Well…well…I submitted mah blog here and this is what ‘Nutjobber’ cracked for my blog…

I misread the address (confessedsinner), and thought I was to review a blog titled “Confessed Dinner”; I was looking forward to post after post of naughtily-eaten suppers of decadence, of food-debauchery so intense that my appetite would have no recourse but to crawl behind my stomach and hide.

Nope.

Confessions of a Weird Dreamer is pixilated sidebar-fonts, a colour scheme that conjures images of a shopper gone haywire at the vast selection of highlighters at their local office-supply superstore, and did somebody say “meme”? ’Cause this girl fucking heard you.

For the record, I am presently operating on, oh, an hour-and-a-half of sleep, my old friend insomnia giving me a good kick in the back last night, so let me just say three things: this is less a blog than a MySpace page, it‘s too busy as a whole, and “lolz” + variations thereof always make me want to slam my head into a circular saw.

Who, who, who, WHO, at twenty-years-old, has this as an answer to one of those dreaded meme-questions on their very own blog: “Warning-Under 18 …don’t read this answer ….”

Whaaaaaaaat? Let others figure out a way to censor you, don’t censor YOURSELF! Plus, what’s the first thing a reader’s likely to do if they’re told not to read something? You’re right – they’ll turn off the computer and have a glass of warm milk before snuggling into bed; they won’t, like, totally read what they’re not supposed to, just like I totally didn’t find and read a stash of Playboys when I was in the fifth-grade.

I’m too fucking tired to be Mr. Positive today – this, like the vast majority of blogs out there, is note-passing between cyber-friends and spiral-bound notebooks of thoughts and feelings dumped onto the sieve-less catchall that is one’s personal weblog.

Hey, if that’s what you want, good on you, have fun…just don’t except random visitors to jump up and down with delight because you wrote something while sitting in a park.

this a super

Witty criticisms (critty witticisms?) will have to wait until I’m a little more rested and not rubbing my eyes like I got hot-sauce in them.

(Meh in their system means– We meant to rate you, really we did, but we fell asleep reading your shit. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. snore.)