There’s this new attitude out there that a “blogger” equals a stay-at-home mom who posts recipes for gorgonzola milkshakes accompanied by pages-long rants about how she did not turn into her mother. I mean just look at the #blogger tag on Twitter. Everything is safe, cozy, filled with Pinterest snaps, tranquil.
That is not how I work. That is not what I am about. You will never catch me, for any amount of money, doting on homemade hummus yogurt or embroidery patterns to stitch “life, laugh, love” on your toilet seat cover.
I blog with my fists. I am on a holy mission to spread enlightenment to the world, and the way I do that is by beating the stupid out of people one concrete skull at a time. I love my job.
See how much…
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