Q Cue Queue Que

BLOG: Que the Lights
AUTHOR: Xavier Burgin a.k.a. Xay B., college student at University of Alabama

The first time I pulled this site up, the first thing that ran through my head was "Oh my god, why the hell is this header image so big?" The second thought was equally critical and went something like this "What the hell is a 'Que'? It's spelled 'Queue' or 'Cue,' depending on your meaning, but I don't think I've ever seen 'Que' before."

Xay never explains why he made his header image so big that it pushes all of his content below the fold on my screen (and I'm at a 1650x1080 resolution -- there's really no excuse for it), but he does address the whole Que thing. I guess. (Sorry, I'm still not okay with it, and I think that you'll see why shortly.) Which leads me into my first substantive concern with the content of this blog. Unless you are involved in or interested in the greek life at the University of Alabama, much of the subject matter on this site is going to fly over your head or under your crotch or around your big fat gut, or somewhere unintended. Even when I was a young man in my late teens and early twenties, the allure of greek life completely eluded me. So, although I get that many young people love to have a place where they belong and all of that, I still felt as though I was standing off to the side observing rituals of a group that I could (and in truth, would) never be a part of.

Frat life aside, Xay is an aspiring filmmaker and photographer. Que the Lights is meant to serve as his online portfolio. This is an area I was hoping to find some commonality of experience. I've never studied, but I have been dabbling in the visual arts, photography, and aspects of film for years, primarily as a screenwriter, but also in the realm of some light directorial work. I was actually looking forward to reviewing this site, big ass header aside. I love short artistic student films. Generally.

So, my next biggest complaint is that there aren't more of these films. Instead, he spends an inordinate amount of time talking about what he's working on, or what he's interested in and why, but this writing comes off like a required school assignment. So, I want to go back to the films now...

I like watching the technical growth. Sure, not all were to my liking. The advertisements for frat events weren't really meant for me. Nor were the rap duels. But the films that told a story showed promise. And I would be very interested in seeing where this goes.

His photography is pretty amazing too. He does a lot of photographing people, something that I am not very good at. I feel that in order to photograph a person, really capture the essence of that person, you have to establish a very intimate bond with him/her. That intimacy is clearly on display in his photographs of people. My only quibble with the photography content is that his photography posts had way too many photos. They swiftly became overwhelming, diluting their individual impact. A lightbox style gallery that shows just one image at a time would be a much more suitable showcase for this work.

To tell the truth, the best part of Xay's filmmaking is the visual aspect. Sound sometimes was lacking, story sometimes vague or obtuse, could have used a bit less generosity in the editing process, but the visuals were almost always striking. Xay, if you were to ask me, I'd say focus on cinematography. I really think you have a gift there.

So, about the blog. What could you be doing better?

• Edit your writing. I know, I say that almost every time. But in this case, you have interesting ideas, but too often a word selection is enough off the mark to yank me right out of reader mode and into red-pen wielding editor mode.
• Shrink the header image.  It should be 1/3 the height it is. Or less.
• If you are serious about using this site as your portfolio, remember that a lot of folks who you want to see your work and look on it favorably won't be in your fraternity and so won't know what "Roo to the people" (or "Roo the people" as you say about 1/3 of the time) is supposed to mean. I still don't. I assume that this is not a statement of love for the offspring of Kanga in Winnie-the-Pooh. Correct?
• Your use of tabs is confusing. The top row works, where it serves as an entry point to a page on your blog about that topic, but the second row? I was annoyed that clicking on those took me out of the blog to an external site without really warning me that was going to happen. It would be clearer if you were to use the YouTube logo or something instead of a tab.

Okay, that's enough for today.

Four stars for your photos.



And three stars for your completed videos.



And zero stars for your writing, which should have been two, but my inner editor redacted two. Sorry. It happens.

Tally Ho!

I can’t believe it. I am an anal retentive bastard who never forgets, misses or is late for anything, and I totally fell prey to the curse that is Shiner’s List of Doom. Granted, the internerd in my part of town has gone all crazy spaz so I didn’t even know I had a review to do, but even so, I hang my head in shame.

