Middlesex

Miss Missives has a general love for the odd, disenfranchised, different, marginalized, and fringe elements of society. Selfishly, I gravitate toward these people because they have some of the most fascinating stories to tell, stories you will never hear from the soccer mom or the angsty teen. They often tell tales that rather than be relatable, grab you for the very fact that they show a part of life you could never see on your own. Sometimes it's just another door to peak in through and sometimes it's a bridge to seeing someone's humanity.

So when I read that my reviewee was a

BDSM loving, dyslexic transsexual

I poured myself a big glass of cheap red and hunkered down expecting quite the read. Michelle, do you want the good news or the bad news first? The bad news is I didn't get the read I expected. The good news is, you are indeed just like everyone else.

It is probably a tad unfair that I judge a blog by what I want it to be, by what I know it could be, by what I know would draw people in and make them come back for more. Michelle's blog is her own and not a Choose Your Own Adventure where I get to pick the direction she goes next. Still, there's so much I want to know, and yes, much of it is her life as a transsexual but not for the prurient reasons you might think. Now after a little digging, I did come across some of her BDSM photos and got my first look at the cha-cha of a post-surgical transsexual--so, okay, a little prurient(it looks just like any other happy cha). Michelle does put herself out there but there is also so much she holds back.

In one post she says

the short time I spent on some psychiatric wards was among the more humorous and enlightening times of my life.

Michelle, where my dear are these stories? How did you figure out you came delivered in the wrong packaging? How did you come to terms with it? How did you tell your family? How did you evolve to the woman you are today? What did you think of Transamerica? Are these too painful, too personal perhaps, but these are the things I'd ask you over lunch and wine.

It is possible that Michelle has written more about this than I give her credit for because I couldn't read the entirety of her, as of last count, eight different blogs. Yes I'm not even joking. Miss Missives can hardly handle her own blog, reviewing duties here and a little Facebook and Michelle manages to juggle eight different sites to which she posts regularly. Who's the better woman now? Michelle is analytical and clearly likes to compartmentalize things, hence eight different blogs. There is the main site submitted for review, there is her home page, there is Linux Crusade, there is Technilife, there is the Story of L, there is her photoblog, and ShootGreen-her other photography site, and finally there is her bondage site. Oh, and she twitters too.

Michelle works in the Computer Engineering field and it reflects in her writing, technically adept, detailed, methodical but sometimes lacking the emotion and fire that I think such life experience would provide. I completely ignored the computer, photo and technical posts because I had my hands full with the more personal works. There are loads of technical posts but even her personal posts feel distanced. Maybe one has to put some space between themselves and their feelings when they have faced a hostile world for so long but I just know she has more to say.

Michelle, I'll tell you the same thing I told MongolianGirl, at least once a month, pick something you are afraid to write about and write about it anyway. I think you have stories to tell that you're not telling. These are your own words and they are right on.

What do I need? I need to shout. I need to scream. I need to take risks and feel the angry wind in my hair. I need to push my limits; to slam down the accelerator and drive like a maniac; to bear arms against the enemy and pit my wits in a battle of survival; to pilot an attack helicopter ... I need to destroy things; but in the name of good ...

You, like most everyone else need to edit, edit, edit. For example, this is very good but a little editing would give it oomph, momentum. There was a great deal of good information but even the most personal pieces often felt distant, plodding and technical. There were some things that stood out, like this and this and even this. And Michelle, you minx, you switched templates mid-review but I like the changes and your clean, uncluttered designs(yes, all 8 of them) get big gold stars.

Michelle, your blog is yours to do with what you will, and the very fact that this blog is a bit boring shows that you are a person like anyone else, and not just a personality, caricature or headline. If you want a good example of how to connect with a reader, share stories--even painful, unflattering ones, how to write about difficult and highly personal subjects, check out yesterday's reviewee. Look at this compared to something like this. One of the most amazing things about blogging is how it can connect people who might never cross paths in life outside the Internet. You have an amazing opportunity to connect with the world and show people who you are.

For having the courage to be your authentic self, you get this











For designing and managing to juggle so many blogs you get this:





For making said blogs feel like a four inch thick Linux Manual and making me trudge through so many, you get this:

She Doesn't Need To Shut Up, She Actually Puts Up

In this world that we were born into, in this life we've been given, we come to recognize that it is made up of a strange and frightening combination of fragile, strong, evil, love, light and dark.

We come forth and are thrust into this jumble of madness and told to make sense of it all. To experience, but not this or that. To love, but them not those. To take it, but not too much. To give, but to those who deserve.

It's not a clear picture, and there are roads that lead to destinations that are dark and life rattling. Where you become your environment, and it has a hold of you entirely. It all but makes you life's bitch.

If you're lucky something else happens. Something wonderful and just as troubling. Something even harder than sinking to that dark place that you struggled to get to in the beginning.

You recover.

So what happens then? What happens when you've been to the bottom and you lift yourself, fighting tooth and nail, hand over hand to the top again.

This happens.

The Melindaville Blog washed over me and held me close. Her words wrapped around me like a soft, warm blanket. What is The Melindaville Blog about? In her own words:

My name is Melinda Roberts Tyler and many people have told me I have had a fascinating life. In my lifetime, I have been a professional actor and musician, worked as an exotic dancer and high priced call girl, as well as started the world's first fantasy phone call service. I was a member of San Francisco's punk rock scene of the 1980's, performing with the band, "Wild Women of Borneo," during which time I became a hard-core heroin addict. I recovered from addiction in the mid-1990's and became an honors college student, a fully funded doctoral student, and an award-winning professor of psychology. I am currently writing a detailed account of my life experiences in a memoir, whose working title is "Lost and Found: A Journey." My purpose is to tell my story to inspire others if they desire change in their own lives and to increase awareness about the need for free and available treatment in our society.

I could sit here and nitpick about little things like using the word 'blog' in the title, or the crowded sidebar with unnecessary items like the calendar. I could harp about how far you have to scroll down to get to the archives. I could slap Melinda on the hand for saying "dye their hair" instead of exclaiming that wild women COLOR their hair as I learned in hair school. But, then I would be the world's largest douche bag.

Melinda takes you on her journey and when she tells the tale, you are right there in the room with her. Right there in the hotel room as a call girl. You are sitting beside her in her lonely little apartment, infested with cockroaches and library books. She takes you on the path of her recovery without seeming whiny or self-obsessed.

I thank Melinda for asking us for a review, but I have to decline. I cannot review you, Melinda, because simply enough:








Instead? What I want to do is sing your praises and share your words with the world. Melinda is the type of person who doesn't just sit around, telling you how to make the world a better place and change lives. She actually changes lives.

