It's been brought to my attention by others (at least 3 of you, probably the only 3 who read this crap) that my life is blogging. I'm apparently nothing more than a bot who should be fulfilled simply by churning out web content. This means of course that I'm not supposed to love, be loved, or feel loved. Not to corner it on one emotion (love), I'm apparently not allowed any emotion (positive or negative) at all. Further, I'm also expected to refrain from being social,or even socially frustrated for that matter, and regardless of how sad I feel, my outlet should not be an actual person, but (you guessed it) the blog. Why would I ever want to talk about anything other than movies? Hell, my life needs no expression or vent--I got movies AND a blog. I kinda think that reasoning (finding happiness in my blog) to be a load of steaming crap, but obviously the people I respect (maybe not so much anymore) think otherwise.
Sometimes I just want to talk, like really talk, to someone who really wants to listen, and really cares. But asking for that is apparently impossible--it's simply never gonna happen. There are simple truths in life: Leann Rimes aint eating a Big Mac--ever, the Seaver's won't reunite to make a Growing Pains reunion movie, and Snooki will always love pickles and Juicehead-Gorillas.
And as for me and my simple truth in life?--I will probably never get to really talk and have someone really listen. Oh well. I got a blog.........bitches!
So, I'll blog... and blog some more...and sling noodles at The OG in between...'cause much like reading Tori Spelling's memoir, this is fun... AND fulfilling (sarcasm very much intended).
Emma take it away...