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Of Horses and Hell vs. Please make rice. I love you!

Evil Minx: Oh good lord. Two girly blogs? My hormones are affronted. It's a lucky thing they aren't either of them pink or I might well be projectile vomiting about now.

Of Horses and Hell
Captain Platypus: Of Horse and Hell, despite it's title and pretty templates, is a bitch blog (Put the stones down ladies. I didn't invent the name, they did.). So with this blog archetype, here's what to expect of the blog and it's author: I am female, I am opinionated, and I sprinkle the words "bitch" and "fuck" over my posts like an Olive Garden waitress grating cheese over their inedible salad. These types of blogs rival mommy blogs for over saturation within the blogverse. It's hard to tell one from the other. Okay ladies, I get it. You are modern women. You aren't defined by your man or family. You have strong opinions about everything and aren't afraid to speak your mind. You use language that would make a sailor wince. I've seen it before, will probably see it again tomorrow, and it's starting to bore me. I've seen so many blogs of this fashion I am beginning to wonder if these online personas are real, or are they just the online Hyde to their straight-laced, real world, mini-van driving Jeckyl?

Just from the title I expected to find quite a few posts regarding horse husbandry (I was already disappointed by the lack of rice over at Lauren's place). Under the horse-alicious category, there are only seven posts. Seven! Two of them were about a petition to ban the slaughter of wild horses back in February. I'd figure a horse lover would keep up with an issue like that, maybe post updates and such. I wonder what happened to all those wild horses . . . There were more horses over at Please make rice (but still no rice, I'm not letting that go).

Coming soon to a Law & Order spinoff near you: Mr Ed takes the witness stand in State of Nevada v. Biologisvensk. A horse psychologist approaches holding a My Little Pony doll. "Can you please point to where she touched you?" the psychologist asks. Fighting back tears he extends a shaky hoof, pointing to the groin of the doll. The gallery gasps. The prosecution rests. The jury returns a verdict in five minutes. Guilty.

One of the more entertaining things on her blog was the application to date posts. Sadly there hasn't been an update of these since Maj, whenever the hell that was. I'd make a comment about being in America and speaking English, but that could be perceived as a hostile infringement of her ability to be a liberated, modern gal who plays by her own rules.

All in all, there was nothing glaringly bad about Of Horse and Hell, but there wasn't much glaringly original that I wouldn't find on any of the other blogs in this webring. I say again, the message has been received loud and clear. Modern women. Outspoken. Opinionated. Gotcha.

Evil Minx: On the one hand, i quite like her irreverent attitude. But it reaches a point where it stops being cute and starts getting on my tits big time. (And they're big tits too.)

Each of Biologisvensk's posts only display the first 4 or 5 lines. After that there's a link hyperlink entitled "did you really think i was finished". SHUT UP woman. That's HUGELY annoying. If you have to posts endlessly long posts AND have as many posts as you can cram onto one page, be more subtle and refined about redirecting us to the yawningly long remainder. Please? Seriously. Please.

Overall, the effect is that of a wannabe bitch... which just misses its mark. Especially with daft looking horses at the top of your blog. Biologisvensk, you are trying too hard.

Malfouka: Biologisvensk, the author, is a "crazy twenty-something girl currently living in Las Vegas." Whoa, hold it right there: I don't know about you, but when someone refers to herself as "crazy" I immediately think, "Crazy, no. Big doofus, yes." Calling yourself crazy is a sure indication that you own a t-shirt that reads, "Normal is boring" and spend way too much time at the mall giggling loudly with all your zany friends. Calling yourself crazy is like advertising your inherent tedium. And don't give me the old jokes about medication--no self-respecting insane person would ever breezily use the term "crazy." However, self-proclaimed wackiness aside, I do think one would have to be a little off to live in Las Vegas. Now, being a gambler, drinker, and smoker, I love Las Vegas but would I ever live there? No, no, no! It's not a place to live. It's a place to visit--then you go home and lick your wounds.

So what would bring a "crazy twenty-something girl" to Las Vegas? The obvious answer doesn't work here (take that, Ockham!). No, Bio did not relocate to the overheated crotch of Nevada to pursue a career in the flourishing Las Vegas entertainment industry (read: prostitute, showgirl, stripper). She did not go west to seek her fortune as a blackjack dealer or a waitress. Bio moved to Las Vegas to become a criminologist--which considering the sheer amount of vice and unlawful goings-on, makes a little sense--though I suspect Bio just couldn't cut it as a stripper and in a moment of cheesy television crime-show induced hysteria, decided criminology had a nice ring to it.

