Like Throwing a Hotdog Down a Hallway

Pull up a chair, Ginny from Praying to Darwin is today's guest reviewer. You might recognize Ginny from her weekly appearances at Canada's answer to the Cheetah Club, Teaser's Burlesque Palace. Catch her every Thursday for Hot Mamas on Da Pole Night. When she's not busy perfecting her inverted butterfly she's sharpening her mad writing skills. -Miss Missives

So one day, I'm minding my own (read: my neighbor's) business, just sitting on my couch (read: peeking through the curtains at my neighbor's husband in a car with a woman who is NOT my neighbor), when I get an email from Miss Missives. Would I care to do a guest review? Hellcat, yeah! Hook me up!

So I get my assignment: “If You Can't Say Something Nice”. Immediately, the smart ass twelve year-old in me wants to submit a blank email as my review. Come on, you're fucking begging for it. But that's just rude. And the title sounds a little gossip-y. And there's a cheesecake-looking picture in the header. And cha-ching, sex toys on the sidebar! So maybe...

But what's this? She moved? After she invited us over? (Note to self: try that move the next time my husband invites the in-laws over.) We're not off to a good start, here, Randi. While your blogger template was perfectly mediocre, the wordpress template is fugly. Seriously, you can do better. Damn near any of the free templates would be an improvement. Make it easy for us to get around; I'm a lazy, lazy woman. I like archives, I like a list of categories.

Randi's a mommy-blogger. And she's prolific. She's been at this since 2005; last year, she posted more times than I brushed my teeth (Say what you will, but my dentist fucking adores me. And my insurance.) There's a whole, whole lot of every day, diary entry stuff. If this blog is just for family and friends to keep track of you and yours, then carry on. If not, for the love of all things holy, pare it down. Write that post, go back and read it, figure out what the point was, then get to it. This post was going somewhere, then just stopped, abruptly. This one started out as a goodbye to a friend's dog, took a hairpin turn, and ended with a defense of a racial slur. (I can't agree, by the way.)

“But what about the sex-toy reviews?” “Get to the dildos, already!” I had high hopes. But here's the thing. Once upon a time, the office I worked in had a receptionist named Susan. Susan was in her 50's, had a tight perm, and big, white-rimmed glasses. She liked to hang out “with the girls”, and talk about S-E-X. It was, in a word, off-putting. The reviews smacked of Susan. Do I believe Randi is a very kinky girl, the kind you don't bring home to mother? Probably. Does it come across in her reviews? Nope. “I'm fairly sensitive down there.” Sweet mother of god. Cunt, pussy, vagina, box, penis garage. All terms I'd rather read in reference to your hoo-ha than “down there.”

You're probably asking, “Hey, Ginny! Who the fuck are you to criticize?” Well, the answer is, nobody. And that's kind of the point. I'm the Joe-lene the Plumber of readers. The average person who looks at a blog isn't going to slog through hundreds of posts to get back to that one story you told that was worth reading. You've only got a few seconds to catch us lazy-asses.

My advice? Do your blog Kegels, Randi. Tighten that shit up. Only post when you have something to say. If you're going to do vibrator reviews, go hard or go home.

For now, it's a meh.