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Nowadays everybody seems to be united by an international obsession with documenting our lives, whether that is proudly displaying all those tenuous connections we have on LinkedIn, or tweeting a picture of the shepherds pie that mum just laid on the table for dinner. Why is it that we feel the need to make a show of every minuscule and typically insignificant aspect of our daily activities? Is it a form of self-justification for our life choices, or a constant need to compare how much fun we are having with others? While the D-listers of the virtual world (bebo, myspace and the like) have faded into oblivion, others have reigned triumphant and continue to flourish.
Whatever it is, tweeting, blogging, facebooking, youtubing, tumbler-ing etc, Internet sensations slavishly dominate the modern day lifestyle. No longer is it sufficient to connect with others through mingling at the local bus, texting or, once the pinnacle of social interaction, chatting on MSN. Nowadays news travels faster and faster, and we have to be facebooking, tweeting and blogging to keep up with the latest who’s who. Most fads seem to pass but this blogosphere phenomenon seems to be stubbornly persistent, so with the old adage of ‘if you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em’ ringing in our ears we thought that we had better roll up our sleeves and get involved.
Most material published on the Internet does seem rather, well, is the phrase ‘inane twaddle’ too harsh? I mean do we really care that you got a gingerbread caramel latte in Starbucks and are now loving your new sparkly French tips? Not really, but it provides a mild distraction from our mundane lives by briefly letting us into yours. And, as every good self-confessed hypocrite proclaims, ‘we shall no doubt equally be a culprit of that which we criticize’. Pot, Kettle, Black and all that jazz. So while we are inwardly squirming as we write this, maybe someone, somewhere, will read this load of dribble and it’ll provide the indulgent procrastination that we have found from others.
This is a pretty big step for us, allowing someone to read what you’ve written is pretty much on par with baring your soul, not to mention opening yourself up for public ridicule. Social media coupled with our rather cruel friends who all likely to indulge in a bit of ‘banter’ (the one and ONLY time we will ever use that word in this blog), will probably lead to this being the equivalent of us tearing ourselves up into easily digestible sized chunks and feeding ourselves to the proverbial wolves. Hopefully this won’t turn into an amusing anecdote to bring up at dinner parties (because we definitely go to dinner parties….), ‘oh Babs & Revs, remember that time when you guys fancied yourselves as bloggers’. Ah well, if this becomes a failed enterprise we shall just cut ourselves off from Internet life, become social pariahs and find another hobby.
Bit late to turn back now, so let the games begin.
Babs & Revs
Puss Puss *
*Puss Puss: an affectionate Swedish idiom literally translated as ‘kiss kiss’. So for those of you that were wondering the signoff isn’t a sexual allusion, we learnt it from our Swedish flat mates and have become quite a fond of the little phrase. Plus we are cultured bigwigs who like to drop pretentious anecdotes into conversation.

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