Wishing I'd traveled the hippie trail

There are a couple of topics that, if you write about them consistently on your blog, I'm liable to be sucked in. These are: James Bond, sex, being young and horny during the years 1991-1998, the beach, unicorns, pop culture, grammar and usage, ABBA, historical fiction, porn, and traveling.

And of these, traveling might hold a dearer spot in my heart than some the others. At heart I'm a frustrated vagabond. I know that a lot of people get bored looking at other people's vacation slides. Not me. I want to see, and while you're at it give me a running commentary. And if your travels consist of roughing it, or going the long way around, or going somewhere tourists don't tend to go, or going by yourself? So much the better. I'm an escapist, I guess: I want to go with you, even if it's only through reading your stories. Hell, one of my favorite people is Rick Steves.

I wasn't sure about Toukakoukan: In at the Deep End when I first clicked on the site. I thought, "Oh, another Long Way Round." The design is kind of clunky and a bit basic. But it gets the job done, with the intro right there on the front page telling you where to start. The About page is informative, but nowhere does it explain Toukakoukan. Also, Sam, add a map -- it's a good way for us to tag along. A search option wouldn't go amiss, either.

You read it chronologically: The trek starts in May 2008, but there's buildup to the trip beginning in August 2007. You can skip the buildup, though, because it's mostly bike repairs and girlfriend drama and, well, buildup.

Initially Sam takes on a motivational-speakerish tone, but this quickly disappears (for the better). At first he seemed a go-getter, which can come across a little frenetic and disingenuous to me, but I'm more cynical than I realize sometimes. But quite soon it became obvious that this is a smart kid. Really smart. And more independent and inquisitive and, frankly, mature than most I've come across, including myself.

It is, ultimately, a diary. The posts, although smart and interesting, are a bit unpolished. This is both understandable and forgivable: he's writing this from the road, stopping in Internet cafes when he can, recalling tales and experiences and people. And though a little slipshod, his writing holds these great little kernels of character and wry observances and keen insights.

I'll admit the discussions about bikes and gear bored me to tears, but I'm a girl. And Sam is so cheerfully game, irreverent, and strangely wise for one so young. I don't normally excerpt in my reviews, but I really liked these:

"...only yesterday I spent the night in a ditch, which is not as bad as it sounds surprisingly."

"I hastily put down my, by now, sodden map of Corsica to wave at a group of eight German overlanders who were passing by just as I realised I’d spent the last 6 hours going in a circle trying to get to where I already was."

"I arrived in Chur, bent down to take off my motorcross boots as they’re as about as suitable for walking in as a chastity belt is for the reverse cowgirl."

"Bumper cars sit gently rusting, never having heard the playful whoops of children in their midst."

So, it's a little scattershot, the paragraph spacing is nonexistent, he goes a long time between posting (hell, he's living on a bike, I'll give him a break for that), and maybe there's a little rambling philosophizing going on, but do I care? No. Not at all. Because this guy's traveling around on his motorcycle, seeing the world and meeting people and having spills and letting us tag along for the ride. I'm a sucker for stories, and this guy's got one. Not to mention the truly great photos.

Yes, it's been done before and documented. But every journey is different, as is every traveler. And Sam is a talented storyteller with an engaging perspective and a unique voice. Once he took to the road, I couldn't stop reading. And I'm not done yet.

Sam, good job keeping track of this once(or twice?)-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Don't let the experience slip away -- document everything with intention. And when you get settled and are off the road, come back to the blog and spruce things up. I hope you're keeping a written journal, too. Take the stuff you've written there, add it to the great things you've got going here, pile in the photos, and really make this a cohesive and detailed documentation of your journey. It's fascinating, you're a great guide, and I can't wait to read more.







*The Hippie Trail

Love Bites: Render, Tearer, Gnasher, Slayer

Today is not your lucky day, Travis J. Morgan, Philosopher, Artist, Poet and Musician.

Let me give you a tip: Titling yourself, in this way, gives off a strong odor of douche. The review is going to go downhill from here.

Frankly, dude, I think that you were either born in the wrong era, or had a traumatic head injury during your service (though, I do indeed salute you for serving). After listening to fingers and thumbs, I'm leaning toward the latter.

I actually think that this is the first true "hipster" blog that we've reviewed. I can visualize this guy, performing his poetry on a darkened stage in some smoky lounge, while overdressed twenty-somethings with artfully messy hair and hiphugger pants and white belts listen quietly while raising glasses of expensive beer to their lips. And if they like him, they snap their fingers, in unison.

What can you say about a guy who thinks he's coined his own phrases and wants to be quoted? You want to be quoted? That isn't a process you can force. You have to do the work on the inside, and say something real, for people to want to repeat it. Glibness isn't enough.

I'll give you this. The ink blot art is bad ass. But who paints a roll of toilet paper? Were you inspired during your last drinking binge whilst hugging the cool goodness of a porcelain bowl to sketch what you saw on your handy i-phone?

There are a few things I like. I like the site map button at the top of your page that gives us quick access to all your posts, by category.

I like the blog design, it's clean and uncluttered.

As far as your posting, though, you aren't saying anything that Henry Rollins didn't already say better, and before you even arrived on the scene.

In fact, you could learn a lot from Henry Rollins, now that I think about it. And, failing him, try Robert Ingersoll or Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Let's compare, shall we? This is you:

I am a cynic in the sense that I think that people intrinsically have underlying selfish motives whether they be conscious or unconscious. I have doubts in pure altruism, meaning that I think that most if not all acts have a selfish motive. While some acts may have been acted on in the interest of another, I doubt that those acts do not also have a selfish motive. To me, this can even be the “good” feeling you get from helping another. People will argue that when they perform such an act (which they call an “altruistic” act), they were only concerned about the others well-being. Yet, these same people have high regards for performing altruistic acts, and they get a high from attempting to do so. To me, this is yet another selfish motive that renders the act altruistic-less or at least not purely or only altruistic. - TJ Morgan

What is that, like a term paper for your ethics 101 class? Couldn't you have said that in ten words or less? Even Jesus put it in far simpler terms. I'm not a big fan of Jesus, but at least he wasn't a wordy fuck.

Compare your quote to this:

If abuses are destroyed, man must destroy them. If slaves are freed, man must free them. If new truths are discovered, man must discover them. If the naked are clothed; if the hungry are fed; if justice is done; if labor is rewarded; if superstition is driven from the mind; if the defenseless are protected and if the right finally triumphs, all must be the work of man. The grand victories of the future must be won by man, and by man alone. --Robert Ingersoll

Do you see how clean, how spare, how wonderfully unfuckedwith the prose of Robert Ingersoll is--in comparison to your thesaurus vomit?

