Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Boobs, and the Search for Catchy Headlines

The worst posts are the ones that talk about blogging (literally: see previous post for reference). I apologize in advance. I'm trying to attract readers. I've tried changing content, scribbling about gadgets and conferences that people are interested in with mixed results.

People's eyes only seem drawn to four things, in my estimation. The first being the content of writers they already know (friends and famous writers), the second being posts that personally talk about them. Third, people seem drawn to those few posts with catchy titles. I'll let you guess what the last thing is that people are likely to read.

I'm not so famous (cricket, cricket); okay, no one knows me. I can't link to every blog in the world either. So, this post is my ode to Dean Singleton. Boobs.

Let's see if that gets any attention on Technorati.

Literally Metaphorically Speaking

My life continues without a phone - it was blown up by the monsoon of last week. That little Razor was literally dropped from a three story building, run over by a truck, and soldered back together. None of that phased it. In the end, H20 was its downfall.

How embarrassing. That's the equivalent of Bad Pitt being taken down by the pansy arrow in Troy. Like that could really happen.

That man went through the Jen breakup, he can literally handle anything.

And that brings me to the title of this post. I've been pondering the relationship between my colloquialisms and my writing. I literally say, "literally" about four billion times a day (hyperbolizing). So much so, that I can't help the itch to type it into every nook and cranny of my journal entries and blogs (literally).

It's like crack, but less socially accepted (maybe literally, it depends if you're friends are like mine...).

How depressing. The real world is ruining my cyber-prose. For shame. Literally.