Another Addiction Bites the Dust

...and that's probably a good thing...

It's a sad thing to admit, but my love affair with the "Next Blog" button on my computer screen has come to a rather abrupt end and there is little hope that it will ever be restored.

I used to... well, not really "love" it per se, but I certainly always found it pretty interesting to peruse total strangers' blogs (from an *ahem* purely sociological perspective, of course!) Even dull blogs could be kind of fascinating by virtue of their very lack of zest if you know what I mean (who and why would anyone write about this??) and I loved them all! Kid pictures: Why not? Details of a church picnic: Fabulous, especially the pie descriptions! Chapter 63 of some guy's novel: I'd read it! Corny poetry? The more maudlin the better! The right-wing, fundamentalist Christian blogs sort of got on my nerves a bit, and I usually skipped over them for the sake of my mental health, but other than those ones it was pretty rare for me to really dislike a blog, or judge a blogger harshly. Except for maybe this one time, when I read a blog set up to coordinate a twenty year high school reunion. Yeah, I confess, I read a big chunk of it, and yeah, I found it interesting in a sort of horrifying, I-think-I'm-going-to-throw-up kind of way. (It has, uh, been twenty years this June since I graduated from high school myself, OK? 'nuff said.) Anyway. This is going to sound harsh, but let me tell you: I've read blogs about dog grooming shows, harebrained get-rich-quick schemes and the quest for the perfect burger. I've ploughed my way through a penis reconstruction surgery blog (complete with pictures!) I've even read blogs ostensibly written by Che Guevara and a long-haired cat named Frisky; but believe me, never, NEVER did I stumble upon a blog more pathetic than that one.

My addiction to the "Next Blog" button was mostly an evening thing, although I always had to shut it down when it got really late. After midnight all I'd get was Very Large Tits blogs. These always horrified me, because, damn it, if I'm going to hunt for porn, I'll do it the old fashioned way, thank you very much: I'll look for it under some teenage boy's mattress.

But all that has now come to an end, thanks to the efforts of one totally sadistic bastard of a blog that sent me here last week. WAIT!! Don't y'all go pressing that button until you're properly aware of what you're getting into! Going to this site is NOT for the faint of heart! Without giving too much away, it involves some pretty scary visual images that I don't want you to see unless you're properly prepared. UNLIKE I WAS.

Picture the scene: A cold, rainy, lonely night, and Mr. IQ is out with the lads having a few ales. I am alone in the house with the kids, fiddling around with the computer, idly pressing my favourite "Next Blog" button. The room is dark except for the glow from the computer screen. I click innocently on a link that says something innocuous like "fun site!" or "groovy game!" It starts. The pictures start flashing and the music slashes into my brain. I scream, and soil my pants. I run from the room and spend the night curled up on the couch with a large carving knife clutched in my hot and sweaty hand. Scared? Oh my friends, you have no idea. I was freaking TERRIFIED.

OK, so now that you know what you're in for, you can go. Make sure the volume of your computer is turned up! Have fun! Are you wearing your Depends?

(Doo dee doo, waiting for your return, it won't be long I know!)

Are you back? How long did you last? I made it about 13 seconds into the thing. Remember, I was alone in the house and it was late at night. Can you just IMAGINE how terrified I was?? It was awful.

And so, just like that, Pavlovian style, thus endeth my love affair with the "Next Blog" button.

I'm a little sad about this, naturally. It was through this button that I found The Constant Whiner and DoctorMama, two of my most favouritest blogs ever. All not in vain, I guess. I told Mr. IQ all about it, and after fiddling around for a bit on the same site he found this for High Intensity. She spent at least twenty fabulous minutes playing with it which meant I got at least twenty fabulous minutes alone... dealing with... the other kid. Oh yay.

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I haven't been blogging much lately. I'll show you the picture of why tomorrow. (I would post it now but Mr. IQ isn't here and I still don't know how to get pictures up by myself.) (Yes, I suck.)