Your blog needs two things. First, you need to lose your sense of having figured it all out, and your godawful sense of self-importance, and you need to cultivate wonder. Why are you blogging? Why do you think anyone would want to read this blog? What are you doing here? What do you hope to accomplish? Aside from feeding your huge ego, your blog doesn't do much. And, there is no wonder to it.

Secondly, you need to stop intellectualizing and start living. Start putting your flesh and blood on the fucking page, man. This calculated pose, this superficial philosophy, it sickens me. No one is going to recite a quote simply because it has big words in it.

There is nothing real on your blog. You want to be quote-worthy? Say something real. Real things resonate with all of us and are worth repeating.

Henry Rollins once said:

I think about the meaning of pain. Pain is personal. It really belongs to the one feeling it. Probably the only thing that is your own. I like mine.

See how real that is? I love that fucking quote. And it applies to you, too. Find your pain. Embrace it. Write about it. That might be worth reading about.

What you have on your blog right now--isn't.


For now, I give you for having the ability to write, but not the heart. And, for wasting my fucking time while you jacked off your brain.

The Motrin Mommy Attacks

So. Fucking. Predictable. Have added an introduction to the review (sorry, Pos). Hopefully, they will organize a boycott and we'll get thousands of hits and lots of free stuff.

/blog whore mode.

Stuck Between A Punk And A Hard Place

Askers, please welcome a new reviewer to the team: Vivian VonDoom. You can read more about her here. - Love Bites



Let's keep today's review short and sweet. It's Friday and it's a holiday weekend. We're all feeling easy and relaxed.

It's known in my small circle that I have a soft spot in my heart for a few things. My soft spot things include: zombies, hobos, teenage werewolves and punks. Churchpunkmom, I now have a soft spot in my heart for you too.

Unfortunately, even this tender heart place can't ignore the fact that your blog seems to be suffering through an identity crisis.

Let me ask you, do you want to be this or this? Frankly, I prefer this but I'm not all anti-mommy blogger. I'm not a big fan of memes or awards. I think the concept of Wordless Wednesdays are fine, but you can do so much more. You are a writer at heart but you are also a mother, and believe it or not? These two things CAN be combined. And, combined well. You can be proud of your children and the every day things that make up your life. You know what else you can do? You can write about it. But, if you do, please write about it well. REALLY write about it, instead of taking us on gushing, rambling rides through the mundane.

Let me give you an example of a blogger that I think you would enjoy and who embodies what I feel like you could really be. Here you go, thank me now. Thank me again later. She talks about her daily life, her little boy and she posts pictures. She does it all in a way that you really feel her in every post that she puts up. It's all her, all the time.

Embellished Truth and Polite Fiction is not going to find its way onto my Reader anytime soon. My honest nature is going to force me to tell you that I was bored. Really, very bored. So bored in fact, that while I was taking notes on your blog, my notepad ended up looking very much like your template. Which is bad ass, minus all the badges, buttons and bullshit. However, I think if you could just figure out what you want your blog to be, then we'd have a whole new ball game.

I hate to give you a Meh, but what choice do I have?








What I'd rather give you is an "In Treatment".








You're not quite sure of who you are or what you are doing in that space, but with some work and understanding you can kick some major ass.

No reviewing here today. No reviewing here today.

Can you tell I've been watching Disney movies with my kids again?

Instead of a review, here are some great sites with blog designs (freebies) that I've found lately. Some of you should consider using them. Yes, that was a not-so-hinty-hint.

Dante Araujo - these are all new blogger (not classic blogger) and wordpress templates.

Deluxe Templates - great galllery of free templates, and some really creative fun stuff in this one.

iPietoon

Blog Bulk

How to design your own template (and some links to some great blogger galleries)


Enjoy.

Don't Tell Me You're Brilliant. Just BE Brilliant.

Dear Friends of Jessica:

Thanks for stopping by. Before you start reading, a few points of clarification.

First, we don't review ANYONE without a request that we do so, and a rather intimidating site submission process which you can review here.

Secondly, we'd already reviewed one of Jessica's sites, Sue Doe Nim, and it was given a positively glowing review. We do not have a built in bias against Jessica.

Thirdly, NO ONE here in these comments has ever attacked Jessica's children. WE DON'T DO THAT.

For the record, three of the five full-time reviewers here are moms. One is a wanna-be dad. We can be absolutely scathing to mommybloggers, but that's ironic given that 3 of the 5 ARE, in fact, mommies who blog.

Fourth, I am quite protective of my personal identity. People can react in fairly extreme ways when they aren't loved quite as much as they believe they should be here. I'm sure that won't be Jessica's response to the review she requested, but some bloggers are, unfortunately, not quite so mature. Some might even stoop to real life harassment. I personally find that shocking, but then, nothing should really surprise me anymore.

I hope you can understand that the anonymity allows all of us to be both blunt and fair. At least, that's our shtick, and we're sticking to it. I'm quite certain that Jessica understood our shtick when she nominated us for two awards on blogger's choice this year.

Lastly, the review delivered to Jessica, THAT SHE REQUESTED, was scrupulously fair, and quite meticulous, and was written by a guest reviewer who did not know her, had never visited her blog, and did not realize that she was, in fact, Sue Doe Nim.

We hope you enjoy it.

I personally stand behind every word, as do, I'm quite certain, the other reviewers.

-Love Bites

A guest review from Posol'stvo the Medved.

Ah. Into the minefield I tread. Stepping lightly today folks, as one of the first things I learned about Jessica Gottlieb – is that she is an unabashed Mommy Blogger and she doesn’t get mad, she gets organized. To hear her tell it, she single handedly (well, her and a bunch of other Mommy Bloggers) brought down the great and powerful giant, Johnson & Johnson and their horrific and evil Motrin ad. They call themselves the Motrin Moms. (I personally viewed the ad. I didn’t think it was too terribly demeaning to new mothers. I’ve certainly seen worse. But who cares what I think? I’m a middle aged man.)

She gets organized, and she talks the talk. She's been on national TV. She lists all the different ways that she knows to attack someone else’s website. She even has a disclosure statement on her blog. This Mommy Blogger means business.

So folks, I’m being nice today. Purely out of self-preservation.

I think that it’s fair to say that Jessica and I are like stripes and plaid; like a pseudointellectual who can’t wait for his kids to grow up, leave the house, and become human beings, and a Mommy Blogger; like someone who recently ranted about his disdain for the use of the term “baited breath” and someone who uses said term; like a registered independent and a registered republican; like someone who is not enamored of self-promoters and someone who is clearly trying to make a living promoting herself.

In other words, I am not in her target audience. But she asked for a review, and I am going to give her a review. An impartial review. A fair review. So here it goes.