But finally, here we are. Now, a little while back, someone joked about/suggested doing reviews as Haikus. Even as skilled as I am, I wouldn’t dare attempt that but I thought I would go down the Mr London Street and give the 100 Word Post a bash here. I wouldn’t want Becky to feel ripped off with a scarcity of words, so if requested, I will cheat a little and elucidate in the comments. . .

Pish Posh and Such: A 100 Word Review

Becky, when I dug back into your archives you didn’t charm me. It was travel updates and ‘this place is soooo beautiful’. Blah and meh. When you started drawing, I was charmed. I felt young, silly, guilty and nosey. Delighted I remained at your off-beat style of cartoon and your whimsical, everyday observations. I could almost forgive that you spelled obesity as obesidy and salute as solute.

Alas - where are your fans? Many a muppety reviewee has legions while someone actually worth liking, such as yourself, is bereft of comments. I hope this review can change that for you.

PS: ‘4 Stars’ is not included in my 100 words, just in case you were wondering. Or counting. Neither is the title.

PPS: Do you like how my Intro of Shame is longer than the actual review?

If Blogging Had An Infield Fly Rule You Would Have Fared Better, Assuming You Played Second Base.

Transitioning into running this blog is becoming very time-consuming. I've got to recruit reviewers with fucking spirit and gall and most importantly, the elusive "free time," which obviously counters the nature of a person with spirit and gall because they use their free time by "doing things" like "going outside" and "making babies" not by "finding really cliche ways to use superfluous quotation marks."

Speaking of transitions, I am awesome at them.

Barely Knit Together is kind of an excellent title for a blog, don't you think? It works, because this is kind of an excellent blog. Kind of. Usually. It's the story of one J. Monroe, mother and writer. Yes. Writer.

Monroe recently fled to Wordpress because it is very hip to do so, much like all of those people switching from plastic Nalgene water bottles to anything titanium because it's "better for the environment" when actually, it's better to use what you already have. But logic is fickle and dependent on marketing, so what do I know?

Things are soft and inoffensive over at Wordpress, and let's face it: her new template is kind of an aesthetic masterpiece, although the font needs enlarging and I don't know how I feel about the navigation at the bottom. It's a big improvement over the coffee-with-Steve-Jobs-at-Pottery-Barn thing she had going on in the old blog. Personally, I'm insulted by intentionally haphazard decorating. I find it rude.

But along with switching templates, she switched her title to J. Love Monroe, and I don't know how I feel about that either. It seems distantly ironic instead of a yearning heart unraveled. Much like Wordpress, it is very hip. I feel like the new title matches the old template, and vice versa.

At times, her words reek of forced happiness, like she's hiding on purpose, but it's understandable. Monroe is full of scattered emotions and passing depressions. I mean sometimes, she is so emo my tender sinuses riot, but she's just so poetic about her relentless ennui that I can't loathe her for it. Monroe is artful with her humor and she appeals to my empathy which is fucking hard to do. Then she writes these glorious little snippets or lengthy blends of fiction and non that completely allow me to forgive her for annoying, link-laden advertising posts like this or guess-what-I-did updates. There are many of these. I refuse to link them.

Still, who is perfect? Sometimes I just want to tell people I have a baseball instead of throwing it as far as I can. Although that is probably not a comparable analogy, because I'm incapable of holding a baseball without throwing the damn thing or breaking something.

And then there's this fucking Twitter Drama concerning stupid bitches I've never met nor uncovered in all my hours on the internet, and curiosity double-dog-dared me to click on some link to a site specializing in shit-talking one D-List media darling. But here's the thing: I don't give fuck, and you have to contend with my fatigue-bordering-on-disdain regarding celebrity/media personality gossip. It irked me, and it had the misfortune of being on the front page.

I feel almost guilty doing this, because she is so much more heavenly than previous IFLY's, but I just don't have that love for her, despite honest prose and charming uncertainty and I'm adding her to my reader with high hopes. Everything she writes is well-written, much better than any blog I've found in a long-ass time. She has serious narrative feel and linguistic skill, but I have yet to really care about her as a person. That sounds awful, but this is the internet, people. You can't love everyone. If you can tip the ball with your glove, you can catch the fucking thing.

