I began writing this blog during the lazy, blissful school holidays on the 8th January this year. Whoa… that’s only three months ago. So far I’ve managed to write 104 posts, which is about one post for every one of those days. Now whilst I am fully aware that I am by no means an experienced blogger, I do believe a few prickly issues have reared their ugly head, on which I do feel to be a bit of an authority.
Therefore, here are some sage words of advice on the dangers of blogging for anyone who continues to read on and ignores their gut feeling that this post is just more of Pinky’s pointless drivel.
Blogging makes you put on weight.
Three kilograms! Crap! This is from sitting on my a#se typing out posts, instead of power walking for an hour and a half every day as I did back in the days when I was thin!
Blogging makes your house filthy.
Some people joke that their house is messy, but clean. My house is very neat, but filthy! The washing piles up now, the floor is sticky and the carpet upstairs has something growing on it.
Blogging makes you absent minded.
I lined up behind five cars at the busy service station today. It was finally my turn at the bowser and I got out of the car only to realise that the petrol tank was on the other side. I’d been thinking about what I could write in my post this evening. Yesterday I forgot to pick Lulu up from work because I was… err... vacuuming. No I wasn’t! I was writing my post! Bad mother!
Blogging gives you nightmares.
I keep having vivid, recurring nightmares about poo dribbling out of my mouth. I’m not joking!
Blogging makes you put on weight.
Three kilograms! Crap! This is from sitting on my a#se typing out posts, instead of power walking for an hour and a half every day as I did back in the days when I was thin!
Blogging makes your house filthy.
Some people joke that their house is messy, but clean. My house is very neat, but filthy! The washing piles up now, the floor is sticky and the carpet upstairs has something growing on it.
Blogging makes you absent minded.
I lined up behind five cars at the busy service station today. It was finally my turn at the bowser and I got out of the car only to realise that the petrol tank was on the other side. I’d been thinking about what I could write in my post this evening. Yesterday I forgot to pick Lulu up from work because I was… err... vacuuming. No I wasn’t! I was writing my post! Bad mother!
Blogging gives you nightmares.
I keep having vivid, recurring nightmares about poo dribbling out of my mouth. I’m not joking!
What do you think it means?
Blogging alienates your friends.
My friends’ eyes glaze over and they quickly change the subject whenever I start talking obsessively about my blog. I’m sure they only like it on Facebook so they don’t get asked every morning,
“So Kaz… did you read my blog last night? Did you like it? What exactly did you like about it? Did you laugh out loud? Huh? huh?”
Also I have begun to talk like a Thesaurus.
“Whadja say Pinky??” they will query in bemused perplexity when I orate in an exceedingly evocative and ostentatiously pretentious manner. Like I just did then…
Blogging leads to addictive behaviours.
To have your blog read by more than your five best friends, your husband and the dog, you have to promote it on Twitter, Facebook and any other form of social media you come across. Bad. Bad. Bad. More distraction from housework and exercise.
Blogging makes your husband cranky.
“So do you think it’s funny?” I’ll ask him prior to posting.
“I laughed didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you might just be humouring me. Do you think it was at all offensive?” I’ll whine persistently.
“No… it was funny.”
“Okay… if you’re sure… so I’m about hit publish… Should I do it? Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Yes Pinky, publish it.” he sighs patiently.
“There… it’s published! What if no one thinks it’s funny…maybe I should have used another picture. I don't think I should have posted it...”
Blogging alienates your friends.
My friends’ eyes glaze over and they quickly change the subject whenever I start talking obsessively about my blog. I’m sure they only like it on Facebook so they don’t get asked every morning,
“So Kaz… did you read my blog last night? Did you like it? What exactly did you like about it? Did you laugh out loud? Huh? huh?”
Also I have begun to talk like a Thesaurus.
“Whadja say Pinky??” they will query in bemused perplexity when I orate in an exceedingly evocative and ostentatiously pretentious manner. Like I just did then…
Blogging leads to addictive behaviours.
To have your blog read by more than your five best friends, your husband and the dog, you have to promote it on Twitter, Facebook and any other form of social media you come across. Bad. Bad. Bad. More distraction from housework and exercise.
Blogging makes your husband cranky.
“So do you think it’s funny?” I’ll ask him prior to posting.
“I laughed didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you might just be humouring me. Do you think it was at all offensive?” I’ll whine persistently.
“No… it was funny.”
“Okay… if you’re sure… so I’m about hit publish… Should I do it? Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Yes Pinky, publish it.” he sighs patiently.
“There… it’s published! What if no one thinks it’s funny…maybe I should have used another picture. I don't think I should have posted it...”
I will continue carrying on plaintively for the next twenty minutes until someone finally ‘likes’ it.
Actually, he is pretty patient ... except for the time when in the middle of connubial fun times I breathed heavily into his ear,
"Scotto...are you sure it was funny?"
