Wednesday, 7 May 2014

I saw you wrote about me on your blog

It happened. Someone said it. The dreaded "I saw you wrote about me on your blog". Pretty much one of the worst sentences I've ever heard. Well, that's a total lie, I've heard far worse things. An example being: "Those shoes are disgusting". Ouch. But that's not the point. Anyway, I knew exactly which post this person was referring to and if I wasn't sitting upright in a car with my seat-belt on (safety first, kids) I would've slowly slid off my seat and into the hole I had apparently dug for myself. Instead, and in a rather appropriately dramatic manner, I swiftly turned my head to look out the window (that's how they do it in films) and muttered "yeah, we don't talk about that". While I considered using the app on my phone to erase all traces of myself and this blog from the web, he changed the subject. Thank God. I really didn't have the 3G to spare.

Because essentially, what I write here in my strangely blue corner of the internet is basically, how can I put this? Word vomit. Ah, another Mean Girls reference. But seriously, I sort of forget who reads what I post. I figured I'd be fine sharing my life with total strangers and anyone nosy enough to click a link on Facebook, but then it dawned on me that real life people do read it. You there, you're real! Congrats! Just count yourself lucky you're not doing one of those weird warpy 'prove you're human, and not a vacuum' literacy/numeracy/I-don't-get-the-point-of-these-I'm-literally-just-buying-concert-tickets tests. No-one ever gets those things right first time; screw you internet, not only do I have GCSE's, I also have A Levels - who are you to judge me?

I like to make fun of myself, hence the content of every single one of my posts, but a blog is like a diary, isn't it? You know everyone's read it, but you have a mutual understanding that they don't tell you they've read it and neither of you try to start a conversation about it. Well, that's how it happened with myself and my sister. God knows why I kept a diary for so long - or why I kept it hidden in the same place. I was clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed.

But not only do I not have control over who's reading this stuff and laughing with me (not 'at', she says hopefully), I technically do not own what I write here. Well, I mean, that's what I'm assuming. I never read the terms and conditions. I'm guessing this means that the guy who owns 'blogger' now technically owns all current 460 words of this post. Blogger is essentially owned by Google and who owns Google? I'm not actually sure. Ok, I did a Google search (how ironic), and according to '', Google is owned by Bill Shor. Call me presumptuous, but I'm thinking this website is a viable source to use. So, Bill, if that even is your real name (still might not be, I only checked that one website and it was dated 2009), what do you think of my writing? Will it be sold unknowingly to me and used in adverts and other media extensions across the world? Hmm? HMMM!? I know how your sort work, I've watched a documentary! On purpose! By choice! Yeah, exactly. Not only that, but I can quote Legally Blonde backwards, so I could totally take on your multi-billion dollar company. Someone bring me a smart suit, an american flag and a tiny chihuahua, stat!

Obviously, I'm not actually going to go back and read the T&C's I've completely glossed over, but I think it's good to be aware of what may or may not become an eventuality. In the meantime, what I think I'm saying is that maybe I need to think a little more before I post on here. Which doesn't really make sense because I've just written about the person I was supposed to not be writing about. Again. (It's been a long day). I have a feeling this won't work out for long because if I don't write about the embarrassing/bad things that've happened to me, how can I a) help you guys out or b) cheer you up because at the end of the day, at least you're not me. Plus, the rest of my life is horrendously uneventful and I've used the same make up brands for years and I've absolutely no money to be a fashion blogger.

I guess I'll just have to keep slating the people who teach me the greatest life lessons. Shame.

~ Eleanor xo