Dave: Bio, if Britney Spears signs up for any of your classes, say 'hi' for me. Unlike Malfouka, I'm going to applaud your choice of criminology in the vein of all those CSI television shows. It's a lot of pressure to wrap up two murders in just under an hour, but I'm sure you'll pull through fine while Grissom shouts "Faster, damn it, faster" from across the crime lab.

Malfouka: This site looks like it was designed by a teenage boy. What with all the underdressed and sexualized young women come-hithering off the pages, it's hard to believe that this is the blog of a female college student. I don't know what Bio is trying to accomplish with the questionably sexy women and the constant references to thongs but my best guess is that she is going to rush some fraternity in the near future and wants to score points with her prospective frat brothers. Actually, I think she's probably just a female chauvinist pig—you know, the type of woman who rationalizes that since it's too much work to beat the guys, she might as well join them. This theory is further strengthened by Bio's repeated use of the word "bitch" to describe herself. In a post titled "Rare Rant (April 04, 2005)," Bio refers to herself as a "bitch" no less than four times. I hate women who do that; are they too stupid to realize that "bitch" is not a good thing to be called? And I don't know about the world in general, but the suggestively clothed woman in the CSI uniform makes me question Bio's educational competence and doesn't inspire in me a great deal of confidence in her abilities as a criminologist. In fact, if the CSI thing doesn't work out, I think Bio has a real future as the owner of a pornographic website. Furthermore, if you're going to go with the whole "CSI" theme, why the heck would you continue to call your blog "Of Horses and Hell?" Yes, Bio says in her "about me" section that she has worked with horses for most of her life, but fer christ's sake, if you didn't go and read every single goddamn post on this blog and find the seven entries that actually deal with any sort of equine hell, you'd be understandably confused.

The general "look" of the blog is okay--CSI woman not withstanding. I do, however dislike blogs that have near endless lists of other blogs. Am I really supposed to believe that she reads all of these? No, the roll-call is a type of blogverse back-slapping. A device to show how "connected" and popular the blogger is. Call me cynical, but when I see these warehouse blog lists, I immediately suspect that the blog owner is very unpopular in real life. Compensation perhaps? I also don't like blogs with multiple "skins". What is the purpose of that? I know it's the new trendy way of doing things, but if you have decent and interesting things to say, it really doesn't matter how many bells and whistles your blog has--and if your content sucks, three different skins are not going to save you. Which brings me to...

Content. The content of OHaH is not terribly absorbing. Bio talks about school. Bio talks about her various cats and dogs. Bio talks about her breasts. Any of these topics could conceivably be interesting if only Bio weren't so damn boring. Take for instance her post "Hand-Job Whore (11.07.05)." This had the makings of a great story: horse penises, human-to-horse masturbation, the "unintended" presence of children during said equine masturbation. Yet, Bio manages to screw it up! The post ends so flatly that even the most hard-core zoophiliac wouldn't be able to maintain interest. And it isn't funny. Bio, herself, perhaps has the explanation for her underwhelming writing ability. She says: "I've had to spend my blogging energies writing term papers for what I love to term B.S. courses: classes that I don't need for my degree but I need to take so that I have a 'well-rounded education' (Burned Out, 03.01.05)." It has been my experience that those who narrow their spectrum of knowledge are the most mundane and uninspiring people on Earth. Instead of complaining about all those "B.S. classes," Bio really needs to enroll in more—perhaps then she'd have something a bit livelier to say.

Bio's "rants" are as flaccid as the previously mentioned zoophiliac. Her curses are awkward and unnatural as if she is trying really hard to be cool. There are those who know how to cuss and those who sound like third-graders.

Bio further makes the grievous error of frequently referring to menstruation and PMS. Why, Bio, why? PMS and menstruation are not funny unless you are a 13-year-old boy. Periods are not cute--no matter how many revolting cartoon ova one posts. No one wants to know when you--or your friends--are having your period. We all know that cramps are shitty. Additionally, I for one am tired of stupid women who believe that PMS is a license to act like a whiny ass.

All in all, the most interesting and funny things in this blog are the posts about Bio's grandmother. Now that's a lady who should be blogging.

Please make rice. I love you!
Minx: What kind of a candy ass pathetic title is that? The explanation doesn't excuse you. Not in the slightest. Vomit-worthy in the extreme. *Shakes head sorrowfully*

I'm generally not a fan of photoblogs. That's just my personal preference. The photos were good, some of them quite stunning, actually, but photos on a blog really aren't my cup of tea. So mega un-kudos for that. However, 6 various versions of how the morning looked at 5.30 am, which is too damn fucking early anyway, no matter what the excuse, is just too many!

Dave: She lies. There's no such thing as 5:30 am.

