I naturally assumed that since I don't really write about my dating habits, trash-talk other bloggers or at any time compare my life to an episode of Sex and the City, I would probably fly under the radar of whoever was running this thing. So imagine my surprise when I checked my Technorati the other day to find out that the mysterious overlord of this site had "nominated" me for "Best DC Blog by Best DC Writer." I'll admit, even knowing that the criteria for such an award seemed to be 1) be on the DCBlogs roll and 2) be subjected to name-calling in the comments section less than the other "nominees," I was rather charmed. Someone out there reads this stuff? And likes this stuff? And cares that my dad is healthy and my cat is safe? How adorable! It's like knowing people actually read my family's Christmas newsletter and don't roll their eyes and throw up!
Further proving my maxim that the things designed to improve our lives inevitably complicate them more, I started regularly checking the comments, waiting for the inevitable shit-talking to begin. I made it through a whole day or so ducking the mud being slung about. And I really have to ask something of the Internet here: where do you people buy your energy supplements? Do they carry your pills at GNC or do you have to get them through a doctor? Because whatever you're on, I'd like some of it. If the passion shown in your commenting exists in pill form, I could have enough energy to knock down the Great Wall of China with my bare hands and then rebuild it with Popsicle sticks and Elmer's glue. Which has totally been a goal of mine since childhood
Eventually I was presented with with such well-reasoned, thought-provoking criticisms of my writing as "Dump EJ," "Dump EJ" and "Dump EJ and his life" and my pathetic attempts at expressing myself fell victim to the smarter, wittier souls who troll this fair Internet of ours. I was unceremoniously sacked from the competition this afternoon and have spent every moment since then heaving with sobs. Why, God? Why put me into this world, give me a brain to process thought and hands to type, only to limit my gifts and make me fall so far short of everyone else? Where is thy decency, you cruel shaper of fate?!
As I attempt to collect myself, I can only hope that I'll can draw strength from addressing a few of the constructive criticisms so helpfully suggested by some commenters. Behold:
Drop EJ Takes Life no one cares about EJ or the the life he took And suicide is bad.
No argument at all there, friend. Suicide is a terrible, terrible thing. Nowhere in almost two years of writing this blog have I ever advocated taking one's own life. I'm saving that for Year 3, of course. However, when you suggest that "no one cares about EJ," are you not devaluing my OWN life? Isn't "no one cares" really the same thing as "the world wouldn't miss you and you should really just pack it in?" Aren't you trying to encourage ME to perform the very same act that you have just labeled "bad?" Perhaps you should practice what you preach. And start using punctuation.
EJ is a sophomoric sadist and I’d appreciate her removal from the list. She’s must to young to play with the big boys. Cut her!
Too young? You rock! Thank you so much! Here I have been all worried that I was getting prematurely old by buying a condo and deleting that guy I hooked up with last fall from my cell phone so I'd have room for my mortgage broker and spending the night before my birthday drinking martinis at the Kennedy Center instead of playing flipcup in a glorified frathouse basement. And then you came along to calm my fears! You are so sweet!
I do take slight issue with the labeling me as a "sadist." It's been simply months since I drove spikes into someone's flesh for pleasure, and so that term is somewhat dated. These days, I'm into plushies.
Do it. Dump EJ and his life from the list.
This one hurts. Of course I'm a terrible writer and a terrible human being and completely stupid and a waste of time, but I'm not a dude. I'm a girl. Woman. Female. She.
These are men:
This is me:
I realize that there is a tremendous resemblance between me and the above individuals, particularly Coolio, but I am a girl... woman... whatever noun female-gendered people my age are supposed to use. Yes, I understand that because I socked away fourteen Guinnesses in four hours on Saturday and am currently second in my March Madness bracket of 24 entries, the male gender might want to claim me as one of their own. But alas, biology has spoken and declared me to be a chick. Sorry.
Lose EJ. I could never support someone who names their blog after a Muppet film.
This is so tragic, it's practically Shakespearean. Someone FINALLY gets the title of my blog and yet simultaneously rejects me for it! Yes, EJ Takes Life is in part named after one of my very favorite movies ever, the brilliant Muppets Take Manhattan. I didn't name it EJ Takes DC because I started it right after my backpacking trip (which naturally begat EJ Takes Europe) and frankly, I didn't see myself sticking around here that long. But the best film of the best troupe of singing, dancing puppets ever to put on a Broadway show AND put pigs in space? Did you not watch the Muppets, friend? Did you not have an American childhood? Have you no sense of wonder, or appreciation for cameos by B-list mid-80s celebrities?!
In the end, as I attempt to scrape up what is left of my dignity, hope and dreams, I can take comfort in the message below:
Bloggers... is bloggers.