BLAH de FRICKIN' BLAH, right?
And some of my earlier readers have seen me take a Time Out before. So it's like BLAH de FRICKIN' BLAH TAKE TWO. And HERE SHE GOES AGAIN (LIKE A DRIFTER, I WAS BORN TO WALK ALOOOONNEE!).
Yeah. I know.
It's just that I've set this impossible precedence for humor, and it's hard to be funny all the time. Hell, this blog is evidence that it's nearly impossible for me to be funny even most of the time. So maybe I'll include some more serious posts now and again. Don't be surprised when you see 'em.
OH, and even more than my issues with sarcasm, is the fact that I am HELLA pissed at Google and their ad network...Adsense is it? Let me walk you through a brief synopsis. Remember my very recent post that announced "I've" remodeled? [<--Editor's note: had to type that word five times before I caved and spellchecked it. *sigh*]
WELL, Google ads took offense to my indirect non-request to CLICK THEIR FUCKING ADS. And I say that now, with liberty, because they've SUSPENDED my account. And THIS after me going back and editing the shit out of my post like an angsty, repressed Mazzy-Star-listening emo kid.
I. Had. Been. Censored. Evidence:
I did this after receiving an official email from the Google Suits (You think Google Bots wear suits or Birkenstocks?) telling me I'd BROKEN the RULES. And, considering that they still have my $67--money I, ahem, WORKED hard for--I thought it would be smart to play fair. But about a week later, I got another email:
YOU GUYS. I MEAN, RIGHT?! I'd sold myself out in whorish fashion for a measly $67, and then when I reached over to grab it off the nightstand, Google's all, SYYYYKKKEEEEE!
I'm kinda sad about this, you guys.
Maybe my abandonment of this blog was my subconscious attempt to stick it (my foot) to the man (his anal cavity). But instead, I've just got a bunch of public service ads about microfuckingfinance, and what the hell does that even mean anyway?
And you. You, my sweet, dear readers, the innocent bystanders neglected in the corner sucking on your blankets while Mom & Dad toss tables in the other room. Can I even begin to apologize? How about send money for therapy? I've got a year's salary from blog writing saved up. It's about $67. Send all requests to Google.