I'll have a cocktail please, with funny in it

Most of the seasoned Askers around here are well aware of the general sentiment of the reviewers regarding Humor Bloggers.

You can imagine the weary sigh I let out when I started reading the earlier posts of today's reviewee to discover yet another Humor Blogger, fishing for ratings. So, another self-awarded graduate from the University of Funny, certified to club me to death with the blogging equivalent of tired, predictable slapstick wants a review. I began to wonder what I could possibly say that hasn't already been said. But a good educator is a patient one, and so I put on my ass kickin gear and prepared myself to write an exegesis on the suck that is Humor Bloggers.*

As I stared squarely at a header that looked just fuckin stupid in Firefox, a template lacking any proper About Me page with the dreaded sidebar of doom, I began to hope for Johnny B's sake that he had spent his time since submitting his blog for review invoking St. Genesius, the patron saint of comedians (which, I presume, also covers self-proclaimed comedians whose jokes flop like bored, neglected genitals. In any case, St. Genesius is also the patron saint of torture victims, so I believe all our bases are covered).

But Johnny B didn't need the help of any saints. (Besides, I gathered he's Jewish so I doubt they would have come to his aid). It turns out he's actually funny. And not the kind of funny that only includes doctored images of celebrity that are apparently certifiably funny because two million other morons have posted them on facebook and have littered your email account with them making you want to telepathically torture everyone on the idiot chain of forwards. I'm talking about the funny that comes from the depths of personality, that seems enviably effortless, that has such delightful subtlety at times making you know it has not been pawned from another moocher or has been rotting in his brain for so long that it comes out with too much volition.

Johnny B has the ability to make the reader feel like they're sitting in front of him having a beer, eating up the fruits of mirth he throws at them. He does clever commentary with personal humor, all the while treating his readers to one liners that stick to your brain throughout the day. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: good humor is like good sex; by surprise, from behind, and riddled with blasphemy, and Johnny B seems to get that.

The only thing I can really hate on here Johnny B, (are you listening?) is that you seem to have labeled yourself funny, which I think is hindering you from letting readers enjoy the entire spectrum of who you really are. You sometimes seem to want to go deeper, sometimes you meekly whisper about it. I already know you're funny, but what else are you? Your sense of humor is way too good to be smashed up inside a pre-fab jack-in-the-box where there's only room for a clown inside. You can expand your box and also put anxiety and frustration and pride and love and secret hysteria and your colossal fuck-uppery in there, or you can ditch the box altogether. I don't mean for you to peel back the layer of funny and give me tears and pain absent any humor. I'd be willing to bet that if you opened yourself up to sharing more of your various shades, your humor would find a way to seep into all the cracks and crevices available for humor inherent in those other parts of being human.

Here are a few examples of what I mean, examples of humor finding it's way into deeper unexpected places, that I think is probably one of the hardest things to do as a writer.

But you know what? The fact that this aspect could use some beefing up by you wasn't enough to make me put these four stars back in my pocket and save them for someone more deserving.






Because dammit, you made me giggle like an idiot today and blink wide eyed at you waiting for you to open your mouth again.

But if you tried to coalesce and commingle your humor with the other parts of your persona, it would all self-rise into a truly delectable concoction, and you'd get an IFLY from me.

*And then I discovered that Humor Bloggers is no more.

The Trouble With Scribbles

Well hello there! It's me, Ginny from Praying to Darwin, back to review, rip, rend, run down, roast....well, you get the idea. If it's a verb, and it starts with an “R”, and it's unpleasant, I'm all over it.

In my sights this time around: Scribbles.


I'm gonna level with you. First time I went there, I didn't get it.

