Mr. Cool

24 Oct

DISCLAIMER: I’m pretty sure this post has PMS written all over it, so please feel free to skip it unless you enjoy hearing me bitch about people i don’t know.

So the other day I was reading a blog that, get this, was complaining about their popularity. It seems this particular blog had so many readers that the blogger was overwhelmed by the pressure to write and just really felt like complaining on the blog about his or her popularity.

Are you fucking kidding me? Too popular? And you’re complaining about it? How many bloggers out there it would just kill for thousands upon thousands of readers to visit our blog everyday? And you’re complaining about it ?

Next they’ll be complaining about how big their houses are or how much money is coming out of their asshole when they take a shit.

Do those people not understand what lowly bloggers like me would give to be able to share their stories, their jokes, their honesty with more people on the Interwebs? And I don’t mean for money or fame. Just to spread the fun and inappropriateness.

Of course, that would probably mean I would need to blog more than once every two months…

Anyway in response to the “oh no, I’m too popular, listen to me complain. Wah wah.” blog, fucking get over it already and enjoy your popularity before it’s gone.

Song title: Mr. Cool by Kevin Ayers

3 Responses to “Mr. Cool”

  1. Lin October 24, 2011 at 6:51 am #

    Love this! Very well put & it’s true, they really should just shut the hell up about being ‘too popular’.

  2. Rachael October 24, 2011 at 10:47 pm #

    Yes. Totally.

  3. intrepid librarian October 25, 2011 at 12:06 pm #

    That is, in web-parlance, a humblebrag. Check it out on twitter:!/Humblebrag.

    Also, another twitterer I follow (who introduced me to humblebrags) made the observation that if you put “weird” in a brag, it automatically turns the brag into a humblebrag. Some examples:

    My Rolls Royce came with no driver. Weird.
    My million dollars came in $20s. Weird.
    My new iphone 4S came without instructions. Weird.
    Brad Pitt is in my bedroom. Weird.

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