Last night as I sat, arms crossed, in my armchair I realised to my horror that my little sister had the TV remote. Unfortunately this means that I was subjected for an hour to America's Next Top Model. It would seem that about 10 Miss World drop outs have been extracted from the already rather unchlorinated gene pool that is America and have been unceremoniously plonked onto my TV screen!
To be honest, these models were better looking than Kate Moss, who in my opinion looks like an Amazonian Rainforest Frog out of David Attenborough's Life in Cold Blood. However, this set me off thinking. How can a group of people as intellectually stumped as those in front of me, have the potential to earn millions of dollars? You see, I keep getting drummed into me; "Oh yes Russell, A is a very good grade, get yourself to university boy and you could earn 30k a year!" yet these utterly talentless beings with the minds of six year olds manage to earn much more than that!
Moving swiftly on from this rant, what I'd really love to talk to you about in my first blog, is blogging! For over a year now I've been pondering whether or not to come to a blogging site and spew my social prejudice across your screen like some sickening concotion of intellectual snobbery and general hate for various groups and individuals. Do not get me wrong! I am not a neo-nazi extremist who seeks to impose my views upon you, I am merely a social reject who has nothing better to do! However, after wasting a year of my social life deciding whether or not to really take myself a step lower on the ladder and quit trying to be "cool" and instead concentrate on impressing an invisible audience I have decided the latter. Here I am.
The thing with blogging is, after just glancing at the home page of blog.co.uk, it would be apparant, that most of the people who seemed to have their blogs featured there are really, really... sad?
I mean, if I wanted to know about your lover who you are cheating with behind your back I'd watch Jeremy Kyle. If I wanted to hear about another long and, surprise suprise, boring day in the office, I'd talk to my dad and IF for some strange reason I do want to read your abstract "philosophical" ideas about how your dreams mean you will be dead by 2032 then I'll just pop along to my local gypsy camp (of which there is one, annoyingly, about a 50 second drive from my front door!).
Anyway, almost 2 and a half thousand words later, I feel, lighter, mentally of course, theres no shifting those spare tyres by typing. Yes, I think I will return to bore you a bit more next week, and perhaps reply to your comments protesting that dream reading is in fact a valid science.