Right there in her profile, she's using cutesy, vaguely foreign words like “ickle”. The layout is like listening to an accountant wax rhapsodic about deferred income (i e Boring as fuck. Unless you are an accountant. But even then, you should know better.) And most annoying of all, there just wasn't much to work with. Precision Grace has only been blogging for half a year. For the love of the deity of your choice, I have draft posts on my dashboard older than this chick's blog. (Oh sure, they're full of incomprehensible bon mots like “Say what you will, but in her day, Sally Struthers was one hot piece of ass”, but they're there, and waiting for their chance.)

But then.....

I submitted.

I said, “Hey, Ginny, quit being such a lazy ass, and read all 26 of those posts, if you're so pissed about the lack of material.”

Yowza.

Turns out “ickles” is British slang for little. That's the perfect description for what she writes here. Little stories that meander, and wind and end, and then you're left with this satisfied little feeling, and you're all like, “Hey, how did that happen?”

This snapshot of a writing class was brilliant and perfect. And this? Fuggedaboutit. I could try for a year, like really try, and not get anywhere close to that. When she started mind-melding with babies, I was just happy to be along for the ride.

She's not without her issues. The navigation is a freaking nightmare. I had to click on each month, then read through, because only the most recent post shows up on the front page, with no other option to read past it. (Or maybe I just couldn't find it. I'm awesome like that, sometimes.)

Usually, when I do this, I tell people to edit, tighten it up, cut their words in half. But in this case, I just wanted her to keep going.

To recap, it would have been an I Fucking Love You







but until you clean up the navigation issues, and maybe jazz the joint up slightly and just post more often, you little tease, you get 4 stars.

Papa, Can You Hear Me?

A review from People in the Sun:

I feel I have to start with a short introduction to--oh, I hate the word--Daddy Blogging. You know, for the haters.

I collect blogging fathers. Not the weirdest hobby in the world, but not the most common one either. I even have a blog where I present my collection. It all started a few years ago, when I visited an old friend who had one-year-old twins. When I told him we were thinking about having one of them baby-things ourselves one day, he said, "It changes everything." I asked him what he meant, and he said, "You know, everything." Now that I'm a stay-at-home father, I'm still not sure what he meant. But by reading other fathers' blogs, I begin to connect the dots.

Maybe what my friend meant was not simply, "You don't have sex anymore," or "You get to relive your joyous childhood moments," or "Having children is very expensive." Maybe he was referring to the change in our self-identities. How quick are we to embrace the change we don't fully understand? How honest are we? Do we try hard to hold on to the Man part of our identities because we're afraid the Father will take over? Or do we embrace the Father part of ourselves to the point of looking back at our pre-Father days with scornful disbelief?

Just like everything else in life, apart from Nutella, it's all about moderation. When it comes to blogging fathers (or, you know, Daddy Blogging), it means embracing fatherhood and accepting the fact that Everything Changes (even if we don't know what it means), while making sure we don't write as if we've invented fatherhood or as if our children say the darndest things. In other words, a father's blog, just like any other blog, works well when it deals with the writer's honest expression of his individuality.

I think SciFi Dad, writing in Tales From the Dad Side, has found the good place in the middle. It's unashamedly a parenting blog. On his About page, SciFi Dad even makes sure we know this is not a random blog, but "primarily a personal parenting blog, where I write about my experiences and uncertainties as a father." But even with a blog that uses Dad in the title, written by a man who uses the word Dad in his moniker, writing about being a father, this blog always keeps the writer and his, well, uncertainties at the front.

What else is there? Well, the navigation is cool. Just to prove me right, SciFi Dad's drop-down label menu is all about the different sides of his life and the way they're reflected on his blog, creating a full image of a real person.

It might come off as me taking the easy way out here, but as long as he includes links to his favorite posts, why shouldn't I follow his lead? There's the one where he decides to listen to his parenting gut rather than to experts. And the really funny one where he goes back in time to help his stressful father-to-be self. Oh, and there's one I even linked to from my Facebook page a month ago.

There are two more posts on SciFi Dad's Best Of list. One talks about the pain of being away from the family because of work, and the other explains his parenting style comes simply from his unconditional love for his kids.

