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Life, My Take vs. The Adventures of Zube Girl

Yeah, okay, so we have a guest judge today by the name of Adam from We're all glad here. I'm gonna let him vote despite the crappy title of his site.

Life, My Take
Malfouka: I know I'm not the only one who reads the title of this blog as: Take My Life. And I also know I speak for multitudes when I say, "Yes, please someone, take her life. Put this woman not only out of her misery but everyone else's." Seriously, LMT makes old Smith's songs sound like bubblegum pop-rock. Angie's (Nytewind) droning complaints are so pervasive and boring that the only empathy I can dredge up is for the members of her household—who by this time are no doubt earnestly considering spiking her morning coffee with Prozac. I don't think I've ever read so much whining, complaining and pessimism outside of a Russian novel.

Life, My Take has an okay look about it though I truly hate the pastel roses. After reading through nearly a year of Angie's posts, I've got to say that the tagline, "One thing you can't recycle is wasted time," is (unintentionally) funny. It's a shame I didn't take this warning a little more seriously (though I should have known better after spending 20 seconds pondering the weather in Gillespie, IL, and determining that this information was about as useful as a quadriplegic juggler). There is one thing, however, that I must credit her for--especially taking into consideration Angie's sole identity as a wife and mother (as evidenced in her epigrammatic "About Me" section): there is a total lack of blinking boxes. Thank you. I think if there was even one "Proud Mommy" or "I (heart) my husband" I would have had to make the trip to Gillespie, IL, to smash Angie's computer with an oversized Acme mallet.

The most disturbing and infuriating aspect of this blog, though, has to be the unremitting insistence on the blog's inferiority. Almost every other entry mentions the horrific quality of the blog and the author's lack of writing ability. I have to wonder why she keeps doing it. If you know and admit what you are doing is pure crap, then why do it? Angie says, "I don't have a talent for writing. And my life is a bore. I am not interesting... (Wednesday, August 03, 2005)". She further states, "...I could sit here and beg you to go here and defend my lame blog. But Nah. I am who I am, and that's a "Shitty Blogger" with lame posts, and nothing new to offer the internet... (I have entered the arena, Friday, December 23, 2005)." Introspection is a good thing. Listen to that inner voice. Please.

Adam: Have you ever wondered how the terrorists use websites to hide their insidious plots in plain sight for everybody to see but only a few to understand? If I had to guess I would say they probably set up some bland ass blog and fill it with cryptic posts like this: "Update on our mutual friend please," (Edith, Nov. 23, 2005).

What the hell? Couldn't you just email that question to whoever you were asking it to? Of course you could, but that would be too risky wouldn't it? The "infidels" are watching your email for sure, you'll have to be a little more clever. So what to do? Apparently the answer to that is "start a blog so painfully boring that nobody will be able to read it long enough to figure out what we're planning". For maximum cloaking value we'll design it in a manner reminiscent of a wedding invitation (except far less interesting). Naturally, any good plot needs money to succeed and you've covered that base also. Simply mention some random book, movie or CD every few posts, add one of those referral program links at the bottom of the post and watch the blood money roll right in. See the "Post Secret" entry dated November 26th for an example of this. Do I even need to tell you that this fund raising maneuver came immediately after the aforementioned "Edith" post? Apparently the "update" you received involved a request for additional funding to keep your dastardly plot on track. Of course a blog that consisted of nothing but seemingly meaningless secret messages wouldn't sit unnoticed for long. Eventually a man or woman (probably woman) with a greater mind than mine would stumble across your site and decode all of your wicked code worded posts. So how do you keep Jack Bauer and his ilk at CTU off your trail? Boredom, that's how. It's hard to concentrate on code breaking when you're half asleep. In between provocative secret messages you litter your site with long winded stories about Christmas trees and, oh the horror, "blog things". "Blog things" such as the October 28th, 2005 post of the same name that amounted to nothing but a parade of personality tests. Is it coincidence that the "what classic movie are you" result that came back for you was "Apocalypse Now"? Hell no. And how about the "what famous leader are you" test? "You are a detached intellectual whose ideas saved/will destroy the world." Is that a threat? I'm on to you dammit! Your "Army Mom In Training" blog will shield you no longer! Enemies of America will never get my vote! Can I say for sure that this site is somehow terror related? No, but until somebody tells me who (or what??) "Edith" is I ain't ruling it out. The steely gaze of freedom is upon you Nytewind (IF that's even your real name).

Dave: The raw defeatism at LMT is enough to turn back the Allies at Normandy (or the Cavity Creeps at Toothopolis, if you prefer that metaphor). Angie won't be asked to deliver any half-time locker room speeches during the Super Bowl. After reading a few posts, I had half a mind to grab a case of Twinkies and crawl back into bed for the rest of the decade.

Here's all you need to know about LMT: she was named Shitty Blog of the Year by the Shitty Blogs Club.

