Everyone wants to start a blog, everyone. No I’m being serious, everyone. Ok, maybe not that homeless guy over there, but if you gave him a Mac air, it’s most likely. What do they think? They’ll be the next Tavi nine year old fashion blogging prodigy? The new Perez HiIton who’s become such a painful fence sitting, spirulina drinking hippie, that I haven’t been back since 2006. So yeah of course silly, I’m starting a blog.
I started out making a blog for my wild nights out in London, terrible dates with the opposite sex and just general drunken debauchery. But the more I write the increasingly I delete and well if anyone’s used a keyboard they’ll know that’s a terrible way to get your word count up.
To blog or not to blog – or more what to blog about… that is the question ? Back in your box Shakespeare, we’re only in WordPress.
Which brings me to think of blogs I’ve religiously read for 5 years plus now – my favourite being wwtdd.com (What Would Tyler Durdan Do) Fight Club anyone? And sure, I stumbled across it because it was about celebrities but still read it every week because I love the guys writing style of sarcastically bashing them whilst talking and comparing everything to his nether regions every 5 seconds. So clearly it’s not the content that gets me back there day after day.
I’m sure my parents weren’t angels growing up and Dad’s ‘oldest bachelor’ in the town’ tag – makes me think a whole lot of things, that I don’t want to think about much more. They’ll tell me their hilarious cat and mouse game of Dad snaring Mum and sometimes when I’m home Dad will point at a random lady and say “She used to be in my dance book” with a giggle. But what I’m saying is, there’s no Facebook back to their teenage years and no blog divulging every nook and cranny of their dating disaster life. So why the heck am I about to write all that down for you all read!?
So I’m anti the parents reading it and more than anything I’m anti a potential partner reading it. Damn straight it was the best night of my 29 year old life – but does someone who thinks you’re kind of cute really need to read or hear about pashing your way to Paros and making out with half of Mayfair? No they don’t. That’s like pulling out a bunch of ex love letters and dumping it on their lap for a looksie – err no thanks.
Another group being my friends – I’ve got friends I share the revolting of disgusting details over evvvverything – and then there’s all the other friends whom I don’t. The “TMI Lorenza!” friends, or the nice tea-and-biscuits friends, and of course the worst kind, the judgemental friends. We’ve got different sorts of friends for different sorts of things, not everyone wants to drink vodka till you throw-up-on-each-other and not everyone wants to sit in David Jones while you try on dress after dress and ask “Does my ass look huge in this?”. So am I worried what my friends would think? – Of course I am! I’d like to keep all the good ones please and that might mean the ‘London Lorenza Memoirs’ will have to be anonymous. Oh wait, that title.. damn it!
I hear you say why not just write it in another perspective or make it all about a friend being the one who the crazy things happen too – well that’s no fun is it?!
So this blog is officially turning into more just things I want to talk about – but don’t get too jaded – I’ll pop in a London night out, adventure date-a-thon, she-was-hanging-from-the-what?! story every now and then, otherwise my kids* might think I was really boring.
*I don’t have any kids.