Friday, April 17, 2009

Part One: Of Humoration

Leeuna Foster is a professional humoringulist, and though it’s possible I might have copied her byline down improperly, that’s a pretty heavy title. I mean, it’s up there with telling the batter what pitch is coming, or phoning-ahead to tell an embassy when you’re planning to blow them up – telegraphed like a bad pass, and two steps behind what no description would bring in terms of expectation. As things stand now, of course, Ms. Foster has to make me laugh.

Fortunately, she is neither snotty nor condescending, atypical of self-proclaimed humour-bloggers, and I’m assuming that this is at least partially because she is an honest-to-christ professional writer, a paid scribe in possession or her own humour column. This fact cannot be overstated, and certainly not around here, with the limping reams of violently-offensive grammatical atrociousness we receive with regularity. Her work flows, is concise and astute, the very antithesis of what we’ve all come to expect from the humour-blog genre, and my relief is a goddamned rainbow of appreciation.

This is what I like to call Grown-Up Writing: mild, inoffensive pabulum, the soft, palatable alternative to the writing that makes you jump out of your seat like both it and your ass were on fire. My pop, Dadjobber, also writes for a newspaper, and his work is very similar: Disneyfied, Nickelodeonized, with an eye to the wide-market, mass-appeal of any newspaper’s circulation. Ms. Foster isn’t, nor is she likely to become, someone who’s going to make me fall out of my chair or spit coffee on the screen; if I’m looking for Jimi Hendrix, which I am, there aren't enough tie-dyed headbands or gasoline-torched guitars in the universe to make Pat Boone into what I'm hoping for. Ms. Foster isn’t writing for me, nor, presumably, would she or should she care to. She’s writing for people who want the Big Mac and the option of salad, and I’m reading at the greasy-spoon down the street.

My Mind Wandered... (the actual name of the blog, I believe) is observational humour that stands a couple of ticks above, “what’s the deal with airline peanuts?”, and has none of the oomph, the aaag, the omigod-there’s-a-zombie-behind-me-GRAAAAAGH! that I tend to look for whilst clicking through cyberspace. Then again, I need my eyeballs sliced against the edgy writing of surprise, of the inexplicable, of head-scratching delight, so take that into account as I slide into the seamy underbelly of personal preference.

I’m going with a couple of these:



Nothing about Leeuna Foster makes me the slightest bit uncomfortable, and that’s both heroically positive and unfortunately negative, neither of which makes her blog particularly bad.

Part Two: tomorrow. Hold on to your fucking hats.

134 comments:

  1. I felt the same way. I really thought this was gonna be a big bag of suck. It's not. It's not something I will read over and over, but she can write.

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  2. I prefer my humor with a smidge more edge to it. It's very nice, though.

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  3. So... a review will be posted on a Saturday? You guys spoil us.

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  4. It was well written, but I found it overly sanitary... like overhearing a conversation in a church or something.

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  5. I am so fucking full of myself, I'm assuming that two zombie references in one week is solidly because of me.

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  6. Leeuna does remind me of a song, though, and she should take that as a compliment.

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  7. I like her. Though I dont think I read even one swear. How odd.

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  8. I was 3 posts in when she used the word "hubby". I loathe the word hubby. Other words I hate? Panties, blog, relish, and the name Shirley.

    That is all.

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  9. Panties? Whats wrong with panties? What about the word moist? Like moist panties.

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  10. Have you guys ever noticed that when people talk about words they hate, "moist panties" ALWAYS comes up?

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  11. Because I was totally thinking the same thing, and I didn't want to say it. Because it bothers me.

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  12. I dont hate moist panties. Well, I dont wear panties. But I dont hate the words moist and panties.

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  13. You know what other word I hate?

    Poop.

    It makes me very uncomfortable. For some reason, I feel like "shit" is just so much classier.

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  14. I find the word panties kind of infantilizing. I have nothing against panties themselves, though. And moist panties would mean my day's going quite well, really.

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  15. I hate the word poop. Moist panties don't bother me in the slightest.

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  16. I should hope not Ghost.

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  17. I enjoy the word poop. Dealing with the poop of short people, for whom I am responsible? Not so much.

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  18. Yea, poop doesnt bother me.

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  19. Dry panties are offensive to me.

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  20. It's not the thought of shit and moist underwear that freaks me out, it's the sound of the words.

    Poop.

    Panties.

    Shiver. Does anyone actually say those words? I'm like, freaking out right now.