I think the fine print in the Patriot Act requires me to thank Angie's son for defending my right to own a website as stupid as Maximum Awesome, so thanks for that. The day I can't express my enthusiasm for vomiting action figures or can't order a Starbucks double mocha frappachino for the same cost as the gross national product of Uganda is the day the terrorists have truly won. But, seriously, I hope he's safe (and getting a wicked cool tan).

The Adventures of Zube Girl
Malfouka: Just in case Zube Girl's long-winded "About a Girl" paragraph is not enough, she also finds it necessary to have a separate "Meet the Zubes" section—mentioned twice, no less, in the sidebar—and the omnipresent "100 Things About Me." After reading through all this self-absorption, I can honestly say, I glad she's in Colorado and I'm not. Now, while it may be semi-interesting to read little details about someone's life, I never ever obtain any sort of pleasure from learning about her cats and dogs. Fer christ's sake, they are pretty much all the same and, furthermore, are not subjects that make for a terribly stimulating read. Before you start pelting me with coughed-up hairballs and soggy Milk Bones, ask yourself, did Hemingway write endlessly about the daily antics of his pet cat? Did Dostoevsky pen imaginary conversations with his dachshund? No. No. No. Even Danielle Steele stays clear of pet-related topics (though in her case, it might be an improvement).

Zube Girl (the blog) looks pretty good, though I am disturbed and confounded by the woman-graphic that appears to either be channeling the spirits of departed pets or grasping her head in agony, a la The Scream. It's just plain weird and, now that I think about it, I sincerely hate it.

Zube Girl is generally amusing but she has a tendency to write about flatulence--something I really don't want to hear about. I'm beginning to wonder if she's really a teenaged boy masquerading as a 30-year-old woman… which would make complete sense when you consider that almost every other word she writes is "ass." I don't have a problem with "ass" in general but after reading it approximately 5687 times in the course of one evening, it starts to wear out its welcome. Same goes for the rest of the profanities. Profanities are a lot like perfume: a little bit here and there is good. Too much just makes you stink. And as long as I'm on the subject of stinking, Zube Girl should consider laying off the I-love-my-husband-so-much type posts. These are truly dreadful. I mean, people often love their spouses (so I've heard) and I realize that making public declarations of one's feelings can be quite exhilarating but, the thing is, it's really only meaningful to those directly involved. The rest of us want to kick you. Hard.

Dave: Argh. Yet another manifestation of the "100 Things About Me" virus circulating through the body blogverse. Here's the 101st thing I know about you: You are a lemming and would likely burn down a federal building if I tagged you to do so. Remember those stupid, old forum games where some idiot would post, "Let's count to 1000!" And the subsequent posts would be, "1," "2," "3 LOL!" How is this any better? Answering these stupid things (or worse, tagging a dozen people to do the same) is a blight on any blog. I am very, very weary of seeing the same crap on blog after blog. This is why you people are just bloggers and will never (if there is any shred of justice left in the universe) be admitted to the canon of world literature. Oh, great, Zube's a Jersey girl to boot. Guess what? Bon Jovi sucks.

I hate that Zube's blog, like the design of so many of the blogs out there, is squooshed into a narrow column. You think we care to see your puke green border? Am I to be reading this on a monitor shaped like a giraffe? Use the goddamn space. I'm not arguing for clutter, mind you; I'm pleading for all you "narrow-column-bloggers" out there to stretch your main text a little farther than the width of a Zagat's Guide. Why readability is such a low priority for many of you (below Google ads, and waaaaaaaaay below tagging some loser about "5 questions you never thought you'd be tagged to answer") befuddles me. I hope you all get carpel tunnel in your mouse-scroll-button finger.

Adam: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Blog Thunderdome, Super Bowl XX edition. Tonight, playing the role of the 1985 Chicago Bears is "The Adventures of Zube Girl." To save those of you unfamiliar with Super Bowl lore some unnecessary Googling I'll provide a quick recap. My Bears were so much more dominant than their Super Bowl XX opponent that the game may as well have been cancelled with the Bears taking the victory by default. This episode of the Thunderdome isn't much different. I knew within ten minutes of looking at both sites that I'd be voting for Zube Girl. The December 21st "Oh How I Love Thee...The Word Ass" post was about all I really needed to see. It's hard to even find anything bad about Zube Girl's blog. Christ, she even managed to make pictures of her cats funny. Granted, the cats are pretty damn sexy. With that said, if ever a blog was in dire need of the ability to divide the posts into sections it's this one. Specifically, a "Bummer" section is in order. I'm not nearly enough of a jackass to go into details, but if you've read through the posts you also know it's needed.

Dave: Adam, you old softy, you.

I really hate having to award anything to a Jersey girl, but the judges were unanimous. On this, the 13th of January 2006 (Friday the 13th, no less) Life, My Take is hereby banned for a period of two months. Angie may subtract a week from that since I took so damned long in getting this verdict up. Graphics for the winner and loser.

The Holy Order of Thunderdome hath spoken.

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