If I blogged anonymously.
If I were to blog the way I actually think, I think I would have to be an anonymous blogger. Granted, reading such mess might be a bit more entertaining since it would include more sarcasm and satire, which would in the end make my posts more humorous than they are IF they are already.
I would rant about crap grammar freaks would be all up in my business for – such as the commas before conjunctions being quite redundant. I learned such from Newspaper Productions, and I’m so glad I got into the habit. It saves space, newspapers have only a certain amount of space for articles, and teachers I have had to write essays for prefer it instead. I guess it’s more like journalism writing, but it has become a habit. And if you want to argue that my newspaper/journal/English teacher taught me wrong, she’s the head of an award winning student newspaper. Of course, I transferred out of that class to Literary Magazine because it was less stressful AND allowed me to have the possibility to gain enough credits to graduate my expected senior year1.
Then I might throw around facts about myself people find to be ill-mannered and/or grotesque. Like the fact that I used to have spitting competitions with myself to see how far I could spit. Gross, maybe, but I had a lot of saliva. What the hell was I supposed to do? Isaac, my fifteen year old brother, would also join from time to time, but I would always win. Unfortunately, sometimes when we were driving around on the John Deere Gator just for fun I might have accidentally hit him somewhere on the face (usually on the forehead or hair) because I’d spit forward since I was driving instead of to the side. I also might include that this wasn’t too long ago; I’m pretty sure it was just last year that I had this habit. Our mom made us bet [after taunting us that it was an impossible thing] who could go the longest without spitting (for me)/passing gas and talking dirty (for Isaac) in front of people, and I won, taking $20 as my prize at the end of the week. We didn’t have to bet money, just whether we really could control it if we wanted to, meaning she used the $20 prize as a bribe.
And I would probably end with the fact that my cousin Shane and I used to stand outside of Mimi’s front porch yelling, “WE’RE THE POOR PEOPLE, WE’RE THE TRASHY PEOPLE, WE’RE THE DON’T CARE PEOPLE, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” all the while banging wooden spoons on pots and pans really late at night. It was just for fun to us, but if you’re a parent and you want my advice on how to not have the possibility of that happening, it’s simple: KNOW what the people your kids are around are like and what they talk about and whatnot. Otherwise, it’s all gonna be fair game.
Even though I could more adequately end with the fact that I’m not ladylike. Sure, I like certain skirts and some dresses, but I typically don’t feel comfortable in such. Ever. I prefer short shirts, regular-sized shorts, sweats, certain capris, and jeans the most. I have manners, and I’m not intentionally going to be impolite without a fair reason.
I don’t really think those things would be funny, though. Other things would be funny, but they’re a bit more personal, and I would be more interested in blogging about them anonymously.
- I shall explain this later. My high school years were really complicated and unstable. ↩