I was recently subjected to a random outpouring of internet hatred, the kind of which I've only ever encountered on the most successful blogs. As Samantha Jones insists to Smith when the phrase 'Absolut Asshole' is written on his ad campaign, just before he makes it, it can only be good. Anyone can have fans, but to have haters means you've really made it.
Which would be great, except this hater wasn't attached to my blog, or anything personal. It was in response to a comment on Youtube. And it was completely unrelated.
I've had people respond negatively to my comments before. But those were reasoned, sensible responses objecting logically to my comment. This one, however, was nothing to do with it. Bluntly, the person wrote 'your a loser' and told me to go 'become a man'. I was a tad confused by this. Why choose this particular avenue? I didn't insult the band whose video I commented on, so that rules that out - I said they were good. And if he was a random hater (such as the type that join 'I Hate Cheryl Cole' Facebook groups to say 'woooo your all fugly losers i luv cheryl woooo'), why single me out?
Internet hate can be very entertaining. I have spent many happy hours reading the comments on blogs like Godammit where people club together to abuse other bloggers/celebrities/aspects of popular culture. Except in those cases, and I know because I participate, those people have a reason for hating. In my case, I was just some randomer's easy target.
So for any haters who wish to comment on my blog for constructive reasons (like I'm too fat for shorts, I'm ugly, or they think my writing's shit), bring it. But be prepared to back it up. And do NOT use bad grammar, or you, like Youtube Person, will be called an illiterate fucktard.
Ok, on to more neutral ground. Or so I thought. I have been wanting a loose, lightweight black shirt for ages, so though this one was effing extortionate (bloody American Apparel) it fitted the bill. Because I was having a strangely confident day I decided to wear it with shorts. The shirt was longer than the shorts, and I didn't tuck the shirt in. My mum said it was lewd. You judge.