Sunday, April 18, 2010

Reasons why nobody reads my blog

I started with this blog because an American cousin of mine asked me to. After coming back home from a trip to the US I sent him an email in English (We usually speak Spanish between us). He found it funny and told me I had to write a blog in English. I thought it would be a good way to improve my English so I started.

I’m the kind of person who should write a blog because I’m weird and weird things happen to me. Not only weird things, but unlucky and curious things too. If you and I are walking on the street and a bird shits you should calm down, it will land on my head, all over my hear, it will slide down my face and get in to my eyes; getting them itchy. And this probably will occur in front of an attractive group of females. (Oh yes…)

Once I was waiting for a bus to get back home after a night out. It was ten or eleven am (You know how Spain is) I had just moved to the country and to get to my house I needed to take two buses, one to a remote village and then another to an even more remote village where I live. I was waiting in the first remote village bus stop (A bus stop there is a stick in front of a house) I was pretty dizzy and tired after a whole night out.

Suddenly I saw a horse running in my direction really fast, I was standing up so when I saw the horse, I jumped out of the way. The horse kept running and crashed to a house’s window smashing it in to pieces and then it kept running down street. The residents of the house got out very nervous and started studying the damages, then the horse’s master arrived looking for his animal very concerned. They got in to an argument and since I was the only witness I had to answer a lot of questions and even calm down the heated discussion. I found myself hungover in the middle of a discussion I didn’t belong in and I was the most important factor in it (in the end, I think the house’s insurance paid for the window and wall).

Once I almost died when I was riding an old bike. I have very bad luck with bikes, since I was a kid I have broken almost every bike I’ve touch, always random things. But that day I was riding a bike without brakes in the really remote village where I live. I had just moved there so I didn’t know the roads, the one where I was going started to slope and I couldn’t stop so I tried to enjoy the descent. But after a kilometre or so a sharp bend appeared, a normal guy would have just crashed and hurt himself more or less seriously, but not me. It turned out that the curve was actually a little bridge over a dry stream, five meters high more or less. No security at all, just a little tiny curb, a curb where my front wheel crashed, flipping me over and making me fell down.

Thankfully, instead of falling down directly over the rocks and on to the ground, I went over some bushes and I rolled down to the rocks. My bike stayed up in the road and I ended up down a fucking bridge bleeding like hell on my legs and arms. The funny thing is, I got stuck in there, it was too high, it took me over twenty minutes to get back to the road and I had to climb, then I had to walk almost two kilometers to my house, uphill, I didn’t want to even touch that bike anymore and riding a bike uphill is harder than walking up. When I arrived home there were some relatives in there. A cousin, the bike’s owner, took care of my wounds; then she and her mother asked me to lead them to the place I crashed to pick up the bike.

We went in my aunt’s car, when we arrived to that bridge they saw two puppies almost dead on the riverbank on the other side of the bridge. They went down and started to take care of the dogs, I was injured and didn’t want to wait there. I just wanted to rest on a sofa or a bed. I begged them to drive me back home, but they didn’t want to. I ended walking up the road again, two fucking kilometres again (One puppy was already dead, the other was ok until my uncle run over him with his car a few weeks later).

Once I was taking exams in the closest city from my house, a thirty minute drive. I was 22 and was studying to getting the adult’s high school degree, like a GED in the US. I had to study at home, the syllabus was online and I didn’t have to go to classes, just go once a term to make the exams, ten exams in two days. My future was very uncertain (still is) and I needed to really get that degree, that’s maybe the reason why I was really nervous. I didn’t study very much, but I had read the subjects and made a lot of crib sheets.

During the first exam I felt a call of nature (I’m not always shitting myself, I swear). I ignored it and kept writing, it took me a long time to finish that exam so when I was done the other exam just had started and I couldn’t go to the bathroom. I started taking the exam but the needs increased, I farted a lot, really disgusting smells, and everybody around noticed it, I made the usual, look to another person with a bad recrimination face (that works).

