I've got F***ing ripped apart

http://iwillfuckingtearyouapart.blogspot.com/

They say 'Ask and you shall receive' and so I asked them to review my blog and tear me apart and boy they did just that!

Shawn, Jesus Christ.

Your blog, Empty Sea, is atrocious. Typically, when one delivers bad news such as this, the messenger feels the need to spare the recipient’s feelings, adding a jaunty 'sorry', perhaps, or some vague allusion to 'fighting the good fight', like 'you’ll get ‘em next time' or 'keep that eye of the tiger, champ'. I am not saying that here, Shawn. I am saying, flat-out, with no reservations or regrets, that your blog is awful.

White text on a standard black blogger-template? Half-written in a tongue I can’t understand? Look, imagine me, ol’ Nutjobber, your friendly neighbourhood lily-white suburban Canadian boy, reading this scintillating exchange between you and 'Vicky':

Vicky: 'Theek hai. Lekin kal sab kuch karte hai ha.'
Shawn: 'Ya dude 100%'

I guess I missed the punchline? I fucking hate missing the punchline, Shawn, but do you honestly think I’m going to go try and translate this for my own edification? No, no I’m not. In fact, for the same reason I haven’t yet submitted my own blog to that Japanese blog-review site I Will Be Your Co-Pilot, Have Plans For Sparkling Summer* is the same reason I don’t understand why you would submit this painful, grammarless, forethought-free blog to us. Is it because you tried to warn your readers beforehand?

I am really not good at writing and my thoughts are quite incoherent and never logically arranged (and ya i do make a lot of typos too) so please bear with me.But till then, happy reading!

Until when, Shawn? 'Happy reading' until that monstrous landslide of typos drags me into an abyss of teeth-chattering madness? 'Happy reading' until the abysmal combination of emoticons and improper comma-usage forces me to hang myself with an electrical-cord?

If I invited you over to my house for dinner, Shawn, and as you sat in my kitchen twitching your fingers nervously in response to the black plume of smoke hanging over the stove and the grotesque smear of peanut-butter and fish-entrails congealing on the windows, I proceeded to regale you with stories of how rare I like my chicken cooked, of how I consider the recent anti-bacterial hysteria a product of liberal-government brainwashing, of how my proper hand-washing technique involves frequent bathroom-breaks, well, how would I, as a rational, understanding human being, end this horrifying conversation?

I would say, 'run for your life, I’m a food-murderer'; you would say, 'happy eating'.

Shawn, from his 'About Me' [sic]: Don't stereotype me! I wont fit into any of those boxes of your's!

Nutjobber: I disagree.