So here is my thinking on blogging: Entertain me. Tell me funny stuff. Make me laugh or educate me on something I don't know about. Let me read actual writing that amuses and informs. I don't want to hear whining, or bullshit or about a that dog pooped in your yard, a bird that flew by or some random poetic, flowery sounding prose. You want to have a diary? Fine. Get out your emotions, your thoughts, your feelings, your dreams for the future or a 500 word page essay on how beautiful your kid is. Write all that shit down, and lock it up so no one else has to read it.
My thoughts on this stem from the fact that I myself have a VERY hard time blogging. I've tried my hand on myspace. Most of the time I come up with zip unless something particularly amusing has happened that day or I made a funny I felt compelled to share. I can't share with you what's in my head, my heart, my soul. I just can't do it. I share a lot. But that stuff is hard for me. And how is it meaningful if everybody and their perverted, ass-scratching Uncle Fred is reading about it on the www?
I'm not gonna blog in the traditional sense. My new Pretend Boyfriend Fitzy (www.townienews.com) is my hero. (Actually that's not even his real name...or person...but whatever- it makes him a better Pretend Boyfriend) He doesn't get in front of his camera to do a webcast and bitch about his mortgage payment or tell us how much he loves his wife. He gets up there and makes us pee ourselves with laughter. Yes, he loves the Red Sox almost as much as me... so I'm a little partial to him, but seriously? It is so friggin refreshing to look forward to someone who makes all your problems go away for 5 minutes and doesn't expect you to take their crap in return.
So this is the blog that's not. It will be silly stories about a 30 ish Mommy who trys to be classy and starts the night with martinis and perfect make-up...and ends up being the drunk chick singing into something and doing Jager bombs. (*Sigh* Dammit! Why does that always happen?) About the girl who loves baseball and her crazy 4 children and all the stupid stuff they do. I will not blog on my parenting methods, (I only have one of those and it's this- Don't Let Anybody Die) but I'll tell you how my son calls his penis his "peanut". I won't write sonnets about how beautiful my children are, but they are. I have no doubt there will a drunk story or two (or ten...thousand) but I promise no drunk love letters to anyone.....Except the Sox.
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