The existence of these posts explains the difference between a Love You button and a Four-Star review. Most of the blog was, for me, just a little too cute. Maybe it's because SciFi dad is Canadian, and everyone knows nothing bad ever happens in Canada. Because everyone is so goddamn nice (apart from the guy who decapitated the guy sitting next to him on the bus. He wasn't nice). Or maybe it's the way he ends nearly every post with a question for the readers to answer in comments (although, to be fair, I only noticed it today, even though I've read the blog for months). Or maybe some of the funny stuff, which SciFi Dad does very well, is there to hide the true SciFi Dad--the one who comes out in those two posts he admits are more "Unfiltered."

And another small thing, SciFi Dad. It's not you--it's me. Or maybe it is you. But I've never seen you in the comment section of your blog. I know you get a lot of comments on most posts, but other bloggers with more comments do reply to each one, even if it's just a single-line reply. I know you care about being a part of a community of bloggers, so it makes sense that you treat the comments as additions to the conversation you had started with the post. It makes sense to me, anyway.

Don't get me wrong, I fucking love you. And to prove it, here are four shiny stars.

'Cause in the city we're ourselves and electric too

I'm not a city girl. I'm not a country girl, either, for that matter. Nor am I a country club girl or a suburban girl or a southside girl or a campus girl. I'm not precisely sure what location descriptor might fit me best, really. Perhaps I'm a midtown girl. Whatever I am it's not city. And this depresses me a little bit because, oh, the lights and the pace and the sights and the culture (yeah, sure, junkies in the park counts as culture, don't you think?). But I'd be overwhelmed down in the thick of it for more than a couple of weeks, honestly. I'd want some trees and a little space before too long.

The Unbearable Banishment, however, straddles the line between suburb and city, sometimes embracing his banishment and sometimes pining for his lost city (which isn't really lost, since he works there, but still). He's a Midwestern guy who moved to NYC and stayed for twenty years but got sucked into New Jersey suburbia and family life.

This is the dullest design ever. Oh, it's fairly innocuous. I'm not seeing any antifreeze green or anything. But it's such a downer. Seriously, folks, get with the program. This isn't 2004. Find a better template. We've got loads of links for you to find something better. UB, you take lovely pictures of the city and your family. Snag one of those and make it your banner. The design you've got now says, "Ask me about purchasing medical supplies," not, "I'm a cool, arty, urban dad with a sense of humor." I will say this, it's not cluttered. Although you'd be better served with tabs for an About page (create one, please) and your blogroll.

UB is a bookish city boy and the father of two girls about whom he writes sweet and funny posts. He reminds me of my brother if my brother were straight: neat, organized, intelligent, well-spoken, artistic, and politely irreverent (that sounds like an oxymoron, but it's not). He's into theater , theater, and more theater (Why do I feel like I need to be spelling it "theatre"? Because I'm all snooty-balooty, that's why.) and art and books.

There's amusing commentary on NYC/NJ life and funny references to Bond, which is aces in my book. Anyone who can quote Goldfinger is all right by me. But he's also remarkably down to earth and his writing is approachable and conversational. And he's a marauding cell phone jammer, a practice of which I wholeheartedly approve. He needs a fucking cape.

Most of the blog is light and funny and erudite and sort of carefree, but there are some posts that reveal what's going on in his life and his heart, and these are very fine, too. I'd like more of them.

The morning is moving on without me, and I've got to get this review posted. But what I really want to do is settle back into this blog and read some more. It's being added to my feed reader as we speak, although there's one minor problem: I want to know more. There's not a lot of talk about Mrs. Wife, which is either a little off-putting or terribly protective and sweet, I'm not sure which. And we get a lot of now, but not so much then. I'd like some more exposition, but then I always do. "Take it off, take it all off" seems to be my mantra. I get that not all blogs need to explore the sharp, rusty edges of our souls or sift through the decaying pages of our sordid pasts, but, come on. Just a little?

Come on baby, I didn't mean it. Don't leave me hanging.

This week, I've been met with an almost constant flow of inspiration and creativity surging through my being. There may possibly be an undercurrent of booze with that, but let's not discuss such things. Mostly, because then I'd have to admit I could have a problem. Oh and it's not polite in mixed company.

