Not Quite a Review, But a Little Revolution.

I understand I've got a big bra to fill, and I just want to assure you all: my breasts are impressive. They are a goddamn handful. To quote one who put it so eloquently, "I have big boobs and poor hand-eye coordination, which is why I am not a fucking surgeon," and why I blog instead.

Now that we've cleared that up, I have a few things I want to get off my chest (breasts?) before cranking into latent reviews.

There's this thing that Love Bites taught me, although unintentionally. Unless she was sneakier than I suspected and planned it all along, in which case: well done, madam.

Anyway.

All personal blogs fall categorically one of two ways:

Do you like this?

or:

YOU FUCKING LOVE THIS.

Neither is stylistically better than the other. Both have merits and faults.

Love Bites pilots the latter. She commands our attention with transparent, honest, emotional rhapsody. You know what mood that bitch is in even if you've never read her words before (does anyone else imagine her sipping willingly-given blood out of a teacup?) because you feel her zeal slapping your face. More importantly, you like it. That's why you stomp in front of her with a smuggy shit grin when you see her swinging her arms around like fury on fire.

There are a lot of people 'round these parts like that.

Even if you don't jive with her style or nod along to her opinions, you like reading what she's got to say just because she says it fuckin' good, and she's says it good-er than the majority of the other assholes with a homerow. That's red, raw talent.

You know she's not really going anywhere, which is why I wrote this in the present tense. She's no longer our fearless leader, and we will miss her terribly.

Still, I'm taking the hell over. I would like to thank Love Bites for this opportunity to be an asshole, and I hope that I'll do her justice.