Piss off spammers, I'm sick to death of you. So much now that you're not even making me feel great about myself with your endless sycophantic, toady little comments about how brilliant my blog is 'cos your brother said so.
Just go now. Just fortheloveofgodandallthatisreasonableinthisworld go.
Are you getting more spam than usual as well?
What is with those silly spammers?
Do people actually click on their stupid penis links?
And why, WHY do people buy stuff from telemarketers?
Inspired by the absolute joy of meeting over 100 fablicious bloggers on the weekend (and, you know me, I pretty much got around to say hi to every single one of them), I'm getting back to basics with the whole blogging thing.
Remember, back in the day, at least two years ago, when blog images were sepia-toned and we were little 'communities' rather than this gigantic city we've all found ourselves in? Yep, well. Back in the day, I used to click from blog roll to blog roll to find a new blog to love. It was such a fun way to spend an idle hour or two.
Then I stopped having an idle hour or two (or so I thought) and a lot of bloggers stopped having a blog roll (why!?) and so I stopped my little blog tours.
Until now.
'Cos I miss that fun bit of blogging, I really do. So I'm making the time each week to go on a little tour and this time I thought I'd share my journey with you. A Tour of the Blogisphere, meeting new blogs and showcasing what's out there.
Let's talk about car parks. I swear that if I don't start being nicer in general, when I die I'm being sent straight to an underground car park, most likely attached to a Westfield Shoppingcity. Oh my lord (sorry, Lord - see, I'm being nicer already), there couldn't be a nastier place to go.
Take this morning, for starters. It took about 20 minutes just to get through the boom gate because someone was blocking the entry waiting for a car space that may or may not have been opening up. I refrained from honking my horn to the tune of "why are we waaaaiting" (many didn't), but I couldn't figure out why this person felt the need to wait for so darn long just to park right there. We all know that the entrance to the car park is always at least a 55 minute walk from the actual shopping centre doors, so what was the urgency?
I soon found out. Even though it was only 9:35 am, the entry level of the car park was already bursting. Of course, driving just one ramp down to another level meant there were loads of spaces, but no one wants the horror of walking up a whole flight of stairs, so they create chaos on the entry level for everyone to wade through instead.
This morning we also had to manage the usual car driven by one of those Special People Who Don't Need to Follow the Rules Like Everyone Else parked pretty much in the middle of the road, streams of frustrated drivers carefully manouvering around it. Those Special People are just a little bit annoying, aren't they?
They're the ones who whizz by you in heavy traffic as they zoom along in their own lane which was previously referred to as the bicycle track. They're the ones who never indicate because the world can just get out of their way whichever way they decide to turn; who tailgate because that apparently makes the car in front go the speed they want it to go; and the very same ones who park in the No Parking zone right outside the school gate each afternoon, blocking everyone's view of the pesky pedestrian crossing.
They are also the ones who drive up a down road so they can zoom into a free parking space moments ahead of the car that had carefully driven along the arrows to get there.
"Excuse me," I called through my window. "I was supposed to get that spot, you went the wrong way down the road and pushed in."
"Everybody does that!" She scoffed. "Nobody else minds."
"Oh, I think they mind," I retorted. "They're just too shy to say something. I'm not shy at all."
"Doesn't bother me," she snapped. "I'm going shopping."
"Have you ever seen Fried Green Tomatoes?" I screeched after her.
The thing about cars and car parks and roads in general, is that unless you're prepared to ram them with your car (so very tempted), you're pretty much helpless against the rude, arrogant Special People of the world.
And nothing, nothing makes my blood boil hotter than that.
What makes your blood boilth overth?
♥
Are you going to the Kidspot workshop and party tomorrow? Of course I'll be there!
We're obsessed with constructing stuff from stuff around here. We wash and save all our recyclables and throw them into a giant basket and then make things when the urge strikes. Sometimes I'll give the kids (okay, the girls, Max does not participate, but I live in hope) a word to start them off ("insect", "car", "giant", "plant", etc), but usually they just get on with it.
Lately they are particularly keen on constructing elaborate houses out of shoe boxes. I should share some of them here. Last week Cappers made a room for a bear and she scalloped the edges of the shelves. My kind of girl.
These sweet neon binoculars made out of yoghurt containers would fit an "explore" brief perfectly. The pop of neon is like a little scalloped edge on a shelf.
There's me, my 3 Tsunamis (Maxi-Taxi 8, Cappers 7, The Badoo (twenty)4) and my everlovin' man. I'm rather opinionated, but I like to be kind. I work as the Editor at Kidspot's Village Voices and other freelancey lancing writing jobs. I don't get to blog as much as I used to. There's a little bit more about me here.
maxabella@gmail.com
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It's my great pleasure to write for Village Voices on Kidspot. Here's what I've been talking about lately...
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