Jessica – you claim that your blog is a mommy blog, but I would argue that point with you, as you do relatively little talking about your progeny, and much more talking about the commerce of Mommy Blogging itself. Or posting of context lacking photos forwarded by your mother (A picture may paint 1000 words, but at times, a little setup goes a long way). Or linking us off to the several other sites that you are a part of (Why do you keep pushing us away? Was it something we said?) rather than writing something yourself, or about yourself.

As I read, (and I did read about half of your output here) I was struck with the feeling that about 1/8 of the posts had what I consider real content, content that resonated with me, content that made me care and want to keep reading. The rest? I sorta slept through. I could tell that they weren’t there for me.

A couple of hints: That thing you do, where you post a couple of lines and then have a “Read the rest of this entry” link? Yeah, I followed maybe a handful of those. But too often, the >rest of the entry wasn’t enough to keep me looking for more. Your posts are short enough as is – all these links do is annoy your readers. And since you make no bones about the fact that you get revenue from ads on your site, they seem to be a transparent ploy to increase page views.

I’m also baffled by the fact that in one post, you blasted Walmart and their 11 Moms, and then two posts later made a big announcement that you are now one of the 11 Moms. Just days apart. This made it clear to me that it doesn’t seem as if you care if I read anything you’ve written as long as I cough up some page impressions for you.

And that’s a shame. When you put your mind to it, you can write really well. That post you did about slow roasted goat and urine? Brilliant. Beautiful. This post made me want to know you in real life. (Of course, then I read about how you have no use for male friends, so alas, I see that it shall not be.)

What else? Watch the spelling and punctuation. (Yeah, I know. But believe it or not, it matters.) Edit.

About the template, design, etc. The layout and template are clean, but you ruin it by filling that right column with all that excess crap (Resume Bucket? I’m a character? Social stuff? Stuff you can buy me?) that I suppose is doing something for you. But it does little for your readers. And I assume that you want readers. Yes?

[Aside #1: I am coming to the conclusion that I hate Wordpress. I am going to sign up for a Wordpress account now to see if I can’t find a way around the horrific 10 posts per page limitation. This is the only reason I didn’t read your entire blog – too many damn clicks!]

Overall rating? If I could do half a “Meh”, that’s what you’d get. No stars. No fingers. Just a half a Meh.



Write more about you, your hopes, your dreams, your loves, why you blog. Stop telling us how brilliant you are, and just be brilliant.

You appear to be up to the task.

[Aside #2 for all of you AAYSR regular readers – check it. Betsey Booms made a guest appearance in this blog.]

Girl, you'll be a woman soon

I like to think of myself as positive, cheerful, optimistic, even idealistic. The glass is half full, people are generally good, unicorns exist.

I realize now, after reading today's reviewee, that I may be these things, but for a 34-year-old. There's only so much innocence and idealism and cheerfulness allowed at a certain age, you know? Life doesn't let you hang on to that forever. Not entirely. Not without a healthy (or unhealthy) portion of cynicism and doubt and experiential reservation. These days I sometimes roll my eyes at the blind hopefulness of youth, the unswerving romanticism, the unfounded and likely-to-be-toppled idealism. But only sometimes.

Tabitha at Headed in the Right Direction reminds me that having hope, believing in something, and enjoying simple, innocent pleasures is worthwhile. They aren't my hopes, my beliefs, or my pleasures, but I can still appreciate the sentiment.

Her design is standard but with good tabs and organization. The About page gives us an idea of who she is and why she's doing this blogging thing, but Tabitha, you may want to include something about who Joe is here. Also, figure out how to import your old Blogger posts into your new Wordpress site, unless the focus of this blog is entirely different. I'm sure there's a way.

Now. I just want to warn my fellow cynical Askites: there's Bible study and devotional time and worship. Yeah. I know. But go with me on this.

She's young (that would be To Have and Have Not, not Honey I Shrunk the Kids) and in love (8 months? Get back to me after 12 years) and mostly cheerful and a bit naive and innocent in a charming way.

She's funny and honest and she tells a good story. Tabitha's a comfortable writer who knows her voice. And at 24, that's really very impressive. She rambles, but it's a cohesive, entertaining ramble, for the most part. She's long-winded and wordy, but it kind of works for her. Tabitha, you could stand to trim some of the fat from your posts -- go through and edit. But for the most part, I like your style, I like your rambling stream of consciousness because you do it well. A less skilled or personable writer would lose us in the words, would annoy the crap out of us by leading us hither and yon. But you do a pretty good job of drawing us in and keeping us there.

Tabitha gets it. She knows she's writing for an audience, even if she writes for herself first. "Cuz let’s face it, if I didn’t want input, responses, reactions, etc., I would make it all private, or just put it in a physical, paper journal, ya know?" -- Exaaaactly.

I liked this blog, in spite of myself. In spite of my wished-for cheerful optimism, I'm often a sneering cynic, especially now with bills mounting and love getting away from me and age settling in around my eyes. Reading Tabitha's blog was kind of refreshing, really. I don't share her values or religion or frame of reference, but she's kind and silly and thankful and so very eager but also, honestly, a talented writer. I can't help but wish her the best.

Tabitha, some further words of encouragement: you've got the conversation down. Branch out a little now. Get more creative, push your boundaries. Live in the words rather than just saying them. You tell us your stories with lighthearted optimism. Delve a little deeper, not for darkness but for truth, for maturity, for something at once raw and polished.

Style Over Substance

FML. Sometimes, I draw my assigned blog from the queue, and on first glance, I think, "Jackpot." And I get excited about the opportunity to discover something new and wonderful.

Anti-climax.

This is a beautiful blog design. Really, a sweet fucking design. It's stylish and looks good, and the blogger has clearly put plenty of time into it. It looks like the blog of a writer, a serious writer.

But, what this design needs is a backstory, a way for new readers to quickly figure out what's going on here. It's all well and good for longtime readers (if you have them), but happening onto this blog for the first time, it's fucking baffling. I have no idea what this guy is doing, or why, and have to go clear back to 2007 to get some idea of his mission here.

The fashionable owner of this blog has also mucked up the design by making it too fucking busy, what with the twittering, and the calendar, and the archives (you don't need a calendar AND a list of archives, it's fucking duplicative), and the song, and the blogroll, and the not clearly defined photo link buttons in the right column that link to who knows where and who knows what. It's like he's taken a sleek and tailored suit and mucked it up with a paisley shirt and a striped tie and impossibly colorful socks, and totally inappropriate sneakers. The blog has style, on first glance, but it's impossibly complicated.

I tried to figure it all out, including the who and what, but it's Monday, and I can't possibly do anything so complex at 11 a.m. on a Monday morning.

