… I think I should try not to say Fuck as often.

Oh, what’s that?  You didn’t know I was famous?

Fucking. A.  I have been interviewed, people.  INTERVIEWED!  I am now featured on a website as a Blogger With Balls.  Fair warning:  I requested to have my interview conducted via email so I could write my responses.  My responses were then turned into a first person article, by someone else.  The transitions are slightly lacking and I come off a teensie bit more arrogant than normal.  If you can imagine that.

But, still.  I feel all famous and stuff and like maybe I should start charging for those pictures of me in my underwear.

Of course, with great fame comes great privilege.  And with great privilege comes great responsibility.  In fact, as a famous blogger, I am now going to be expected to live by a code of conduct.

A mutherfucking Code Of Conduct.  For Bloggers.

What. In. The. Hell?

First of all, let me say that I believe that everyone - online or off - should be expected to live by some general code of conduct.  I believe that people should say please and thank you and excuse me when you let rip a shit producing fart in the company of a lady.  I believe that stupid people should stay home.  I believe that smart people should still have to be kind.  Even to stupid people.

I. Believe.  I being the key fucking word there.  Because mostly?  I believe that I am responsible for my own thoughts and actions and words and the consequences of them.

Part of this “code” involves taking responsibility for other people’s comments.  I refuse to be responsible for Avitable.  That is insane.

But mostly, I refuse to let some “influential thinker” tell me what I can and cannot fucking write on my own damn blog.  I thought the blogosphere was one of the last places on earth that valued personal expression.  The good.  The bad.  The stupid and even the horribly boring.  This isn’t prime time fucking TV people - it’s the INTERNET.  We have X’s and close buttons and Oh My God CHOICES.

Choices about what we read.  Choices about what we write.  And, I suppose, choices about ridiculous “conducts” we will pledge our allegiance to in order to make us feel pretentious important.

In the end, isn’t that what blogging is all about?  The power of choice.  The power of the voice.  The power to conduct ourselves however the hell we want and see just what the rest of the world really thinks about it?

But, then again, what do I know?  I’m just an almost famous Hot Mommy Blogger.

Edited to add: the story is featured on Orato.com.  I do appreciate the value in a reciprocal link and am much obliged to do it right.  Unless they want to be known as the place who unleashed unveiled the Blogger With Balls. :-) (thanks again, Heather!)

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Posted in Blogging and Bloggers - Tips, Contests and Stuff for Bloggers