Minx: Posting about wearing thermal underwear? Oh please. What has the blog world come to? I mean, underwear as a subject on a blog is in no way taboo, but thermal underwear is one of those things that I think most people just accept as a fact of life and see no reason to glorify in literature.

I did like the interesting blog layout with the "About me," "Blogs I Like" and so on as drop-down lists. That pleased my minxy sensibilities. LingLing will probably hate that, mind you, so you might want to duck to avoid the shrapnel.

Dave: Ling's great and all, but she might be the last person I'd go to for design advice. She's a part of that "cram it all in there" school of blog architecture. ...Blog. Architecture. Blogitecture. Someone go trademark that quick.

Malfouka: The look of PMRILY is understated--which I appreciate. I can't express how much I dislike overwrought blogs. The sheer busyness of endless boxes and columns and rows and blinky stuff, makes my chest swell with hatred. Thus, viewing PMRILY is like taking a Xanax. Unfortunately, reading PMRILY is like taking an overdose of Xanax.

The content is an endless narrative that started in September 2002. Strangely, Lauren has managed to stay exactly the same for the last 3 years. Substitute one boyfriend's name for the other, and you'd never know any time has passed. It's frightening really--like Lauren is stuck in some sort of time loop or something. Even her twice-monthly illnesses are consistent. It reminds me of a certain book (rumoured to exist) that can be started on any page you choose and read through the end and back to where you originally started without losing continuity and meaning.

PMRILY does not inspire any emotions in me. I felt no rage, no anger, no hatred. I hold no like or dislike for the blog and its author. I never laughed. I never cried. I never once had the urge to beat anyone up. I read through 3 years of someone's life and not once did I bend beneath the weight of profundity. I can’t even manage to stir up enough emotion to be ruthlessly insulting (though arguably it is quite insulting to learn that you have failed to incite any passion whatsoever). Truthfully, it's a bit discomfiting.

Captain Platypus: I have little patience for photo blogs, mostly because they are maintained by photographers. Photographers, no matter what their skill level, think they are artists, and calling a photographer an artist is like calling a NASCAR driver an athlete. Sure, they may share some of the same characteristics, but 90% of the work is done by a machine. When immersed in the artist facade, the photographer starts to believe that everything they photograph is art. Spending six months turning a chunk of marble into a statue is art; posting experimental photos of your feet or of the timer going off too early when setting up a shot is vanity. An artist should know the difference.

I don't dispute that she can take a good picture, but so do the fine folks in the Sears Portrait Studio. I've seen photographers there get four toddlers to smile and look slightly to the left using a feather duster. It may not be art, but it's good photography.

Photoblogs tend to follow the same pattern: Picture + witty title = post. Lauren occasionally forgoes this pattern and gives some backstory to the photos. I was relieved to see a small amount of writing on her blog, although she does use the word 'chillax' more than I would recommend.

I found the unstaged photographs to be pleasant, but the staged ones tried too hard to be artsy. The head in the hands shots, the distant expressions, the introspective deep thought poses, these photos practically scream out "I'm an artist because I take photos of individuals who look conflicted. Angst is art." Angst is the essence of every fragrance sold by Calvin Klein, its artistic charm appeals only to those who think artsy and art are synonymous. It's the equivalent of buying WalMart brand potato chips thinking they will be just as good as a bag of Lays because it says "Quality" on the label. And speaking of Lays, you should eBay that chip.

Because of my initial feelings towards photo blogs and photographers, I expected to hate PMRILY. Surprisingly, I did not. I probably won't be buying a trucker hat from the online store anytime soon, but I didn't hate it.

Another close one. PMRILY's off-beat combination of photos and regular posts gives her the slight edge. And so, on this the 14th day of November, 2005, Of Horses and Hell is banned for a period that shall not exceed two months. The Holy Order of Thunderdome has seen fit to offer her an opportunity to both lessen her sentence and improve her equine masturbation stories by the following Trial of the Damned: actually, it's the same as last time (we gotta come up with some new ones)--make yourself useful and post in the pit of despair that is the Misfitopia for a month. If we find you to be a good contributor, your ban shall be cut in half (Defiant and Corp from Curbed Enthusiasm did it, and passed handsomely). Bring them thongs too. Anyway: graphics for the winner and loser.

Medals of Dubious Honor:
Most unpronounceable name: Biologisvensk. You may as well throw an umlaut in there too.

Most semantically baffling name: "Please make rice. I love you!" We're all still scratching our noggins on that one.

Best Quote by a Grandmother: OHaH. "Ranger (dog), he has the prettiest penis I have ever seen. Look at how it is spotted black and white (He has the Prettiest Penis, 01.15.05)."

Worst poetry by a boyfriend: PMRILY.

The Holy Order of Thunderdome hath spoken.

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