Only steers and queers come from Texas

I don't like blogging. I think it' stupid and vain. Not vain like make-up or sports cars, but vain like talk radio. Like I wanna hear what anyone else has to say about anything.
Like every other hobby I've ever had, blogging will inevitably become more of a chore than a pleasure, and so I will stop. I'm blogging anyway. I've done it before. And like nail-biting and forgetting to flush, it has found it's way back into my repertoire of bad habits.
I stand by my statement that blogging is, and will always be stupid. So if it's stupid and I don't enjoy it, why bother doing it at all? I'll take this one step at a time:
1. We all do stupid things even when we know they are stupid. Some people try cocaine, some people drag race, some people invade Iraq. This is my stupid thing.
2. I don't like it, but I do it anyway much the way an obese woman cries while plowing through a strawberry cheesecake. She knows it's bad for her, she wishes she could stop, and she knows she's an idiot for doing it. I cry while I blog.

I'm neither a Czech hockey player, nor a sailor.