There's the old-new age mantra, if you don't like it, don't read it. Which was real big on dooce; the first time I stumbled onto the site the latest post was a routine exposure of all the gutless hatemail she receives, passages from letters hung out to dry so that the internet public could shake their heads and throw tomatoes. The writing felt biting and sardonic which was a sharp contrast to the colorful but pc design blogs I was principally reading. which I suppose was interesting to me at the time because this wasn't just a grown up lady's words, this was a mom. Even though I have cousins her age, she just seemed like a real adult. And though the hatemail was as if written by a very angry and disapproving nine year old, her own writing was bitter and deadpan (albeit in a cool way), it made me wonder who exactly was the crazy one. But she seemed so cool, with her cropped pixie cut and sharp chin, as vicious as her words. I could totally see her as one of those women that I so would love to be friends with but probably not in person, but eager to please and ready to agree with her every word.
i began to predict the familiar structure of the posts, the hyperboles and metaphors with unexpected comparisons became expected and calculable. With each excited capitalization and exclamation point it was as if a friend was clutching anxiously at your arm before the big reveal and then...nothing. Blurry punchlines and underwhelming revelations.
It seemed inevitable. Once you become a mom, and as long as you don't want child protection services being called on you, your humor inevitably becomes vanilla (not that there's anything wrong with it). Even the "dude I'm still edgy and like radiohead and write a metaphor about a toilet involving an oozing pimple" is oh so momish.
And then the ads. The giant banners stretched across the top of the page, blocks of eyesores that competed with the photos themselves. Sure they're trying to make a living out of this blog, but it began to seem like a corporate attempt at family friendly with lines here and there about poop, sex, and lack of hygiene as if to say "hey hey, I'm still the same." But you're not.
Once you're making a living off the blog, running ads on it, doesn't the whole read or leave thing I'll write what I want to write and do what i want to do I don't care what you think thank you very much become (kind of) null? Like selling your soul to the devil or reality tv.
It seemed inevitable. Once you become a mom, and as long as you don't want child protection services being called on you, your humor inevitably becomes vanilla (not that there's anything wrong with it). Even the "dude I'm still edgy and like radiohead and write a metaphor about a toilet involving an oozing pimple" is oh so momish.
And then the ads. The giant banners stretched across the top of the page, blocks of eyesores that competed with the photos themselves. Sure they're trying to make a living out of this blog, but it began to seem like a corporate attempt at family friendly with lines here and there about poop, sex, and lack of hygiene as if to say "hey hey, I'm still the same." But you're not.
Once you're making a living off the blog, running ads on it, doesn't the whole read or leave thing I'll write what I want to write and do what i want to do I don't care what you think thank you very much become (kind of) null? Like selling your soul to the devil or reality tv.
Don't take this as a sayanora though. I'll surely be stalking/checking out what's up just as often. Like The Office, it may be more mellow these days with most attempts at humor obviously trying too hard, I just gotta know what happens next.
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