Also, what the fuck is this blog about? I guess the original plan was to combine writing and fashion, but somehow, that plan got lost. This week, we have "posts" that consist of puppet basketball players (youtube repost), movie trailers with a paragraph about summer blockbusers, some stenciled clothing items (WTF?), and a Where the Wild Things Are youtube repost. And, the week before that, there was some dude's travel schedule to Europe and some dude proposing to some chick, and I have no idea who that dude is, or why I should fucking care.

So, like, what happened to WRITING? You know, that thing you do with WORDS AND ALL, that doesn't require linking to youtube videos and/or posting stencils of fashion?

On the best of days, Mr. Blog Author whose name is never really mentioned in this blog, I'm not into fashion. I'm currently wearing flannel pajamas with Winnie the Pooh on them. I wear Ann Taylor like it's fucking garanimals because I don't have to make any big statements and it all matches. Ann Taylor helps me avoid looking like a fucking idiot by taking a huge fashion risk and failing abysmally.

So, in the luck of the draw, you got the reviewer who is the least interested in fashion, and has no real sense of style.

But, even I could have rewarded him for some delightful writing.

Which, sadly, was non-existent.

My advice? Either do it, or don't. But stop dicking around. Either you're committed to this blog, or you aren't. If your level of commitment to this blog is youtube videos, hang it up.

You used to be a blogger. I don't know what turned you into this sheepish schmutzy poster of youtube videos, but it sucks.

For your content, I give you:



For making me come off as a bitch again when I wanted to fucking love you,

What, the curtains?

Have you ever seen the poncy prince from Monty Python and the search for the holy grail?

All he ever wanted to do was burst into song!

This week's blog put me in mind of that. Our author is a 22 year old physiotherapist who only wants to don his leotard and trip the light fantastic.

The look is nothing new, basic blogger template, but at least it's been kept white and tidy. Nothing to write home about.

Kid, you are good at this writing lark, technically at least. You craft and shape posts, they are structured and paced, and read well. Almost methodically.

I bet you line your shoes up according to lace length outside your bedroom door of an evening too.

The thing is, while it's nice to see, it gets boring. You need some flesh on those bones.

You lean heavily on quotes and lyrics as the seed for your entries, too heavily. I'm not bothered what Gary Barlow thinks of things, if I read your personal blog I want to know what you think.

You write a lot there when you are bored, or fed up, which accumulates into one big whine. Regardless of what you write it's to a certain standard, but it would make a huge difference if you wrote more about what excites you, the things you love, your passion. Have a look at the difference between this and this. Or this and this. Which posts are better?

When you write, you pass. When you write about your real interests, you excel. Write about dance, write about the redhead.

I think you blog because you think you should, not because you are driven to. You have capabilities that help you pull it off, but over time you will be found out if it's not sincere.

Personal blogs need a heartbeat, yours is there, but it's faint. Forget the moaning and the 'I-don't-know-what-to-write' rubbish. Live and write, or don't.

For making me chuckle at the campness & ditzyness, and for being a good post crafter, one of these. More? That's up to you.




For the whining and run-of-the-millness:

Rochelle, Rochelle

Several years ago I spent the night at a swanky hotel with that month's illicit paramour. This is of course before Miss Missives was in fact Miss Missives and got paid to leave the shoes on. I was what I would call easy but choosy and I chose right because we were up until the wee hours of the morning riding each other like roller coasters. Yes, John Mayer, my body is a wonderland.

I woke up ravenous and perused the room service menu for something good. As my eyes scanned over the poached this and frittata'd that, one magic word popped out at me, brûlée. No it wasn't the dessert menu it was breakfast, oatmeal brûlée to be exact. I was so hungry I ordered two. When it came, much like myself, it didn't disappoint. It was steel-cut Irish oats that must have been simmered in sugar and cream or half and half rather than water. It was like an oatmeal risotto, creamy, starchy, goodness. The top was covered with plump, pristine berries and the de rigueur brûlée crust that gave way as I broke through it with the silver spoon. It wasn't dessert, it wasn't breakfast, it was a little piece of post coital serendipity.

I bring this up because there is Crème Brûléed oatmeal and there is oatmeal. Rochelle over at Shoe Porn is serving up heaping spoonfuls of oatmeal, sans the brûlée, minus the fresh berries, maybe with a meager handful of bottom-of-the-box raisins thrown in.

On her first post she warns us,

this is not a foot fetish blog, please move right along.

Too bad says Miss Missives, it might liven things up a bit around there. If you want some hot this little piggy went to market action, you'll have to go here or here because Shoe Porn is pretty much just a bunch of shoes.

Now I love shoes as much as the next girl but the danger of blogging about one thing almost exclusively is you run the risk of banality. Remember, Sex in the City featured shoes as it's 5th cast mate but it wasn't the star of the show. Seeing post after post about shoes with little real passion or heart is like looking at someone else's stamp collection. Thanks, no. The unfortunate part of all this is that Rochelle can write. I don't know if she's really shoe-obsessed or maybe just felt her blog needed a hook. She may have a true passion for shoes but the shoes and the writing don't come together to form anything even remotely meaningful.

The blog design is simple which I generally like, however, for something as vivid and graphic as fashion, design is paramount. Would you marry a beautiful pair of Christian Louboutin perfection with a drab, boxy dress? Likewise, the sidebar looks like a woman who can't stop with one simple fetching accessory and instead bedecks herself with a slew of sparkles and spangle. The drop down archives are good, the About Me weak and in general, the whole thing feels terribly half-hearted.

My advice Rochelle is to close it down and start fresh. Write about living in South Africa, write about your job, your love life, even about your shoes, just not exclusively. Don't be affected or purposefully coquettish or clever, just be yourself. Because really, I think you can write but this blog is about as useful as two left shoes.

Don't stop, just get better.

I like to reward improvement and personal growth. Kudos, pear and mia.

The folks you meet

The other day on my personal blog I wrote about my people. About the folks you meet who are instant connections, who fit, who just get it, get you. I was talking about face-to-face people, but I've found in my three years or so of blogging that my people are out there in the ether, too, churning out words I can relate to, being hilarious and insightful and smart and dirty and just my people.

A couple of months ago I found another one. They crop up like that, out of the blue, in unexpected ways, from a link or a post or a tweet. And there you are, connecting with someone you'd have never met otherwise, whose words resonate and whose personality shines through the screen.

Coincidentally, I pulled Here in Franklin out of the virtual hat to review today. I'd already been getting to know her, but today gave me a welcome opportunity to go back over the months of her blog and read it all.

She uses one of my favorite standard Wordpress themes. It's clean, uncluttered, and easy on the eyes. But I really hate the click to see more option in the archives. It's just so much work. I'm exhausted now. And if you can figure out how, Franklin, I'd add a search feature. That aside, she's got the About page nailed, the archives dropped, and her sidebars neat and tidy. Well done.

