A Narcissist's View of the Internet...and Brett Micheals.

Me, in 1969.

(I'm on the right. Must have been thinking... what the hell do I write next? And... I got to poop.)

See? Even I'm not safe from myself. Okay, so I get home from work today and I'm wondering... what the hell do I write about? My hopes and dreams? What, am I a girl? Please... you see what I look like. I am capable of smiling, but usually at someone else's expense. Usually. So that's a big fat no. So out of curiosity, I perused some other blogs...

I found a few that I really liked. Became a follower instantly. But for the most part it was like this:

( A kid after my own heart... awwww... must be Gordon Ramsey's son.)

1. Baby's room, ready to go! - Great. Another booger machine who will end up with the name of the day, usually something that gets them lifelong beatings or time on the brass pole. Don't care. Next.

(The only thing you get when you do E-business.)

2. How to make money on the internet.... my mind turned to white noise at this point. I get enough of that useless pyramid shit everywhere else. Think I'm going to take the time to read it here? On purpose? Next.

(He doesn't know I farted... wait... wait... any second now...)

3. Something with compelling images. And words written in something akin to hieroglyphics. Need a translator. Next.

(I told the wife to go with the one piece, but noooo...)

4. The family/couple trip. Glad you had a good time. I know I did, because I wasn't there with YOU! Shame no one except other mountain biking ice fishermen will give a shit. Next.

(Oh God, please kill me so I don't have to be paparrazi'd on this FUCKING blog anymore...)

5. Cutsie pet pages... the ones that document in infinite detail the pet's daily life and adventures. Oh boy, I can not WAIT to read about Ms. Persian Princess' game of chase the dust bunny and how cute she is when she covers a turd in her litter box... just give me a pair of pencils to stick in my eyes.

That's a rough shot - don't get me wrong. I'm sure there are people who think I suck, too.

Somewhere.

And in Entertainment News...

No girls, really. It's shrinkage... like when you come out a pool. Seriously. I'm a monster.

Brett Micheals of the former hair band Poison (he wore more makeup than some of the girls he uh... courts... yeah, courts... on his show - and was prettier) injured himself at the end of a performance on the Tony awards last night. Apparently he got smacked by a piece of the set during his exit. Guess he was looking over his shouulder for one of the girls he used and tossed, huh?

My hero. Not.

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Being an asshole... priceless.