Back to that flow of inspiration. I'm finding that today I'm a tad drained. The creativity I've put forth this week has left me wrung out and feeling just a smidge like the dried up, musty sponge that is currently adorning my kitchen sink. Along with a few crumbs from the frozen pizza I devoured last night.

So here I am, feeling used up, tired and lacking in inspiration, when I've been given this to review. My first thought is, I wonder if she feels the same way, because she hasn't posted in a month. And, this is the second time I've had to review someone that has done that.

My sincerest wish is that she does not feel that way and that her hiatus is simply because she is uber busy taking gorgeous pictures while setting the world on fire with her wit and charm. Because, Death Chick? I kinda love you.

Sassy and smart, she kept me reading and reading and reading.

If I'm going to nitpick here, she can tend to be a little verbose with her posts sometimes tending to be on the long side of the law. (Ha, see what I did there? Ahem.) I actually don't mind, but you know, it's Short Attention Span Theater out there in the internets.

Her 'About Me', however, could be a little more verbose. It's short and to the point, which ain't a bad thing, I would just like more of a hook. How long have you been married? How many kids? Why are you writing? Why should we read? Is it the mortuary school? Her archives need to be rolled up, as they go back over two years. Otherwise, I think the template is a winnah!

What I'm saying here is, Death Chick, come back to me. You're funny and creative, the world needs more of that. Which is why I'm giving you four of these dudes:






Come back to me, I'm begging you, please. I won't be mean anymore.

Blogger, know thyself

I started blogging as a way to train myself to write every day. I'd long said I wanted to be a writer, and I thought creating a habit, flexing my writing muscles by blogging, would be a good way to start reaching that goal (almost four years later and I'm not limber enough yet). I thought I'd tell amusing stories, make a few people laugh, comment on the news and pop culture of the day, revive some bits of nostalgia, and just crack my knuckles and get down to the business of writing. What I didn't expect was the opportunity for self-exploration and connection blogging could provide. The more I blogged, the more I learned about myself. And the more I blogged, the more I learned about others, about how we're alike in our differences, about how people are usually more than you think.

What strikes me about today's reviewee is that he seems so self-aware. He knows who he is, what's important to him, what he likes and dislikes and dreams. I don't know how much self-knowledge blogging affords him, but whatever his motivation for blogging, whatever unexpected benefits he may gain from it, I'm glad he does.

Jacob at Jacob's Land of Bliss and Blisters says his blog is "... a little difficult to describe. I'm a scattered, random and eclectic person. So is my blog." And he's right.

He uses a standard blogger template, and though it's not horrible it's also not all that attractive or personal. I'd like a little more personality -- a photographic banner, perhaps. Though it is relatively uncluttered, the font is a bit small. Roll up your archives, Jacob, and consider tabs. Try to fix it so you've got no more than, say, six posts on a page.

Readers take note: he's got a great "about" page. This is what we want: just the basics, a little upfront information on who you are and what to expect. You don't have to shoot your wad there and give us everything, but give us a taste, just the tip. (Although, Jacob, consider linking to the blogs of those you list under "cast" right there in the text.)

Jacob is a frequent, long-term blogger with a backlog of EIGHT YEARS of posts, though only the last three have been consistent. Normally for a blog with that long a history, I'll go back to the first couple of posts just to see how it all started then stick with the current year. But I got sucked in and wanted to read the whole thing. I couldn't, though, not in the time I'd allotted myself to review.

I love a Georgia boy, and they love their football. But like Chris's blog (one Jacob and I both read), sometimes the football talk gets boring for me 'cause they're not talking about Florida State (except here -- Go Noles!). I can forgive him his low opinion of Florida. Barely.

But I just like his voice. Even when he's boring and fatalistic and misanthropic, he's entertaining and well-written and thoughtful. He's dry and smart and self-aware.

