Thou shalt not have any latex gods before me
OK, wait. You mean I put all that effort into designing my diary, add just the right amount of aesthetic frill in combination with no-nonsense utility, light up a dozen brightly coloured scented candles, self-administer a Swedish massage (almost dislocating my shoulder in the process), anoint said newborn diary with the Colonel's special blend of herbs and spices, pray to Athena, pray to Jahweh asking that he doesn't smite me for praying to false idols, pray to my false idol made from boilable latex, extra handy for quick sterilisation, asking that it forgive me for praying to Jahweh, edit, edit, edit, and edit, and nothing happens? Not even an automated email notifying me that I have written a diary entry and, should I be unaware that I've done so, I can visit my unbeknownst diary entry at such-and-such URL to find out what I just wrote that I was unaware of writing?
come hither - back off
I thought the whole idea behind a public diary was to fulfill an exhibitionistic desire for attention and to provide a hollow substitute for real human interaction. There is no reason whatsoever why fireworks shouldn't light my browser window ablaze the moment I click the "done!" button.
I at least expect a cyber hug from the Diaryland Fairy.
Even a handshake would do.
I feel so empty. Thank Jahweh for false idols.
make idle gossip (2 comments so far)
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