....my blog. A little part of me died inside as I typed that word. "Blog". I am contributing to the death of the printed word. Doing my tiny part to slowly and methodically kill the possiblity for future generations to actually pick up a newspaper or magazine. I'm serious, every little bit of technology that we become obsessed with, that becomes part of the public vernacular - "I just Facebooked you" or "Did you Tweet about it?" - causes one more fat, pimple-faced twenty-something to spend an extra hour in his room, face all a glow from the light emanating from his monitor, simultaneously killing hordes of goblins on World of Warcraft with one hand, while the other (without guilt) touches himself as 'justturned18hottie' tells him that she's wet via chat room.
Jesus, that was one of the worst run-on sentences I ever wrote. Oh well, that is what you will get by reading this blog - a lot of piss and vinegar, a shit load of random thoughts, and probably more honesty than you or I are comfortable with. I will promise you three things:
1.) Whatever comes into my head - it will be thrust into cyberspace (do we even call it that anymore?) minus any concern for your feelings, viewpoints, or values. If you don't like what I write, don't read it. I will not take it personally.
2.) The frequency of my posts will directly result from both the mood I am in at any given point in time, and my level of intoxication. Come on, anyone who ever had anything to say was fucked up on something. Hemingway was a rampant drunk. Thompson had more acid in his system than the alien from H.R. Gieger's nightmares. Hell, even Shakespeare needed an opiate of some sort to put pen to paper. While I am in no way shape or form putting myself on the level of those artists, and chances are nothing EVER on this blog will have an effect on anyone's life other than mine, I like to daydream that I have a talent that the rest of the world just hasn't been exposed to yet. Sue me, I am a self-centered prick. Although, contrary to the popular phrase, my shit does in fact, stink. My diet is poor.
3.) I'm gonna talk about anything. From whatever happened to me personally that day, to what's happening in the sport's world, to movies, to the fact that I will never understand the appeal of Kate Hudson, personalized licensed plates, or couples who sit on the same side of a booth in restaurants. In fact, those three things make me want to stick some sort of sharp object in my ear, to make death come swiftly.
Hey, you were the one dumb enough to log on to this. Don't blame me. I'm just the.....fuck....blogger.
And P.S. - thanks BFF, for giving me a push.