I Wish This Fucking Day Would End

This isn't his first time guest reviewing here at Ask. Ghost of Keywork, lovingly referred to as Gok around these parts, probably finished having any firsts about the time he was fifteen. According to his mom he's a whore, but whores of a feather flock together and somehow he crossed starry paths with our favorite hooker and they'll be heading down the aisle pretty soon to make it official. Sure he's gone private, but if you want to get a load of the goods, you might want to ask nice and bring lots of lube. - Miss Missives

Hello, I believe we all know who I am. I won't lie, this review is rather short and to the point. I don't know anyone like today's blogger, and after reading his blog, I'm glad. Really, it is that bad. Before I dig into my next victim, go here and have a laugh. Because there is absolutely no humor to be found anywhere at A Day In The Life. Monday's post was the closest that you came to making me contemplate laughter. Seriously, dude, you've been going at this since 2003. Obviously, blogging is not your thing, stick to graphic design. I have friends that work in your field, and they are, for the most part, funny. Entertaining even. I wish they would blog. Sadly, they don't, and you do. Thanks. Ok, let us get to your journal. Tell you what, let me show the good people why you should never post again.


Exhibit A: Enthralling!


Exhibit B: Captivating!


Exhibit C: Oh, Fuck, I Can't Fake It Anymore.


Look, I'd love to know what you did yesterday, but you can't be bothered to give me any fucking details. So, fuck you. No, really, fuck you. Your template is pathetic. So is mine, but my writing more than makes up for it. The only thing your writing does is make everyone feel better about their writing. Again, you have been getting away with this spineless shit for a few years now. Stop. If you want to put your spin on the news, then fucking put your spin on it. I don't want to waste any more time than I already have, so I'm going to lay it down right now:

If I were on fire, burning to death, and you had more than enough water(I'm likening your blog to life-giving water) to extinguish me, I would pay you to take your water(blog) and go fuck yourself. I would rather die in an entertaining fashion than run the risk of living after being exposed to your boring fucking water(blog). Seriously.

Oh, get rid of the ads, shorten up your blog roll, fix your goddamned archives, and hire someone else to write for you. Here are two things that I will now address, from your blog:

This. Yeah, God really has it in for you. Look, a funny raccoon post. What? My blog is being reviewed by a dead raccoon? Fuck. Yeah, you didn't do yourself any favors by posting that lolcoon. The post was fine without it.

And this. What, I didn't link anything? That's right, I didn't. On your blog, you have a link that I can click on to donate money for 'all the work you do around here'(referring to your blog, I assume). This was the icing on your boring cake of a blog.

Please, cut off all your fingers and stay away from the internet. Can we make that a new rating?

We Ain't Comin' Out

Hello, assholes. Yes, you. It's me, Key.

Today we (and by we, I mean you and I, dear reader) are going to take a trip back in time. It's going to be a shitty one, because I don't remember years very well.

Once upon a time, there was a man. His name was David Koresh. And he stockpiled weapons and sex targets. Yes, I know, I think I may be a direct descendant. Well, he did all of this in Waco, Texas. One day, the ATF decided they were going to fuck with him. Didn't go so well. So, they came back and turned his compound into a large bong. But, they smoked Davidians instead of reefer. The end.

Why, GoK, must we relive this tragedy? Because the blog being reviewed today is from my home state, Texas. Waco? No, Permian/Odessa/Oil Country. Much like the Branch Davidians, I feel like this blog is trying to take my guns and underaged sex partners.

Before I get into this, I do have one thing to get out of the way. Rob and Dede, the authors, are good, good people. Why? Well, they adopted a boy from Russia. And if you know anything about me, you know that I was adopted. So, on a human level, I probably love you, Rob and Dede. Sadly, your blog will cause me to go off to a small university on the east coast and only call you guys when I need money for pot. And condoms. Hey, I'm pretending, I can act like I'll use them. But really, you two, good on ya, there's nothing harder than raising someone else's child. I wish you nothing but the best. Now, on to the ugliness.

If I have one piece of advice for you, my little Dolphins, it is this: you have way too many fucking entries per page. And it fucks up your entire blog. I wanted to move in and have you cook for me, but your entire blog suffers from this one issue. Your archiving is all jacked, please use months (feb, apr, etc..) as opposed to the binary code you have up now. But really, all of your layout issues can be forgiven if you just cut it down to like seven entries per page. Also, I hate dolphins, so you guys were fucked from the start.

The content, well, it's there. I read as much as I could. Look, you're both into information, and your blog shows it. It's just too much for me. I felt like a few bong rips would make your blog a cult classic. My parents would love your blog. There's recipes, strange footwear, and some really in-depth 'did you know' type stuff.

Oh, and there's a ton of shit about dolphins. I'm not linking it, no fucking way. If you need to know about dolphins, read this blog from front to back, you will know more than you ever should know about everyone's favorite tuna additive.

Look, I read a lot of your posts and I honestly feel like I don't know you two any better. I would like to see something real, but I can't find it. I feel like you are both hiding a lot. That's your call, it's your blog.

Congratulations on your beetle, I once sold VW's and had a blast doing it. Side note: I'm green with Irish envy that you have been to the Motherland, very green. I guess I'm confused though. What posesssed you to submit to AAYSR? Look, I understand southern mentality, be polite, gracious at all times, don't upset anyone. I once believed this was a great thing. I know better now.

Rob, Dede, get your crayons back. I think you both are capable of hilarious hijinx. Dirty it up a bit. Do something to grab the reader's attention. But seriously, enough with the fucking dolphins. If you plan on keeping the dolphins, please hire a writer to throw something entertaining up once in a while. Something humorous. Or, better yet, do it YOURSELF.

Y'all get a big fucking

No, wait, I forgot this post. This post, I hated.

Rob/Dede, let me ask you a question: I noticed that you both have cars. Where were these two cars built? Well, I know the Bug was more than likely manufactured in Mexico. By workers that don't take hybrids to work. Know anything about Clean Air Law in Mexico? Let's just say that these aren't the most eco-friendly factories known to man. Getting that Bug into the states burned up some fuel too, didn't it?

Yes, the price of gas is a bitch. Do something about it: stop driving. Or buy a steam locomotive.

Otherwise, get in line with the rest of us assholes. Yes, if you aren't driving an eight cylinder beast, you are going to come off as a dirty commie treehugging hippy. Because some dirty commie treehugging hippy convinced you that you can save the environment by driving an econobox. Good luck with that.

You're a consumer, just like everyone else on this planet, doing your part to destroy the planet. Admit it. If you won't be manipulated by survival of the fittest, I supposed you would be immune to being manipulated by the 'go green' campaign. Which will probably be much more devastating in the long run than all the lies those big horrible tobacco companies told us.

So, I give you this:



Sorry, LB, I just wanted to make sure the flaming fingers, yes four of them, were given an explanation. It was cool until you guys went all Mother Earth on my uber-cynical ass.