As LB illustrated in yesterday's review, boring blogs abound. But here's a writer who can make the most mundane, everyday thing (how much more everyday can you get than McDonald's?) interesting. She's southern, which wins her points from me, since I'm all southern fried. And Franklin is funny, y'all. She even has a sense of humor about cancer. She writes beautifully and confidently about silly, flippant things. No, really. Look at that grammar (which is fine, even though she rails against it -- and semi-colons are your friends). Admire the spelling. Revel in the gorgeous, well-constrained paragraphs.

She smart (she auditioned for Jeopardy, which just makes her my favorite person ever). She's not a natural housekeeper (me, neither). She's well-traveled. And I just pretty much agree with her (I can even forgive her the dog thing).

The only complaint I have -- which isn't a complaint, not really -- is that we don't get a lot of guts here. Oh, Franklin's entertaining and a stand-out writer and funny as hell, but she doesn't give us the inside scoop. Maybe it's because she's not anonymous. Understandable. But I am left wanting just a smidge more. A little more heart and soul.

Still, even without it, I fucking love you.

The Dangers of Natural Juices. Or, FFS--what were you thinking?

Sometimes, people submit to us, and it just makes me tired. I get tired of saying the same damn things, over and over again. Do you ever get tired of reading the same reviews, over and over again?

FFS, what were you thinking, Pear? Your review is going to consist of the same routine stuff we harp about, week after week, day after day.

Sometimes I feel like people just aren't getting it. Sometimes I KNOW people aren't getting it.

1. Very Very Strange Title. Anyone who reads this blog regularly should realize that there is an almost infinite level of perversity that can be drawn from the phrase "In Natural Juice." If you question this, just ask Keywork. FFS, what were you thinking when you chose this title for your blog?

2. Fugly template. This template is based upon myspace tables, which makes it too narrow (see all the wasted space on each side of your computer screen?). It's a black background with lavendar text (No. Seriously, just say no to templates that make it harder to read your stuff). It has no connection to pears. FFS, what were you thinking when you chose this design, which looks like it was developed by a moody 13-year-old hot topic girl?

3. No back story, which means I have difficulty getting and keeping an interest in you and your writing. I don't know who you are, I don't know why you're blogging, and I don't get the point of it all. There is no introduction to the main characters (that I could find). Do those things, and link to them in your sidebar, if you plan to be a blogger.

4. Boring content. I don't know who you are, I don't know why you're writing, and your story is not compelling. I don't know how to say it any clearer than that. This is a journal, something to keep on your desk or under your bed. There is nothing here for someone who doesn't know you. FFS, what were you thinking, submitting this to us?

Let me give you a taste of the content:

Something that made me warm and fuzzy was when we were making dinner. We had peeled the vegetables, and the meat was on.. while the veg was steaming away, I asked M-moo if he wanted his hair cut.. "What, tonight?" "Yeh, come on!" So he came back into the kitchen, we turned the radio on and I did a little trim of his hair. M-moo's hair is starting to get the helmet thing going, so I thought I'd try and blend in the sides a little to the rest of his hair. I didn't stress out too much over it, just remembered some of the tricks I saw online, and gave it a quick go. It turned out pretty good considering I'm no hairdresser!

Another nice thing is making the desert - it's basically a tin of pears (in natural juice, of course) with a cake on the top, baked in the oven. The cake is gluten free and pretty easy, just a little messy. I've done it so many times now, I don't really have to read the recipe anymore.

Picking carrots from the garden is just brilliant. We havn't brought carrots from the supermarket for months now. Today was great, I got one orange, one purple, and one yellow variety that must have been a stowaway seed - since I didn't order any yellow ones! It tasted really quite nice, and I think I'll be ordering some of those next time. Lovely surprise.

M-moo will be home soon, and we'll eat hot yummy desert. We plan on going to bed early because we have a long drive tomorrow.. and going to bed early adds to the chance that good things will happen. ;)

It certainly beats going to bed late, being grumpy as hell and definitely not making love.. *sigh*

It's like Pear's gluten-free diet has been translated into content-free content.

Who would possibly be interested in reading this? Pear, are you actually thinking about what you're writing here? "Picking carrots from the garden is just brilliant." FFS. You didn't even give us the recipe for the dessert. And I'm not mentioning the spelling issues, ahem. Also, is M-moo your granny? Auntie? Child? Lover? Not clear, at all.

A blog is about telling stories. You're not telling your story here, you are giving a rote recitation of the day's events. The only person on the planet who cares about this stuff is your mother, and based upon this post, you two don't get along.

You have 79 total posts and have been blogging since October of 2008. That's about ten posts per month. Each of them reads something like the one above. Except the ones that are even more depressing:

Now I have what I always wanted and waited for.. a husband and a house. It sounds tacky, but it's true. Now that I have it, it's a lot different than I imagined. That's becoming the standard thought since moving-in 3 months ago. Nothing seems to be what I expected. Perhaps its everything that's going on now that is bringing out all these mood swings. Stress, change - I don't like change - responsibility, challenge.. there have even been times when I've wished we could go back to simpler times - even times and places I've disliked in the past - just because it was simpler.

This is a diary entry of a lonely 20-something. You need friends. You need a life. You need something to write about. Please get out and do some stuff, and then write about it. Or, take a concept like the one above, and flesh it out, into a story. Why did you want those things? When did you want them? What did you imagine they would be like? You don't give us any meat here. It's all very superficial. "I feel this." "I'm moody." You don't describe anything or suck us in. These words keep us at a distance and are completely unapproachable.

Your comment function is also buggered. If you change templates back to blogger standard, that might fix it as I'm pretty sure it is a problem in the code of the template you've chosen.

Pear: You list us as one of your favorite blogs. And, I'll be truthful. I don't want to beat you up, because you seem like a sweet, and rather fragile--verging on the depressed side of things--girl. I don't want you to slit your wrists, and after spending an hour or so on your blog, I don't put it past you.

Clearly your blog serves some purpose for you, for venting, or speaking your mind, or whatever. But, it doesn't serve any purpose at all for me, as a reader, and I doubt it will appeal to any of the Ask readers, either. Reading your blog, at present, is not a pleasurable experience.

So, blog away. But, ffs, what were you thinking submitting here?


p.s. Heh.

Chronicles of Hernia

Case No. 02 of 2009
India Chronicles vs. AAYSR
Per Crowley, J.

Is it Sheer Coincidence that my first Two Reviews here are of blogs written by Sad Old Bongs* (Bongs = Bengalis, for the benefit of all non-Indians)? Or are my Brethren On The Bench trying to tell me I ought to get rid of my South-Indian Fetish and chase some Bong Tail instead? Oh well, onward, Christian Soldier.

