Something that I've noticed about myself since starting this godforsaken blog, is the peculiar (to me, at least) way that I get my ideas.
I can't just pick a topic from current events or from other bloggers and run with it. It has to suddenly *pop* into my head from out of nowhere and lodge in firmly. Then I know it is time to post.
Another thing that I noticed immediately is that there are existing, time-tested blog posting formulas (no shit, Sherlock!) a plenty. Posting patterns and the usual subjects. Recurring themes. Which, to be honest, I do enjoy reading. This is "comfy old shoe" (see my Dreadful Bowling Analogy for further details on this fetish) territory that is kept perpetually fresh via the unique perspectives of each poster.
However, one thing that you should (as if you life depended on it, because if my doomsday machine is EVER functional - it shall) know about me, is that I am anti-fads (that's FADS, so please, get an eye exam and stop already with the angry emails and Diesel shoe coupons!). I try to avoid trendiness (tardiness too, but I was late on that deal), ensuring that my mojo reaches an audience with a maximum capacity of one. Ultimate exclusivity, I repeat softly to myself as I struggle to find temporary peace and nod off to sleep.
So, I do my best to march to a different beat. Beating to a different march, you say? Well no, I hadn't considered that. Is it trendy?
Anyhoo, by now you may be anxiously wondering when - for Rasputin's sake! - I'm going to get on the promised topic of Russian Mail Order Brides.
Is now a good time?
Okay, well the reason that I went off on the earlier "I'm a rebel because I avoid trends" tangent is to grease you all up for my inevitable SELL OUT. For you see, I'm about to use spam as my basis for today's topic, something that may have been done once or twice before.
So here goes.
But wait, you need a bit of background information first, in order to fully appreciate (who am I kidding, you cretins never appreciate anything that I do for you, why I even bother is beyond me) the magical effect that this has had upon me.
My mom was born in Russia (did I just hear a "well, THAT explains a lot"?), so I sort of have a fondness and interest in the old patch of ice (Russia, not mom). Dad was from Texas, BTW, so feel free to dispense with the Lee Harvey Oswald jokes.
Okay, okay, I sense a mutiny brewin', so here is the latest email (spaced for clarity) that I've received from these wonderful, international pimps:
Subject: ***Possible Spam*** you have new mail from Ksenia, 25 y.o., Russia, dating [Oooh, dating means ON THE PROWL. Yes!]
From: "Marina N." firstname.lastname@example.org [from Germany, how cool is that? And from "Marina", no less, which of course instantly evokes images of exotic ports of call and Mrs. Oswald as well. Enough! You had me at "From:"!]
Date: Sat, June 24, 2006 3:49 am [someone ELSE was up that late agonizing over MY love life?! Usually this is a solo activity.]
To: email@example.com [this, BTW, is no where even CLOSE to my actual email address. In fact, I get EVERY email where the "to" field starts with a "t". Thank you very much, Starband, for your competence with handling email, rocket scientists that you are.]
Priority: Normal [I would think, no, hope, that MY chances at a monotonous relationship would justify a "High" setting. But nooooo.]
Now here is where you are REALLY going to hate me. I have to go to dinner. My eldest sister once gave me these sage words of advice: "leave 'em wantin' more". Only now, later in life, did I realize that there are multiple ways to interpret this adage. And some are not flattering.
So there has to be a "Part II" to this story, unfortunately.
This is how I must leave you for now. Wanting more.