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  21. Yes Rass, I say poop. I'm sorry. I do. Dont hate me.

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  22. I can't hate, all I can do is cower in fear and shame.

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  23. Real life Rassles Kryptonite? Yeah. Those two words.

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  24. No, stop that! I'm the cowering submissive today! You're the boss remember.

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  25. Not in this comment thread.

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  26. Really, I think the only word that bothers me is the "c" word.

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  27. Yea, the middle one.

    Nothing wrong with the other two.

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  28. Really Ghost, did you have to drag the cow down with this conversation?

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  29. Wait, can you even get chlamydia doing that? Can a cow carry chlamydia? I need to do more research before I start leaving comments like that last one.

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  30. what about moist poop panties? Even worse if your hubby is wearing them.

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  31. Poopface just sounds moronic.

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  32. That poor cow was just misunderstood.

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  33. Moist poop panties are wrong. Plain and simple.

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  34. Unless you're into that. Then I guess its ok.

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  35. If you are:
    shittingsluts.com

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  36. moist poop panties are within the realm of my expectations for a post on ghost's blog.

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  37. I might not be able to read that post if it ever comes.

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  38. Cmon, go check it out. Poop soup.

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  39. I dont wanna check it out and you cant make me. You're not the boss of me y'know!

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  40. I thought you were the submissive today.

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  41. OTOH : http://www.shittingslut.com/

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  42. Oh good grief. Just put a link up so he can just click it.

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  43. Than, that should have worked. Look, just google 'scat' and click on any of the links.

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  44. Hmm, old trolling habits. It was geek interest really. The domain name I posted is legit and gets traffic (http://www.robtex.com/dns/shittingslut.com.html). Yours has no domain info. As far as content, whoo, not now.

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  45. Fuzzy bunnies and tulips?

    Wait...nevermind

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  46. I hated the word poop before I became a mother. And now I HAVE to say it and it sucks. You know what else sucks? Having to clean it on a daily basis. Cunt, moist, panties. Those words just don't bother me. But I get what Rassles is saying about the sounds of words being the irritant and not their meaning.

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  47. Why am I feeling anesthetized?

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  48. Sarah, it's the internet. There's always something worse than {whatever}.

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  49. Yeah, I tweeted a link a few weeks back and forgot it.

    Cal, as long as you're not feeling aroused I think we're good.

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  50. Wow. An hour ago, 7 comments. Now? 64. And all of them about moist poop panties.

    I think it's clear that we have now hit rock bottom. And also, that Leeuna is NEVER going to be able to link to this review on her family type blog.

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  51. Oh no.

    I'm sorry Leeuna.

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  52. At least I didn't link to CakeFarts. Now that, is fucking extremely offensive.

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  53. Hurray for small favors.

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  54. She could copy/paste and leave out the comments. My bad Leeuna.

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  55. Way to count your blessings, Sarah.

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  56. This is the type of stuff that got me excommunicated from Laurieland I think.

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  57. When Part two comes up, we'll discuss puppies, traffic and weather.

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  58. I'm sorta shocked this didn't get a response from Fr. Gene.

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  59. I thought baptists were the ones with the bad gag reflex.

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  60. heh. I have almost no gag reflex. I can fit my fist in my mouth.

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  61. I think we just upgraded your Visitor Pass.

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  62. Makes for a fun party/stupid human trick.

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  63. I'm sure it does, Sarah, I'm sure it does.

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  64. Y'know everyone thinks its such a cool thing, but really its a little disturbing to watch. Not at all as attractive as one might think.

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  65. I think you're just hanging out with the wrong crowd.

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  66. And I always forget to take my rings off. That sucks.

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  67. I knew it! Gene's a baptist!

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  68. Gene, hows your sperm count?

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  69. Ps. I love soup. I wanna open a restaurant that serves only soup.

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  70. I'm guessing most of it isn't his.

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  71. The soup or the sperm?

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  72. The sperm. He probably could suggest a good donor if you don't mind waiting a few years.

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  73. years? Um, no. 2 is enough thank you.

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  74. Have you even fed your kids today woman?

    Mommy Blogger Extraordinaire.

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  75. Is this a puppy or a kid you are talking about?

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  76. Listen Friar Tuck, I'm not going to do battle with you. Do you want to know why?

    Because fighting on the internet is like competing in the special Olympics. Even if you win, you're still a retard.

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  77. who's fighting?

    Oprah any good today?

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  78. Y'know I just couldnt find time to watch her today. I was really hoping you would have a play by play for me.

