One Who Blogs

The word "blog" is such a disgusting-sounding word. What multimillion-too-rich-and-important-to-do-their-own-work-and-have-twenty-interns-to-do-it-anyway marketer came out with THAT logo?
Blog. It's that sound full milk cartons make when you turn them upside-down. It rhymes with Slog, Bog, Dog, Glog (which is the way teenagers and college boys drink milk, as I hope you were not previously aware), and Snog. All of which are unpleasant and also very wet. The only worse sounding word I can think of is "Blogger: One who blogs." If that doesn't sound like a ghetto dictionary definition for a slang word for a hobo in New Hampshire, nothing does.

Blog. This bizarre word has become part of modern lingo that every not-paid intern must use in at least every other sentence so that their peers, future employers, and parents all know that they are, in fact, doing something worthwhile with their major(s) and also that they shop regularly at vintage stores (and are proud of it), do asymmetrical and abstract photography in their spare time (one photo two weeks ago in an alleyway with their iTouch), are faithful tai-chi health fanatics (even if they did just start a week ago), are single (it's "complicated"), and "get" art.

Blog, the one word that never fails to make you sound six-times more annoying when you say it. Non-bloggers only have to hear that sloppy-sounding word once to suddenly realize that they still haven't watched that funny video their almost BF sent to their cellphone (NOT a touch screen) or need to flip aimlessly through their non-biodegradable planners while they conveniently turn off their ears.

Blog. It's what makes we hopelessly and proudly addicted people feel smart and quirky and creative and not at all like that other guy whose blog is about all his biking trips last summer. Because OUR blog is different from anyone else's. It's about sock puppets. We're certain its number of "followers" will explode exponentially in about three month or so. We know how it'll go, how all internet sensations gone celebrities went: one person will stumble upon it while searching for their designer woolen socks. Their curiosity will be piqued by our festive background and clever subtitle. They will start reading and be instantaneously hooked. Enraptured, this person will tell their sister-in-law, who will think it's the coolest and most informed blog about sock puppets she's ever seen, and she'll tell her boyfriend, who'll show all his business partners and suddenly we, the inspired, but still nasty-sounding, blogger will become America's leading official on sock puppets. Ventriloquists and puppeteers will read it daily for vital information in their very important fields. And then we are famous. Well, not yet, you understand. We're still waiting for the first follower. But really, the popularity will pick up. Any year now...