You may notice that a lot of words in the paragraph above are unnecessarily capitalized. Well, that’s only one of the many problems that plague India Chronicles, our latest victim. In short, this blog bored me more than the 40 pounds of litigation brief currently lying on my desk.

India Chronicles is written by one Taposh Chakraborty, who claims to be a reporter of sorts. Whatever it is he reports on, he sure doesn’t do it on his blog. If you can call it a blog at all, that is. Once you wrestle your way past the ten millionth panel of his Tota-Myna (Parrot-Mynah) comic, and his tangential poetry, you realize that this gentleman of letters hasn’t written much at all and what was there wanted to make me tear my eyeballs out.

I wanted to go Timothy McVeigh on TC’s arse, but I have a headache the size of Indo-China after reading his blog, so I’ll just get down to brass tacks.
Will the Petitioner please rise?

1. Your template. Hang on, what template?

2. When you use the word ‘Chronicles’ as part of the title of a blog or any other piece of writing, you are generally expected to chronicle SOMETHING, which, in itself, is a hard enough task. But, when you decide to call your blog ‘India Chronicles’, you up the stakes all the way to Mars. Chronicling an entire country is what only newspapers can do with any amount of success, and you, my dear blogger, are not a newspaper. Not even a newsletter. I’ve seen public notices that are more entertaining and informative. So, ditch the title, because it just doesn’t stick.

3. Now that we’re past the flaccid title, where’s the writing, friend? Oh, sure, there’s a bunch of comic strip-y panels (which are roughly as funny as root canals without anesthesia), and there’s some very obtuse poetry, but nada when it comes to writing. One post on dogs, another one on patenting, and a third one that meanders from chimpanzee behavior into karma and genetics. Fun stuff. Really. Oh, and your views on international politics and diplomacy need an honorary mention at this point:

Why am I writing all this historical stuff ? This myopic eurocentricism is by now well known . After Korea , Vietnam , Iraq , even BBC openly calls its work as “embedded” journalism – not for nothing it is funded by British Foreign Office ; and brazen American`s used to schedule Iraq bombings according to CNN/NBC news schedules! No wonder America has not won any of its wars after WWII. So , why all this now ?

You call this chronicling? I call it whining. Comrade, communism died while you were writing poetry.

4. Are the readers of your blog geriatric or of failing eyesight? No? Then why are most of your posts in this font size? Come to think of it, no two posts on your blog are the same font size or the even same font. Does WordPress hate you that much? Are you aware that you can just type out the post in MS-Word and cut-paste it into the blog’s compose page to avoid these funny-sized posts? A word of advice. In the unlikely event that people do read your blog, the least you can do is make it easier to read.

5. If the jumbo font-size wasn’t bad enough, your posts never quite seem to end. For example, it took 21 punches on my laptop’s Page Down key to reach the end of this masterpiece. And this post is in, what, size 8 font? AND it’s not actually posted, it’s a JPEG! Look, if it takes an entire weekend to go through 10 of your posts, then very frankly, I’d rather read an accountancy manual.

6. It’s been said a gazillion times before on this site, and I’ll say it again – EDIT, EDIT, EDIT. Your writing is rambling, tedious, and full of typos and grammatical errors. And may I revisit the dangers of over-capitalization? As a former corporate lawyer, who’s had his knuckles rapped several times for errant capitalization, I say this – Capital Letters = The opening of a sentence, proper nouns and defined terms. Any other sort of capitalization is as Irritating as an Overdose Of Ellipses And Idiots who Wiggle Their Fingers while talking to Emphasize Ellipses. Look at this last sentence. Don’t you feel like beating me up?

7. Your poetry. In my book, if it isn’t Ted Hughes, E. A. Poe, or Ogden Nash, then it isn’t poetry. You, Sir, are neither of the above. For better or verse, if you must broadcast your poetry, why not post it on a separate page, like this young lady, and spare us the torture, eh? It boggles the mind that someone has published two volumes of your dribblings (on the other hand, J. K. Rowling managed to hook a publisher, so why not you). But is it imperative that you scan the lot and slap it on the internet? This is cruel and unusual punishment, counsel. I mean, look what poetry did to Sylvia Plath. (As you can see, I hate poetry).

8. Cairo is not a suburb, and it is certainly not an ‘Asiatic city suburb’.

9. Also, Post 1, dated 21.11.2008, and Post 2, dated 26.12.08. “Repeated with larger fonts, as asked for by readers”. This is criminal.

I have nothing further to add. This Court, therefore, grades you thusly:

Popat.
‘Nuff said.

*Ok, so the first one wasn’t old and wasn’t really sad either, but still.

Body of Evidence: Musician Mommy v. the English Language

This week's victim is really more of a perpetrator if you examine the evidence. Instead of finding a crime scene teeming with torn bloodied appendages, corpses strewn about and epithets penned in blood, you have morbid amounts of random capitalization, ellipses scattered about like shotgun shells left behind after a bank robbery, and more medical talk than an episode of House.

So if MusicianMommyMayhem is the crime scene than I guess today I'm Dr. Fucking G. Nothing like a good autopsy no?

The suspect in question is Larissa, a twenty-something mom who has recently returned to school to pursue a degree in criminal investigation and I hope that's going well for her because the blog? Not so much. Larissa says that,

this is a place for me to spill, unfiltered and untamed

Unfiltered and untamed fine, but you can edit, no? The ellipses, asterisks and gratuitous use of caps nearly drove me to felonious assault. Seriously Larissa, what is it with the asterisks? As for the ellipses, for the love of Charles Manson, I plead of you, finish your thoughts. Much like most serial killers have rituals they employ over and over again, is excessive punctuation your modus operandi, your signature? Larissa I know this is supposed to be your space but you have committed a serious crime against the English language.

This blog is more repetitive than the Law & Order franchise. It is replete with talk of Larissa and her husband's medical problems. Now in fairness, Metallidad has diabetes and Larissa has Fibromyalgia so yes, illness for them is probably front and center. Still, does anyone actually want a breakdown of how well you've slept or haven't slept the past few days? Do I really need to know that you need to see a podiatrist? I know this is your place to unload but is this fodder you really need to reflect upon? I actually read a post entitled The Back of My Head is Numb. Thank you Larissa, that was five minutes of Miss Missives life she'll never get back. A blog is not a place where you wax on about picking up your prescriptions, stopping at Walmart or getting a reservation at Red Lobster. If you are submitting here and expect any kind of praise, it had better be about the writing. I know diabetes is serious but when your husband gets a toe amputated and you cannot even make that interesting, there is a problem.

As for the design, I actually like your header but it's aligned strangely and the tremendous widgetry has got to go. No one is going to MusicianMommyMayhem with the expectation of finding out when the new moon is and the live traffic feed is beyond unnecessary. If you want to keep the music quotes and behemoth blogroll, put them on a separate page. The graphic signature screams amateur scrapper, get rid of it.

