I LOVE MY SANDALS!!! THANK YOU SANDALS!!!

Hi Kaylyn! It's me, Mongoliangirl. Thank you for submitting your blog for review here at Ask. It's always a pleasure to have the opportunity to review a thing or ten from the blogosphere.

And now for your review...

...oh wait! I've got something else I'd like to share first!

My head exploded because I lost my glasses and my cell phone in the same week and then I got BIG NEWS! Yesterday I thought I was going to fall asleep in this meeting I was in because I sat in the most comfortable chair in the room and I was thinking I had to stay awake or it would make me a very, VERY rude person. I would like to have one of those chairs in my living room. I HATE THE MALL!!!!! Sorry for yelling. Did you know writing in ALL CAPS means someone is YELLING??? My friend James taught me that a few years ago when I sent him an email in ALL CAPS. He thought I was yelling at him and I didn't know why until he told me typing in ALL CAPS is technospeak for, "I'M YELLING!!!" In other words, I just yelled, "ALL CAPS" twice!!! Thanks James! You're the best friend I ever had!!! You teach me about life!!!!

OK...um...tahtah for now, Kaylyn! Thanks for reading! Rock out, sister!!! Thank you to everyone who has made my life good! Yay! You!! : ) Yay!

See? See how that works, Kaylyn? Just when you got geared up to read the review of your blog, you had to deal with a bunch of tidbits, trivia and surface tripe about my life.

That's what your blog does. Your 'About' page describes dealing with an event that caused you and your husband to realize you were on a path that was going to take you nowhere. And then...

You claim a photographer not showing up caused your head to explode, while right in front of you is a graffiti covered building about which I wish you would write a story.

You actually post about the number 9. I learn that a nonagon is a polygon with nine angles and nine sides.

You tell us you discover the true identity of your father by way of finding a letter in your mother's things after she has died, and then...

Post after post after post about a rafting trip? Really? Kaylyn?

Look, I get it Kaylyn, I really do. I have family members and friends that I like to communicate with as well. OK, wait, let me rephrase that. Most of my family members would like to stab me in the fuckin' face. Whatever. My point is that day to day frustrations and events are best served by the likes of facebook, email, twitter, skype and various and sundry other communication tools. (Yeah, I know you posted about hating facebook and twitter. Get over it.)

In other words, why the hell are you blogging? If it's to say, "I LOVE YOU EVERYBODY!!!" or "I LOVE MY SANDALS!!!"; get a facebook account.

If it's to fully tell your story, then it's time to get busy.

Why not go back to that graffiti covered building and tell its story? When are we going to hear more than a newspaper-like report about when, just eleven months into a marriage, you were told your young husband may die or, at the very least, be paralyzed from the neck down for life? What was it really like discovering the true identity of your biological father by way of a sealed letter after your mom died? I mean, you told the DJ's on the 'Morning Zoo' about it; why not us? I don't know about you, but I'm guessing lots of people would go through a very serious period of, "What the fuck, Mom?" Where is that story?

There's no reason you can't put something together, Kaylyn. Seriously, your writing is clear and straightforward, and you've already avoided some blogging snafus such as a bunch of random clutter in your sidebar or never ending posts.

At this point I'm only inclined to give you a MEH. But I'm going to put you in my reader and see if you can't dig in and give us something a little closer to your core. Otherwise, I'm guessing you'll never exercise the internal muscle it's going to take to be able to write that book. And no, the internal muscle I'm talking about exercising has nothing to do with learning how to do a nice, solid set of kegels.



P.S. I LOVE MY HUSBAND!!!!!
P.P.S. JACKAMO SACKAMO WOW!!!
P.P.P.S. Here are a few places to learn a thing or two about telling your story:
Post Picket Fence
Praying to Darwin
Sometimes I Make Lists
P.P.P.P.S. Let's all have a moment of silent reflection, Askers, to be amazed by how little I used the word fuck, and that I did not once threaten to retrieve my crow bar. ROCK ON!!! I LOVE YOU!!!