Yes, yours. It's boring, it's whiny, you don't update enough, and the color scheme is all wrong.
But it's ok. You probably hate mine, too.
I mean, there are reasons why I haven't been blogging as often as I could be or used to. And they're all Initial's fault. That jerkwad.
A) I don't think he knows about the blog, and I'd like to keep it that way. But it wouldn't be that hard for him to find it. We play around online (watching videos on youtube, you sickos), and there's a whole folder in my bookmarks for comments, stats, posting, HTML tricks, and technorati.
B) If he does find out about the blog, which wouldn't totally be out of the question, I want to make sure that it won't spark our first fight. I don't want to write anything too mean about his geeky friends or music snobbery or the fact that he smells like his cat more often than socially acceptable to have him read it and get mad at me.
C) We spent most of our time together at his place, mostly because he has a better kitchen, and he enjoys cooking. At my place, breakfast consists of cereal or a bagel, maybe with a can of soda. This morning at his place, we had fresh ground coffee, a Western Omelet with hand-chopped ingredients, and homemade hash browns. And while he was doing all that cooking, I was playing around his computer in the other room. He doesn't have a tv, so all I do is read the New York Times and other other online newspapers, since I don't want him to check his internet history and find blogger.
D) Blogging about boyfriends is boring. It's either lovey-dovey or written like a bad romance novel with Fabio on the cover. Or rather, a limp-wristed Fabio on the cover. Or it's like us, where we spent last night watching The Critic on DVD.
But you know what? My stats have been up 20% in the past two weeks, so maybe there's something to this lazy blogging thing. In fact, just forget I wrote this entire post.
But seriously, try and step it up in your own blog. It has been sucking lately.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.