Here's the positive. Greyson, your son, is beyond adorable. This post is getting a thumbs up if for nothing more than its brevity. This is the best thing I read. It has a point and a chronology that makes sense. Please note, not every post has to be serious or heart-wrenching but clear, coherent, non-medical ailment related, finished thoughts are a good start.

Yes, I'm levying some pretty serious charges here. When Musician Mommy offers her services as a proofreader, I just about accidentally discharged my weapon right in my mouth. Another post finds Musician Mommy posting lyrics. Nothing says fourteen year old's diary like lyrics people. Nearly everything I read was stream of consciousness, the stuff that belongs in your head, background noise, an internal to do list. Yes, you can brain dump all over the Internet but then don't leave your little corner of the web looking for a review.

Other than that, the indictment is as follows:

ADW, assault with a deadly weapon, the weapon here being a keyboard.
Aggravated assault on the English language.









I sentence you to blogging oblivion and issue you three of these beauties.

Basking in a Pool of Human Desperation; It's the Right Thing to Do

Sidle up to today's guest reviewatrix, Mongolian Girl. Be nice or she might offer up one of her pumpkin muffins. -Miss Missives

Know what I want you to do Jeremy Kerman ? I want you to sit still and pay close attention while I tell a little story.

Last month my husband, Hellbilly, and I were finishing out a horse stall. That means I had a nail gun in my hand and was pressing one end of a 2x10x14 board as hard as I could against a post with my shoulder. Know what that board decided it was going to try? Moving a bit out of plumb. So you know what I did? I dug my boot deeper into a pile of horse shit, pressed so hard against that board that I thought my shoulder was going to slide out of its socket, popped a nail into it to get it to stay put, and then popped about 20 more nails into it. Then I stood back to admire my work, waved the nail gun around in the air over my head, and said, “That’s right, you fuckin’ bitch. You stay where I say you’re gonna stay, ‘cause me and this nail gun? We’re your fuckin’ daddy now.”

That’s what it looks like to push a dream into reality, Jeremy. You may think the dream Hellbilly and I have of raising, training and showing American Quarter Horses is…whatever. I don‘t care what you think of our dream. I care what we think of our dream. And what we think is that we are going to press our minds, bodies, souls and emotions so far into this dream that, even if it fails, we are going to go down in flames with our pride and integrity intact.

Your blog is easy for me to look at. I appreciate it when someone offers up a simple, white canvas. It makes me think that the owner of the blog must have a great picture to paint on that canvas. But that‘s the problem, Jeremy? The picture you are painting is nothing more than some kind of washed out watercolor thingy that‘s about as interesting as that pink poke-a-dot skunk one of my Great Aunts painted and gave me for by 14th birthday. And Jesus, the Essenes, and even my fucked up bitch of a neighbor, Rotunda know you are capable of it telling your story, Jeremy. Your writing is clean and crisp, letting me know you are capable of telling a story without going on and on and on until I decide finally cleaning that tiny piece of cat shit out of our bathtub is more interesting than reading one of your posts.

You went to UC Berkeley and got a degree in Mathematics. You followed that by working for a Congressman, going to NYU Law School, and then working for a corporate law firm. Then, of all things, you decided to dump the entire thing and pursue your dream of becoming an actor.
Nobody, I mean nobody, spends as much time as you did in college and pursuing a career, walking out of the entire thing to become an actor, and ends up without a story to tell.
Instead? You give us this, this and this. Oh, and this. What the fuck?

This is what I want to know:
When did you first start to realize you were headed for or in the wrong profession?
How did you try to avoid this truth?
Getting drunk?
Fucking anything that moved?
Hiding out in your apartment watching Judge Judy while jacking off into a bag of Cheetos?
Why did you go forward with the status quo for a while anyway?
Guilt?
Pressure from the outside?
Ego?
Fear?
What kind of shit did you pull for the Congressman?(I’m not retarded, Jeremy. I know you pulled shit for the Congressman. Spill it.)
Who at that corporate law firm did you want to fuck all night, torture and kill, have as your mentor, stand up to?
How have your old classmates, friends, and family reacted to your choice to become an actor?
Have you had to tell any of them to fuck off, get out of your way, anything?

Let’s talk about this: You actually say that Simon Cowell of American Idol is the only person in Hollywood who is willing to directly tell someone they stink. On top of that, you mention, in the very same post, that you think Al Pacino must have gotten his start as an actor by having to wear a smelly bumble bee costume.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Simon Cowell and American Idol are a disgrace to anyone who ever cared about the dreams of another human being. Stop watching American Idol. Stop watching TV altogether, for chrissake. That shit you wrote about Fox News discovering something about the Large Hadron Collider made me want to hurl. The only thing Fox News, CNN, MSNBC or any other news outlet of their kind have ‘discovered’ is how to boost ratings by way of drama, trauma and sanctified bullshit.

Go watch Dog Day Afternoon and wait. Wait for and then take in every single moment of the character named Leon Schermer.

Watch This Boys Life and take in every act of desperation out of the characters Dwight, Caroline and Toby.

Check out Carlito’s Way and bask in the pool of human desperation that seeps out of the David Kleinfeld character.

Give every moment of your attention to the characters of Little Bill Dagget in Unforgiven , Sam Cayhall in The Chamber, and especially Harry Caul in The Conversation .

Fall into disillusion with the character of George Hanson in Easy Rider .

Then? I want you to find these people. No, not the actors. I mean real people who are living desperate lives. People who are desperate, just out of prison, suffering, grieving, dark, maimed, twisted and broken. Meet these people. Talk with these people. And, most importantly, lay yourself bare to these people. Then shut up and listen. Why? Because they are going to tell you the truth about yourself. And then? Find the people in Hollywood who make you squirm. Those people who have either lived desperately or exposed themselves, without judgment, to those who are.

Otherwise, I’m afraid you’re going to end up doing one of two things with this notion you have of becoming an actor:
1) End up a famous asshole who simply produces more American Idol-like shite to clog up the airwaves, or
2) Completely fail at becoming an actor and come away from the entire experience having learned nothing and looking around wondering where your pride and integrity have gone.

I also want you to completely dump your blog and start a new one if the reason you are not telling your story is because you’ve given your URL to people you don’t trust to handle your innards when you lay them out.


½ star for an uncluttered blog, crisp writing style, and having a story to tell if you would just fuckin’ tell it.





If you do dump your current URL and get a new blog, I want to know.

Oh, yeah, and here’s a flaming finger for linking to a site called Dame Magazine that claims they are ‘for women who know better’. I suggest you find some women who actually do know better, but have decided not giving a flat flyin’ fuck is a much better idea if they’re going to get on with their lives.