entries hidden away, maybe so, but no one is ever going to find them as your navigation is horrific (hence few links). Only being able to go to the previous and next posts is useless, especially when you have entries back to 2002.

In an attempt to find something, anything that would stop me from rummaging through the press under my sink for something liquid and toxic to end my misery, I stumbled across this where you talk about your novel writing, the process, the challenges. That was interesting.

I don’t really know why you blog other than to have a promotional avenue for your books, which is fair enough, but it leaves the blog hollow, preachy and full of matter-of-uninteresting-fact.

This Mountie gets his meh.

My own worst nightmare

2008-09-16T09:46:00.009-04:00

It's the luck of the draw around here. The often imitated but never duplicated Love Bites reaches into her bag of tricks, shoves aside the tubes of lube, lipstick, and Lifesavers, and pulls out the blogs for us to review. It's completely random.

But this time, I think the Flying Spaghetti Monster had something to do with it. Because my hapless little reviewee got me -- a pro-choice agnostic with pagan tendencies who is a queer friendly, pro-gay marriage, anti-religious establishment, foul-mouthed sex fiend feminist liberal elitist.

Angi from Sleep for Dreaming, on the other hand, is not. Way not.

Let me just get the design critique out of the way, as it's about the only part of this site that didn't make me want to spit nails. It's actually very easy on the eyes. I can dig the gray and red. It's uncluttered and well-organized. There is, however, a section for Who's Who with nothing in it and you could stand to beef up your About page with more details.

Now, for the rest of the blog: I have absolutely nothing in common with this person. Nada. She is the antithesis of me, and it was often physically painful for me to read her blog. She's religious in the "first and foremost" sense. There's a lot of God talk, which I get enough of from my mother the priest, thank you very much. She's a conservative cat person; I'm a liberal dog person. And fuck me sideways she links to Ann Coulter.

There are a glut of posts of the pointless, interesting to no one variety, like this. And this. And, holy lord, this. Otherwise, she's got issues. There are acres and acres of angsty, self-discovery posts that really should be relegated to her bedside devotional journal. She thinks that lesbians are icky, women over 50 should pack it in, and red lipstick is from the devil (ok, I made that last part up). Oh, and side note? Scaramouche is a character, not a thing. Angi doesn't like swearing, which makes me wonder (for the zillionth time since beginning this review) why she decided to submit her site to a bunch of foul-mouthed little bastards like us.

The writing is often naive, unfocused, bland, and frankly boring but at least well-punctuated and generally grammatically correct. For me, it lacked humor, style, an engaging voice, and, of course, an author I could relate to. This post about sums it up for me: "I’ve dabbled and chicken-scratched a bit since then, but haven’t really written anything of any significance." Nothing in this blog resonated with me. But that's probably my liberal elitism showing. I always forget to tuck that in like a nice girl.

Look, I try to be objective. I try to find common ground, and I look for the magic mushrooms in the piles of dung. I tried not to let my politics -- or the influx of my family's right wing propaganda in my inbox -- cloud my reviewing sensibilities. I am, after all, the "nice one." But this blog? Sigh. She's probably a nice person. I bet she helps little old ladies down the street and lets people cut in front of her in line if they have just one thing to buy. It's just, nothing on her blog makes me want to sit next to her on a long road trip while we hash out our differences or engage in philosophical debate. I pretty much just want to close the window and walk away. And that's probably ok with Angi, because I'm decidedly not her audience.

Finally, because I try to give constructive criticism even when my dander is up and I'm all kinds of huffy, some tips:

1. Angi, you imply some knowledge of hard times and difficulties and challenges surmounted but you never share that information. If it's too personal, I understand, but that was where you got me a little interested in your story. It might help readers get to know you (and not knee-jerk react to your politics, like me) if you give us more insight into who you are. Other than your politics and religious views and your love for song lyrics and photography, I feel like I don't know that much about you. Even though I cringed at your reasons, the Why I Could Never Be Friends With... posts revealed more about you than many others.

2. Lay off the "I did this, then I did this" weekend roundups. Unless something interesting happened, leave it out.

3. There are no revelations about relationships with anyone, romantic or otherwise. Who are the people in your life? Write about them.

And I'm spent.

My first inclination is to give you about eleventy-nine million of these.

But, in retrospect, that might be letting the terrorists win.

Instead you get this, because I suspect I might be a little biased:

List of Fly the Shitty Skies

2008-09-15T13:52:00.002-04:00

I have precisely 10 minutes before I board my flight to lovely North Groin, NY, to stay in a crappy hotel for the next 3 days. Here is the list of pain, abbreviated version:

We Sleep for Dreaming

Bow. James Bow.

(sh)It Happens

What Do I Do All Day?

Please pass the air sick bags.