Didja ever think "nobody reads my blog, I'll just rant about what I want, it's my blog, where else does it get to be all about me, Al Franken?" Rethink that shit too.
Do you know how many messages I get from people either thrilled or angry about the "veiled messages" they find in what I write that is "obviously about them?" Jesus, dude. It's not about you. It's about me. Seriously. Fuck a duck. I didn't give you a thought, and that goes for everybody. And then that pisses them off more? God, you just can't win.
And did you know that if you rant about it (whatever it is), experts will find you? If you're lucky, they'll understand what you actually said and become cool friends, but goddamn.
What happened to the old days where you could be a cranky old curmudgeon and nobody paid attention to a fucking word you said? Wait, no, that's not quite what I wanted. But sometimes, this shit gets freaky creepy.
So, for the record, for those who are paying attention (and I have no idea why you are), here you go:
I am not actually the Grammar Laurel. Don't even want to be. I don't actually care what's "right" or "wrong." [I hear the sharp hisses of indrawn breath now, and scrabbling for heart pills. Calm down.] I do think speaking a certain way, however competently documented, will mark one as a certain class of stupid. It's how the world is. Wanna do it? Knock yourself out, I don't care. I, however, got the crap beat out of me as a kid for it. [If you are interested in documented language usage, go read gooofy's real blog. Much better.]
You will not find messages to others here. If I write about "hey, I figured out that this is stupid, and in future, I think I'll pull my head out of my ass," I mean "hey, I figured out that this is stupid, and in future, I think I'll pull my head out of my ass," and not "hey, I figured out that you are stupid, and in future, I think you should pull your head out of your ass." Your journey in life is your journey. Go do with it what you will. Again, I don't give a rat's ass. On the other hand, if you find yourself pulling said head out of said ass, and you wish to share that I was your inspiration, I will be happy to celebrate that with you. But it wasn't my intention. Get over yourselves.
I will skip verbage and word things poorly or not to your taste sometimes. Omigod! I didn't give the backstory! I was flip! I didn't see it your way! I'm a bitch! I'm sarcastic! I swear like a pirate with Tourette's at a rap smackdown! I cause milk to curdle in your cows! It was eight hundred guys, and they were all nine feet tall, with flames coming from their heads, and they ate the babies, and I forgot the two goats in the hot tub! Oh, now she thinks she's Genghis Khan! Ur blog, ur doin it rong! Oh, for fuck's sake. Dock my pay.
I would have thought all this shit was obvious. But much like that sign in a hospital delivery room that said "No sex, please," apparently, it wasn't. And to make myself feel better for being such a ranty ill-tempered bitch, I'll end on a different note.
Define the word "estabinus." I'll come up with a suitable prize for a good enough winner. ;)