Monday, 21 December 2009

Male Bloggers are Useless Arsechimps

Before I begin, let me exonerate Mr. Christopher Allen, Mr. Derek Osborne and Mr. Mike Stevens. I like these people, despite their constant moaning about varicose veins and acne pimples. I also recommend their delicious blogs and ask that thee comments on their wisdom.

Now. To the matter in hand. I like blogging and bloggers and the image of unsexed unwashed anti-cool we saddle on our shoulders like a shawl made from spices, herbs and nectar.

However, while writing a detailed scientific study of male blogging habits, I have come to this conclusion: male bloggers are emotional cripples in love with their own voices who want mommies to pamper their talcum bums and tell them that thing they wrote about Gordon Brown being a goat, was GENIUS.

I say: no thanks, mates. I dislike the male blogger and until I can enter into a dialogue with one of these apes, I will keep this disgust in my heart like a salamander slithering into its cot and quaffing mucho fishies.

In other news…

I have seasonal writer’s block. I can’t sit still to get the next chapter of my WiP completed. I have seasonal ants in my seasonal pants. Yesterday, I finished reading Nicola Barker’s Small Holdings: a bizarre novella about interpersonal conflicts in a garden centre, then ate a premature Xmas feast (roast potatoes, sausages wrapped in bacon, chicken and vegetable delishes).

I also rediscovered the blissless torture of Tetris: mathematical brain erasure. Must slot blocks into more blocks and get blocks into more blocks. Must get high score and beat Japanese nutters who spend weeks on there and get to level 1,000,282 then die
of indigestion. My best attempt:

This has been the worst blog post since blogs were invented. While we’re venting, though – I also hate e-cards, hairbrushes, inertia and Volvo S40s. These displease me with extra baubles.

Tomorrow I might write something half decent about Vashti Bunyan. She cometh.

Goodnight, beautiful.

5 comments:

  1. There is a DNA glitch in most males, leading to a Logic Error.
    (Well, it may not be an actual glitch, it might be left over from the days when we had to head butt goats to win the blade of grass on a snowy mountain. I'll check with Desmond Morris).
    Put simply, it leads males to believe sincerely that anything to do with them is WONDERFUL.
    Hence they can entertain(?) for hours recalling that day they puked 62 times and still went back for another pint.
    Hence they can state "Bad goat" and expect everyone to fawn at their wit and wisom.
    Hence they can have a moody silence and believe it makes them attractive.
    Sadly, many females have the matching DNA glitch, such that they believe those men. (Desmond says that's because they need the blade of grass that male just regurgitated).

    ReplyDelete
  2. Worst blog or not, I am chuckling merrily. I happen to LOVE your self-depricating angst, and in 9 years when you are half my age plus seven we can talk about that bottom talcing thing.

    As for writer's block... if chapter 2 is the problem, skip to 3 or go back and do a prologue (maybe you started too far into the story) Or... barring that... plot a blog opera *shifty*

    ReplyDelete
  3. Wow, that's my first exoneration (with a hyperlink!) of the day.

    I have writer's block too! It's like we're having our period together, isn't it? Say yes. Come on, say yes.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Mike: My title was somewhat misleading. Arsechimps (or bonobos) are smarter than some humans. They can do complex maths puzzles, make lunch, and hump our womenfolk whenever we're away. So maybe "arsegoats" would be more apropos.

    Tami: I'm talcing up in advance. I think the block will be gone today. I don't have to go outside again until Thursday. Mucho writing (or Tetris) time.

    Chris: You're rude. Careful, or I'll withdraw that hyperlink.

    ReplyDelete