Friday, April 27, 2007

It's Not My Best Work, Sorry

Blue Paint Red is Fireballs' given assignment this lovely Friday.

And by lovely, I mean, yeah, it's Friday. It's raining. I'm listening to Band Of Horses wondering where I went wrong in life. Then I remember. I remember being 12 years old, and seeing my first fully nude woman. Not my Mom, not a family member. I walked into my friend Doug's house, because I was due to play baseball that afternoon with him and a few friends. I really had to pee, so I found the bathroom, and went. As I'm coming out of the bathroom, I turn and there's his mother, naked, dripping, and wet, towel around her head. Doug had already left for the field, and his mom had been taking an afternoon shower. Amazing what the 12 year old mind can process.

Why tell this story? It's to fully prove that I don't hate mothers. I don't hate mothers, I don't hate mothers who blog. I do hate bloggers who have shitty templates that don't have rolled up sidebars, or pooptacular stories that make me want to cry. I hate bloggers that are sheep, that fall into the same traps that seemingly every wannabe superstar mommy-blogger does. Telling cutesy stories about how their children are the most wascally wabbits that ever was. How their husband is truly a lovable douchebag that just doesn't understand them, or any women, because, well, he's a man and just can't think of anything but beer, his penis and sports. Because all men are stupid, but thankfully, they have the mommy of their children in their lives to keep them straight. It's not mommy-bloggers or mommies I hate. It's bloggers who fall into these traps and think they have to be like all the other bloggers out there. Be different. Be exciting. Be thoughtful and clever. I don't care if your husband is a lovable douche. I don't care if your kids are up to the cutest highjinks EVER. I don't care. Stop. Join a book club, obsess over a reality show, but get off the fucking internet immediately.

Thankfully, BluePaintRed doesn't seem to fall into too many of these tired cliches. The template is great. It gets the point across immediately that one of this woman's great loves is coffee, and it's evident. See how far a tiny theme can take you in the stupid universe of blog-reviews? The content is okay, and that's about all I can say. She clearly never found Blogger's spell-checker, or doesn't use one if she posts from another program. Use it, please. Not every post is about her kids and her husband. The anecodotal post about her husband's jingling change is funny because it goes somewhere, it has a point, despite not necessarily painting him in a great light.

Blogs should be a personal expression, no doubt, so there can't be any doubting that this is really her, she's not putting on airs or adopting some stupid internet persona (My REAL name is Atomic Q. Fireballs, by the way. REALLY. IT IS.) It's a blog by a mommy that isn't always necessarily about the struggles of being a mommy. I've had an INORDINATE amount of mommies lately for review.

So, in general, I cannot speak for the other reviewers. I just want it known I don't hate mommy-bloggers in general, because there are certainly enough of you out there that there have to be some good ones. This one is just average, in my opinion. She's not someone I would blogroll, but it's not awful, either. I really have no recommendations template-wise, it's very good. Content-wise, use the spellcheck. Other than that, it's got to be someone's cuppa, but it ain't mine.



7 comments:

  1. *yawn*

    Oh, wait. Was I looking at a blog?

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ah, I dunno. I didn't hate it, I didn't love it. Meh kinda summed up my feelings on it.

    It's a five for me, in the grand scheme of 1 being shit-tastic and 10 being super-awesome. If you get my drift.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Meh is meh. Best adjective that says everything and nothing EVER.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Not only is Bluepaintred totally crazysexycool, but I am the father of her youngest son!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Well gee Fab. Now I am *meh* and a slut.

    This calls for celebration!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Fab, I thought I was the father! Oh wait...I'm not a man. don't have a penis.


    meh.

    ReplyDelete

Grow a pair.