Welcome to the inaugural ceremony of the soon-to-be-coveted Whoorlie awards. You all look absolutely ravishing. Please take your seats.
Over the past several years, we’ve seen a plethora of blog-based awards. The Weblog Awards, The BOB Awards, The Bloggies, The Perfect Post Awards and the highly sought-after “Look At Me. I’m So Important That I Won A Blog Award” Blog Awards are just the tip of the iceberg. It seems almost every blog I frequent dons some sort of colorful button screaming “I’m better than you, turdbag. Bite me.”
Well, what about the other special and extremely gifted writers* out there? Are these people* not worthy of such awards? Maybe these people* are holding back, afraid that their* sheer brilliance and talent might alienate readers around the globe…their* words acting as a mask, YES, A MASK! A mask that hides the pure poetic genius festering inside their* souls! Have you considered that? HUH, Darren?! HUH?!
To that, I say TralalalaLAH! I, err I mean we, We LAUGH at your snubbery! We don’t need your precious awards!
Enter Whoorlies, stage right!
To qualify for a Whoorlie, you must have NO previous blog awards in your repertoire. And of course, you must be a genius and all that stuff I wrote up there.
On with the show!
If I Had A 100 Things List, It Would Be Eerily Similar – Metalia. Seriously, avocado? Grass green? Football? Lip gloss? Good speller? The nose thing? I could go on forever.
Best Public Service Announcement – No Pasa Nada. She says NO, sucka! But are you saying no to the Whoorlie?
Best Photo Of Sleeping Child – Hola, Isabel. Only one of the many reasons I read Isabel, but C’MON, that photo is HILARIOUS.
Congratulations to the 2007 winners. You may now adorn your sidebars with this beauty.
Please contain your excitement. PLEASE CONTAIN YOUR EXCITEMENT! Let’s act like adults, mmmkay?
I now abruptly conclude the First Annual Whoorlie Awards. My brain has offically melted from all of the linkage.
Coming soon! The Average Post Awards!
*ahem…ahem…AHEM, YOU FOOLS!
Do I have a new link for you! This chica is simply a fantastic photographer. And okay, possibly my best friend. But I would still think she was extremely talented even if I didn’t know her! I fucking swear! (looking around for Mormon Joe)
Enough already…I give you the fabulous Caroline Cohenour Photography.
Did anyone see my Jayhawks stomp the Kentucky Wildcats and the Niagara something-or-others this weekend? As my friend and former co-worker Joe would say, “FREAK! Those games were freaking awesome!”
Joe is Mormon and doesn’t speak any type of profanity, so when he gets really riled up or stressed out, he just yells “FREAK! FREAK!” over and over until happiness washes back over his soul. Joe is super easy-going and couldn’t care less if I happen to let a couple of nasty words spill forth, but out of respect to him, I try to keep my trucker’s mouth on the down low.
This usually does not work well. The pressure, people. The pressure of pleasant syntax crushes me every damn time.
Joe: That referee was pretty lame.
Whoorl: Dude, what a diii…thering idiot.
Joe: Did you try that new restaurant I was telling you about?
Whoorl: Oh my Gah…lly! That place was so good! But the service sucked…(stopping myself from adding “donkey balls” to the end of the phrase and now questioning the word “sucked”. “Fuck, did I just say sucked?”, repeats in my head, throwing me off. I have officially entered crisis mode.)
Joe: (oblivious to my internal crisis) Yep, my waiter wasn’t that great. He had a huge pink mohawk.
Whoorl: Oh my God, that was my waiter! Uh, I mean, oh my gah…shit…I mean shoot. SHIT! JESUS CHRIST JOE I CAN’T DO THIS!
Joe: Whoah, dude. Take it easy.