Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Dear Diary, my teen-angst bullshit now has a body count*

Ah, I've missed it here. The holidays were grand, but, oh, to be back among you, you vile, loathsome, evil little cockroaches. You complete me.

I wish I could say the same for my reviewee today. My welcome back, in that sense, leaves much to be desired. Because instead of starting 2009 with a blog to praise, an author to drape with laurels, and a new hope for the merits of bloggers worldwide, I get... well... this.

Sigh.

Brace yourselves. There's bad poetry. And prose poetry. With no attempt at using an apostrophe. Or capital letters. Or a dictionary. Or any sense.

Ov. Ov? Seriously? Fucker. No wait, it gets worse: gud. And wud. And ud. I just... I can't even get mad. Because it just depresses me so much. I know this is English as a second language and I'm dealing with a generation who learned to communicate in text pidgin, but Christ on a crutch, is this what the world is coming to? To paraphrase LB's daughter, I despair for her generation. And I despair for us if we're getting another round of emo Indian kids' blogs to review because, oh, the agony.

I suspect someone listens to a lot of Evanescence or maybe Lacuna Coil. And she calls herself a Nincompoop. And a loser. I mean, this is angst to the nth degree. It's dark (but kind of dark light, like gray, or maybe a middling purple, like it wants to be dark but doesn't know how), and silly, and juvenile, and pitiful, and woe is me, and melodrama, and OMG toadily (I'm fucking serious, y'all -- she wrote "toadily").

And what's worse is I can't understand a damn thing that's going on. There's no story. There's no revelatory information, no exposition, no nothing. I don't know who this girl is, aside from my assumption that she's young and depressed. I don't know what she likes, what she does, who her friends are, what she wants. It's just really bad poetry and really pathetic whining and really annoying mutilation of the English language. All on a black background with a huge ass header image that takes up too much space and meaningless doohickeys in the sidebar and it's just all a waste of time.

I hate to say that. I do. Because I suspect this girl just wants to let it all out, and I was an angsty teen, too, once, back when God was a boy and I had my own personal Jesus. But for shit's sake do it somewhere else, and don't subject the rest of the world to it. Password protect that drivel, put it in your bedside journal, or just write it on notebook paper and then wad it up and throw it away.

It's obvious she just posts when she's got some new angsty poetry to share, or when someone has broken her heart, or when the weight of it all (although what "all" is I haven't a clue because I can't understand every third word) gets to be too much, because there's just not a lot here. And that's probably a good thing.

This is not a blog. It's a regurgitation of emotion. And someone should clean that shit up before the rest of us get it on our shoes.








And here's a bandage for your boo-boos. Cheer the hell up.







*Heathers

29 comments:

  1. I love my dead gay son. Just had to get that out.

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  2. Excuse me, I think I know Heather a little bit better than you do. If she were going to slit her wrists, the knife would be spotless.

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  3. Well here's to Martha Dumptruck and my own Personal Jesus.

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  4. CornNuts!

    Calamity, you poor thing. I knew it was going to be a train wreck yesterday when the music made me want to throw my laptop off my balcony.

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  5. I don't care if she's a big fat stealer, I still love Winona, Miss Ryder if you're nasty.

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  6. Nimpcompoop,

    What you are feeling and writing about is not love - it is hormones.

    Relax. Their effects will eventually subside.

    Bobby

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  7. Jesus God in Heaven, why'd you have to kill such hot snatch?

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  8. It's one thing to want someone out of your life, but it's another thing to serve them a wake-up cup full of liquid drain-o.

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  9. Wow, who knew so many were fans of Heathers? I guess I should have figured, given our target audience.

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  10. Dark, sadistic and twisted? Ummm, hell to the yeah.

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  11. I fucking love Heathers. And I'm a dude. I'll be out gleaming the cube tonight.

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  12. Dude, Airborne was so much cooler.

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  13. Note to self: If I ever want people to make no mention whatsoever of the actual blog review or the blog reviewed, throw them a Heathers quote. Equally effective, perhaps: Breakfast Club, Pulp Fiction, Sixteen Candles, The Crow, and Raising Arizona.

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  14. God, Calamity, I love it when you beat the shit out of bloggers. It makes me all wet and stuff. And by stuff I mean "giddy with the scent of blood in the air."

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  15. Cal, cal, cal, there is nothing good to say about this blog.

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  16. "Rantings of an average every day physco"

    Is this the same as psycho or is physco the same? Or is perhaps Physco a comapny that supplies gym stuff for schools?

    The bigger question might be, is she in fact a purveyor of bad poetry and low cost gym supplies??

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  17. Yes, some good can be said about this blog. Human expression is alive and well and this author has a decent heart. Better to blog away these thoughts than inflict self harm, I say - and if this blog is the tie that binds to sanity then I say good job. However, clearly this very young woman lacks the common sense needed to avoid putting herself in the position of being torn apart, even despite the irony that it's for this very reason she deserves to be torn apart.

    I hope she begins to grow into a strong woman who can decide to grow as a writer of her thoughts - or just stops altogether and finds her true calling.

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  18. Hey LB, you lazy bitch, howsa bout you update the quote of the week. Unless you like it for the 'quote of the decade'.

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  19. did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?!

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  20. Start saying something funny and maybe she'll change it:)

    Wait, quote of the decade, that's pretty funny.

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  21. I am a lazy bitch, I'm not gonna lie. But what about your slackers who've surrendered the funny lately? What the fuck can I do if you've stopped bringing the funny?

    Jesus. Take some personal responsibility.

    Gap: This girl should do with her emotions what the rest of us did in high school: write them down in a pretty pink notebook. NOT PUT THEM ONLINE TO POLLUTE THE INTERWEBS.

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  22. I was just about to leave a comment being all "What the hell, the writing might suck but that doesn't mean there is any necessity to bash someone's outlet for emotions."

    But then I got intelligent and read your faq and now am adding this to "blogs I follow."

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  23. Yes. Another blogger comes over to dark side, where we have hard liquor, hard words, and cookies.

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  24. Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw. You paid her in puke!

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Grow a pair.