The Lineup
B.I.R. Column Of Fame
Man of Steel... Wood... and Mud: Bear Grylls
Rock Legend: Tom Morello

League Gods: The Emperor and Alfie

Str-8 Shoota: Malcolm X

Str-8 Shoota: Zack de la Rocha

Super Bad mofo's

Comrade Hillary

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Damn your eyes 

I don't get it.

At bloggingitreal we provide indepth coverage of domestic and international politics, sport, media, law and order, climate change and more - sharing our unique perspectives on the issues of the day.

Yet unless Bobert pisses off anonymous Cubans down Miami-ways with his hard-hittin' truths on the revolution, there's usually sweet fuck all in terms of a public response via our comments thread.

And that's fine, we're not in it for the fame, we prefer to roll underground, for as long as our posts of the day are on the lips of the learned man and woman in New Zealand, on the forefront of the minds' of decision makers, and more importantly with the people on da street we'll continue blogging.

But could someone out there, anyone, explain to me how a post like this gets 57 responses:

In that last blog I talked about cheerfully sending a text that now makes me cringe. And it will make me cringe every time I think about it for a while.
So I am going to have to try to not think about it.We all have these moments. We all have moments that when we think of them make us just writhe with embarrassment ....

Stay with me here, it gets worse:

I was about 7 and I really liked a boy in my class called Murray Hovard. He was the best looking boy in the class (I was very deep when I was 7) and he was really popular.
Anyway, one day (this is at Devonport Primary School) during little play, it had been raining and I was running, and I ran past Murray Hovard and wouldn’t you know it! Right in front of him I hit a slime patch on the asphalt and fell over!!! Now this is really REALLY uncool when you are 7....I was mortified, and as I went down and hit the ground I went into damage control (Lord knows what possessed me to do this, honestly) and I turned the fall into a forward roll.
Lovely Murray must have thought he was experiencing a sugar rush - who the hell would just do a forward roll in the rain, on wet ground, all by themselves, out of the blue?

Honetsly, I don't know who would Bridget. But neither do I know how an organization can possibly justify paying someone money to write this shit.

But there's more:

I picked myself up, brushed myself down and sauntered off, head held high, CRINGING inside.
You're not the only one.

Another one was, as an adult, being all fabulously frocked up ‘n cool’n groovy and woteva and going into a certain ice cream parlour and wanting a chocolate ripple ice cream. The ice cream shop was full, and I stood out because of how I was dressed, which made it all the more painful when I couldn’t say the word “RIPPLE”. I have had a stutter all my life. It comes and goes, is worse and better at diffferent times, but it is always there, lurking, waiting to booby trap me and make me look like a fool. So I tried to say “ripple’ but all that would come out was ‘rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr’ !
And the young girl behind the counter said, loudly, and dryly: “Ripple?”
I just wanted the ground to swallow me I felt sooooooooo stupid!
Would someone please just shoot me in the face.


No comment.
All commenting initiatives are in hiatus until the first Warriors post

"The ice cream shop was full, and I stood out because of how I was dressed"

Like a whore, possibly?
No no no these other responses are shit. I know the answer, I'm best qualified to comment and my point of view will surely hold sway if I can just get it past the moderators - I will be HEARD above the cacopohony of other people's opinions and contributions because it validates me and establishes my status in this rather odd community: Fucking useless vapid ignorant representatives of the great washed and partially educated, whose inability to perceive, and who couldn't care less for, the greater scheme of things will deliver to them the just desserts of humanity's 'progress', ought to be prevented from accessing moronic media deliberately designed to dumb them down, but can't be because they are free and to trample their freedoms for the sake of their enlightenment is precisely what they'd do, damn it!

Pet hate of mine.

The Great Unwashed dipping their toes into the world of Interweb commenting when they can barely string some keystrokes together.

Another pet hate is the country's leading blog having a sports section written by a guy who knows fuck all about cricket, but that's another story.
Yeah, but the poor bastard has to write about the Super VVIV. Cheetahs, Hurricanes, Highlanders middle of fucking February blah blah blah.

Same shit, different year.
Why does the poor bastard have to write about that?

Surely the point of a blog is that you can be independent of the self-serving ($$$) factors that drive the MSM?
I think we can blame a poor recruiting policy there.

I'd also like to add at this point that I top scored for my social cricket side tonight (first game since 1993) with 66 runs off 30 odd deliveries.

Just as well it was 8 a side and catching optional aye.
Are any of you guys planning to be anywhere near the Basin 3-7 April?

I fully intend to spend at least 1, possibly 2, days indulging in crickety goodness. The club season will be over by then leaving ample time for the bank, booze, and appreciation of a good cover drive.
I'm working in Canada until late April, so will miss it by a few weeks. ;-(
LB: I'll be the one angrily waving my match-pass at the rainclouds while huddled under a newspaper.

DC_red: kia kaha cuz, I'll tape it for you, should be some awesome replays of old matches to reminisce over through the rain breaks.
Shit! And well done Yamis! That's great at any level, and it's never too late to seek higher honours...
Thankyou Chuck, you're on my beer list. I am accepting plaudits from any direction. Especially after being called a bum and gay by my students today (they were ejected along with one earlier leaving me to think I'd make a good basketball ref).

I won't be in Wellington for several years by the look of my bank account. I will obviously have to leave Auckland though if I ever want to see a fucking cricket test.

I'll meet you in Wellington eventually LB. We can sit behind the sightscreen with our laptops blogging on the wireless.
Fuck I'd like to eject some of my students on occasion. Especially those girls of questionable morals at the back of the class who constantly chatter to each other while texting on their fucking phones.

In your best referee's voice: "That's it ... you're ooutttaaaheeerreee!" (pointing to door).

Would be embarrassing when you run into them working at the local strip club a week later though, perhaps?
Those girls at the back of the class sound interesting dc..

Yam; am up your way in May, will keep you posted.

As for the test cricket, don’t forget you’ve always got the glamorous option of the Tron.
Make it a weekend this time round!!! I don't do weeknights in the teenage mindcontrol profession.

Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

The New
Blogging it Real supports the following sporting organisations