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  79. I know, don't worry, it's hard to juggle surfing and daytime TV.

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  80. What exactly was it about GoK's juggling comment that was so polarizing, it brought the comments to a standstill?


    I guess we'll never know...

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  81. PTD: I don't know what happened there. I made no mention of scat, preteen semen, or Zombie Christ. Odd.

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  82. So what, exactly, are you saying here NJ?

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  83. Well, my friend, let's hope it is a record. I'm off to research your claim.

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  84. Uh oh.

    I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear, but I've set up my kid-trap in the backyard just to be safe - it's full of peanut-butter, candy necklaces and Miley Cyrus.

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  85. Good thinking, NJ. But you could have just asked Gene for one of his.

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  86. He's so far away, Ghost - think of the postage.

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  87. I had to go to work. Thats what brought MY comments to a halt.

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  88. *lurking*

    I find that cotton candy, puppies, edible panties and the kid from twilight makes for a good trap. I guess it all depends on the type of preteen you want to attract.

    *lurking*

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  89. The kid from twilight looks like he was whacked in the face with a shovel.

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  90. I concur. But a lot of the prostitots seem to adore him. Maybe they are all blind. Who knows.

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  91. Um, foxglove is my new piece of Canadian ass to chase. Yep. Ever been to Vegas?

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  92. Nope never been. You guys have different laws over there. That's why I like Canada. You only have to be 19 to do naughty things here...unless you go to Quebec, they have lower standards. You Americans though, I've only been of age for a year. Not much time to save up for a road trip, don't you think?

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  93. If I had wings I would fly away to my own island where I would have naked man servants bringing me tequila everyday...yup, I think that would suffice.

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  94. Surprise sex with a stranger?

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  95. That's a nice way of putting it, Sarah.

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  96. This is true. I bet if they saw you flying towards them they would just bend over and take it like a man...or woman. Make sure you find some tight asses though, you don't want the hotdog down the hallway effect.

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  97. Thanks. I work out.

    I lied. I so do not work out.

    Sperm? I do love the stuff.

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  98. I suppose if you did find a really loose ass, you could just crawl on up there and take a nap. It would be like a nice warm and moist blanket, bringing back fond childhood memories of being pushed through a vagina. I think it would be similar to that.

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  99. Nutjobber, 2002 was a fantastic year!

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  100. Tell me about it - all of my most heinous stories come from that summer. Crowd pleasers, every last one of 'em.

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  101. Exactly! Good times gooooood times.

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  102. Blah. Seeing the word Hammertown reminds me of my birthplace. Nasty ass steel city, the hammer, the shit of all existence. I have a theory about Hamilton, they are manufacturing zombies in the basement of Stelco.

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  103. Hey - does your birthday fall in the summer? 'Cause that factored into my 2002 quite substantially.

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  104. Nope, mines in February. My summer was in celebration of the start of my divorce.

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  105. That was for you, Ms. Glove - I'm writing this from the armpit of existence, your Hammertown.

    Also, a certain Ms. Booms, I think, will love your theory about zombies and their relative proximity to a certain Nutjobber.

    In short, you're all welcome.

    Sarah: Ah - a little vengeance mixed with a heaping helping of freedom = great summer.

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  106. absolutely. I enjoyed myself immensely.

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  107. Oh eww, you're writing from Hamilton. Oh my dear how I feel your pain. I lived there for 18 years and got the fuck out when I was accepted into college. I only go home once a year and that is for xmas. In my eyes that is once too many.

    Be careful of the zombies. They think I don't know about them. But I see what goes on in that city, even from afar. When the zombies are let loose, I will be safe here in the capital with my flame thrower and assortment of big daggers.

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  108. Eew? That's hilarious. Still shaking out the cooties, are you?

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  109. Shaking out the cooties? More like scratching off the grime. When you can practically blow smoke rings in the air by just breathing, there is a problem with the city. I would be more likely to scrape away my corneas than to live in Hamilton for more than my xmas holidays. Every time I go by Delta Secondary I wonder how I ever made it through that school. I'm not bitter, really, I swear it, rofl.

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  110. Hey, thanks for the great review of my blog. I have been working on developing a really tough skin since the day I submitted it for review. I figured you would tear it apart and use lots of not-so-flattering adjectives to describe it. I was totally shocked that I got 2 stars.
    A good review from this blog means a great deal. Yeah, I'm proud of it.
    Thanks again for the review.

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  111. You must be good, Leeuna. Normally, we are hell on professional writers.

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Grow a pair.