True, they're mostly loooong posts. He's got a lot to say and he usually says it very well. It's not that I think you should edit, Jacob, although you probably could prune a bit. It's that I'd like to see more variety in length. Acres of lengthy posts can be a little daunting for a reader. There's a tendency toward tangential and rambling writing, and though this is one of those cases where I think it works in your favor, it would work even better if you switched it up with some more brief, succinct posts thrown in (something it seems you've started doing more of in recent months).

They say you can tell a lot about a person by the company they keep, and I tend to think that's true. This is why a blogroll is, for me, as important as an about page. I wanna know who you are and who you like. In this case, I like who Jacob is, and I like who he likes.

Pos-itively a Stranger in a Strange Land

Week after miserable week, Miss Missives has trudged the dregs over here at Ask. I've grimaced through post after post: the mundane, the inane, the poorly penned. I'm not a mean person, I don't like giving out slews of flaming fingers. Well, that's not entirely true but what I really like about loitering these hallowed hallways is finding the odd gem. Oh the joys of discovering a writer that rather than labor through, you pore over each entry until you realize an hour has passed in a blink.

Now if Miss Missives didn't know for a fact that her husband, Mister Missives doesn't have the patience to blog and cannot keep secrets from her anyhow, she might have thought looking at Niagaran Pebbles, that she had found his super secret blog. Posol'stvo shares a lot in common with my mister and I thought I'd state that up front since I adore Mister Missives so it might bias me a little favorably in the Pos department.

Though his About Me is a little thin, a thorough reading of Niagaran Pebbles can tell you a lot about the man behind the Medved. For instance:

He is a language and grammar purist.
His wife breaks the ice for him and she likes to drink wine, a lot.
He is a shy crapper.
He is a graceful pragmatist.
He's conflicted about masturbation.
He doesn't enjoy constantly being sniffed
Like Miss Missives, he has seen David Sedaris read in person.
He is a boob man.
He is a closet romantic.
He has an eye for irony.
He has cross-dressed.
He might have been switched at birth.
He writes well, really well.

Here are just a few samples of really good writing:

In my youth and intemperance, I have said unkind words to innocent people out of anger. I have said angry words to innocent people out of ignorance. I have said ignorant words to innocent people out of unkindness.

I am reminded of the time when I found out that my best friend's father, who was always a very uptight and proper man named Jerome, was called Jerry at work. Jerry? Jerry is not a name for an uptight, proper, disciplinarian. Jerry is the guy who tells lewd jokes at the water cooler. Jerry's the guy you have to call a cab for at the Christmas party because he's too drunk to drive. If Jerome caught you looking at dirty magazines, he would probably whip out the belt, but if Jerry caught you, he'd help you find the good letters in the forum section.

Old age has stripped away the layers of shattered obsidian glass that made her such a prickly person to be around. She doesn't remember anyone, who she felt wronged by, anything. She is like a toddler again, filled with wonder and a little fear at not knowing where she is.

Like all of us, Pos could benefit from some serious editing. There are posts that are unnecessarily wordy that could be trimmed to highlight his best work. Still, he's not freakishly verbose and even the long posts were readable. Pos, you have clear voice which is pivotal in writing. You have beautiful phrasing, I even like your poetry.

My chief complaint about the writing is that some posts are better than others. There's the unnecessary, a little work blah here and there, and more than a handful of pedestrian rants. However, if my main complaint is that not every post grabbed me then Pos is way above the fold. Even the meh posts didn't cause my eyes to bleed or my soul to shrivel, it just made me want to skim until I hit the next great post. And who am I to say that the posts that left me wanting don't appeal to someone else because that's another great thing about you Pos, you cast a wide net.

As for the template, it's clean and unassuming. Your sidebar tends toward minimalism and I thank you, for not provoking a migraine with all manner of flashy, blinky, maptastic, statarific bric-a-brac and fauxwards. Pos, not only are you a talented writer, you are intelligent without being immodest. You are as humble as you are intellectual and you clearly don't take yourself too seriously. You are thoughtful and irreverent and you are definitely welcome around these parts, shibboleth indeed. Tell your wine guzzling wife to be careful or we might just steal her husband. There's a long line of girls around these parts just waiting for a smart, funny, introvert who can really write.