Last week I kept getting emails from the Blogher Ad network telling me I needed to check a box to agree to the new lower rates so I emailed them back:
I’m thinking I may take a break from Blogher ads for a bit. I’m going to say that I’m going to look into private ads but then not actually do anything about it because I’m lazy but I’ll keep talking about how I’m definitely going to do it and then several months later I’ll realize that I’m way too irresponsible to try to get private advertisers and I’ll want to come back to Blogher ads but then when I go to click on the box accepting the lower rates it will be gone and instead will be replaced with a message that says “Screw you, loser! That’s what you get for not checking the box back when we told you to!” Then I’ll be sad and quit blogging for a few months to backpack around Europe. And by “backpack around Europe” I mean “start doing crack”. Because I can’t afford Europe but I heard crack is quite cheap. Of course, I *would* be able to afford Europe if I got private ads which I’m sure I will get whenever I actually start working on that. Next week…or maybe the week after. Hey, are you guys interested in running private ads on my blog advertising Blogher ads to other people? Like maybe a flashing banner that says “If you don’t run blogher ads your vagina will fall out.” I charge $500,000 a year. Maybe less. $100,000? Eight dollars? I should really figure this sort of thing out before I send out any more proposals.
And then like 3 seconds later I got a personal email back saying that they still loved me and that I could take the ads down whenever I wanted. Which is totally fucking classy. And enabling. But not the good kind of enabling that pushes you to change, like when the chick from Saved By the Bell got hooked on speed and Zack made her quit. More like the bad, easy kind of enabling like when your dad is an alcoholic but you keep buying him booze because he’s funnier drunk and also because you know if he sobered up he’d remember how much money you owe him even though most of the money went for gin anyway so he should just fucking lighten up and stop yelling at me to clean my room because I DON’T EVEN LIVE THERE ANYMORE. Honestly dude, that’s the fucking kitchen. Get your shit together.
In completely unrelated news, I was a finalist for two Weblog Awards for about six hours until I was forced to resign from one. True story. I’m still in the running for “Best Humor Blog” but not for “Best Very Large Blog” which doesn’t actually sound like a real award anyway. Apparently there’s a rule against being a finalist in more than one category but I guess the guys running the award didn’t realize that I was there twice because they were spelling my name wrong (the blogess) in one category so I publically resigned and so they explained why I quit on their site but then they kept referring to me “the blogress” over and over, which I think is implying I’m half blogger, half ogress. It’s pretty much the most insulting prestigious award I’ve ever been asked to resign from.
Comment of the day: Well if your vagina fell out, it wouldn’t be so bad would it?? You could carry your purse in the erm…. ‘void’ and you could wear your vagina as a hat. You know, like the hats that have those big droopy ear flaps. ~ Dave