But it go to the point where I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to leave the exam, of course where I live they don’t allow the people who are studying adult education to go to bathroom in the middle of exams and I had to give in the exam after fifteen or twenty minutes. Of course in that fucking school there wasn’t paper in the toilets and of course I got exasperate and thought the best idea would be taking my car and drive home. It was a thirty minute drive almost shitting the hell out of myself, that was the second closest time I almost shit on myself (you already know the first). By the way, I failed all the exams but two, one was the English exam Guess what was the other? (I guess I got superhuman powers from the shit, I wrote everything I could before leaving, but I didn’t know too much of that subject)

I have hundres of stupid stories like these. One summer I went to a cousin’s wedding, another cousin and I after the mass went hiding and smoke a few joints. We arrived late to the banquet and everybody was seated, my cousin sat in the only spot left at the youth table and I had to sit in the table with the older people in the other corner of the room surrounded by annoying elderly people and I was a little bit high. Then after the meal, when the dances started I was taping how the only pretty woman in the place was dancing when a thirty year old man who I didn’t know asked me:

Thirty year old man: Hey tío ¿Tienes novia? (Hey man, Do you have a girlfriend?)

Me: ¿Por qué? ¿Eres marica o que? (Why? Are you a fag or something?)

He didn’t take that answer well and he tried to fight me, the people held him and I just ignored him. Later I found out that I was taping his girlfriend and they weren’t happy with that. I didn’t realize it, I just was taping things; the only hot woman there appeared in my camera and I kept rolling. Then someone asked me if I had a girlfriend and I answered the first thing that came to my mind.(The guy that tried to fight me was my cousin’s wife’s cousin, and nobody was happy with the incident, it seemed like everything was my fault)

A few months ago my dentist got mad at me because I didn’t attend an appointment, they really hate that, he told me that I distorted his whole morning. I apologized to him the next time, but our relationship never has been the same. What I never told him is that I went to his clinic that morning, but before I stepped in the building I stepped on a fucking disgusting dog’s crap, tried to clean it but couldn´t because there wasn’t any water or grass around. For a couple of minutes I wandered around searching for a place where I could get my sneaker clean, but I didn’t, I got tired and I was pissed off, so I took my car, drove twenty minutes with shit smell and cleaned the sneaker at home.

Weird thins happen to me, all the time, that’s why I thought that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to write a blog. Share my adventures with the people who actually live a normal life, share my miseries. But when I started to write it I found out that nobody was reading it. These are my reasons why nobody reads my blog:

1/ It’s probably too early to expect a lot of readers, I just have to wait for one to show up and then gradually the blog would get more successful (Nothing I have done, do or will do would get more successful or successful)

2/ I chose a bad website, people don’t go on it. Plus I don’t know many people who understand English to tell them about my blog (I relate better with illiterates)

3/ People are only interested in real sex experiences blogs (Fiction is just not my thing)

4/ Readers just like family blogs, those ones that talk about how good life is, how tall the kid is getting, how in love the writer is with this new guy/girl/dog/cat/house/car, how bad his or her classmates were with the writer in the past or how some foreign country bank ripped the writer off (Yeah, that’s real literature)

5/ People think that my humour is beyond their minds. They worship me but they can’t follow me or understand me (I get it, same thing with women happens to me)

6/ They don’t read it because I am white (We are in 2010 I think it’s time to accept every race but gypsies)

7/ Readers fear me, they think I’m an unstable person and I will kill them if they read my blog (They are wrong I try to only kill people who really deserve it)

8/ The world hates me, in fact my life is in danger because of this blog (Your life is in danger because of this blog too)

9/ This blog really sucks, my stories aren’t funny at all, in fact they are offensive to women, kids, the elderly, men, blacks, gypsies, Jews, Asians, Native Americans and whites. My ten options are predictable and dreadful. My English is too bad too and they get more annoyed at every word they read (I’m not a racist, I even talked to a nigger once and I’m not sexist at all, I love cunts and those things around them)

10/ People are not interested in a sex offender’s blog (I’m not interested in readers who aren´t sex offenders)

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous3/7/10

    I've read all your blog post and i find them offensive because I am both black and a christian, but despite this I still read them. I think your work is funny and relatable.

    I read dontevenreply too and its great, but I dont like it as much. Mike's work doesnt seem as real, like he is some prick who pretends to be all tough while he is on his computer but would never do any of that stuff in real life.

    Your english does need work, but its not nearly as bad as you say it is, with or without your cousin's help. At worst it comes across as something a highschool student wrote without proofreading. ps. my writing isnt that great and i've spoken english my whole life.