RazzyBlog

Writersprout is the chick in the blue shirt, in case you needed help differentiating her from her other homely cookie cutter Brooklyn hipster friends. I guess "Writersprout" originated from her self-image as a master of the written word who has flowered like a damn dandelion-ass weed in the form of her snorefest of a blog. If you go to her website, you'll find a lot of tedious "essays" (because that sounds so much more pretentious and literary than "post") about her love of running, indie music that nobody's heard of except EVERYONE WHO LIVES IN FUCKING WILLIAMSBURG, and her prowess at baking vegan cupcakes. Oh, and there's also regular reports of all the books she's read, just to remind you of her staggering intellect (trust that this bitch cited The Unbearable Lightness of Being, the number one go-to book for advertising that you're a pretentious pseudo-intellectual on social networking profiles, on her Facebook).

Much to my chagrin, I realized that Writersprout and I have a shocking number of things in common. We're both Norwegians from the Dub-A in the P-N-Dub (she's from Everett, I'm from Puyallup), we both live in New York, we both have blogs (obviously), and we're both bisexual (well, I found instances of her cruising for chicks online on okcupid even though her Facebook says she's straight). I could have easily wound up like her had I stayed the course of being an obnoxious poetry-writing lesbian. Luckily for me, I turned sixteen and realized that life is too short to compensate for my insecurities by fronting like I'm some kind of intellectual giant. I might as well be true to myself and ask people to take it or leave it. Writersprout didn't, and now at thirty, she's still what I was when I tried to make myself forget how much I hated myself for being kind of gay, totally weird, and socially inept by portraying myself as the most interesting person in the entire fucking world rather than just a mousey wallflower toting around a copy of The Bell Jar and acting like I discovered Morrissey.

If you can get through the first "essay" (which was rejected by the literary powerhouse known as Runner's World magazine in spite of the heavy thesaurus usage that obviously went into its composition), I applaud you for having the patience of a damn saint. I scrolled through and was ready to smack a bitch. Since I don't do physical violence (at least not since I gave a bitch a bloody nose for beating me in the All Saints School fourth grade spelling bee), I instead decided to vent my aggression here on my trusty blog by writing an "essay" about what a dumb slag she is.

Unfortunately for the internets, she has decided to expand her blog empire and has started a new blog about her favorite hobby besides running and cupcakery: SUBLETTING. Yes, this chick actually SUBLETS for a hobby, so that she can live in various New York City neighborhoods, and has called for the thrilling tales that fellow subletting enthusiasts can tell (so any aspiring soporific writers out there, feel free to submit your uninspired work).

Writersprout, do us all a favor. Quit the running diaries and the cupcake commentary and the subletting stories and the reviews of Moldy Peaches concerts or whatever and start writing about your sex life. I've heard rumors that you're busy having threesomes and stuff, and that would be FAR more entertaining to hear about. As long as you insist on having an internet personality, you might as well have one that's actually interesting. People love hearing about threesomes. Trust this.

Also, make sure you give me a heads up before you return to the P-N-Dub for a visit. I saw you gave my hometown a shout-out for having a cupcake bakery:

I would like to make sure I avoid this place so I don't have to come face-to-fug face with you the next time I'm Doing the Puyallup (April 24th-30th...brace yourself, P-N-Dub). Then again, I tend to frequent Puyallup establishments like The Roadhouse, Muggs 'n' Juggs, Bumpy's, Nifty's Fifties, and Neener's rather than Indulge Cupcakes, so I'm probably in the clear. Writersprout sprout-up SUCKS.