It’s a Saturday night and your long time, on-again-off-again DFMO has left you high and dry to smoke and eat Wenzels with a girl whose thighs don’t touch when she stands up. All of your BFFs are off writhing in someone else’s bed, getting a nightcap at DKE or are possibly WUJGs (Washed Up Junior Girls) like myself and have already fallen asleep with a case study practice book and a bowl of Ramen or crying to this week’s episode of Glee. Pretty much, that means you have no one to be fat with and bitch to. Where’s a girl to turn when there’s no one to tell her that she won’t die alone with 50 cats in Celebration Florida or shout “Who needs skinny bitches? Real men loves curves!” at random passers-by? The answer my friends, is your blog. Your ever ready, never judgmental, haven for the lonely, unattractive, and emotionally disturbed, write about everyone and everything you’ve ever hated, blog!

We’re led to believe (and I don’t know where we’re getting it) that blogs are for weirdos. That normal, socially well-adjusted, college-aged people, are off getting invited to parties, doing keg stands and having meaningless sex with people they’d be ashamed to be seen eating froyo with, and are thus far too busy to keep a glorified diary about all of their fears, disappointments, and secret seventh-grade-style crushes. We’re also told by the inaccessible gods of social decorum, that popular people don’t have feelings. Despite the fact that we know “everybody hurts sometimes” (thanks R.E.M.), the key to being cool is to let people speculate about the condition of your face without makeup or what you got in CogSci last semester, but to never show a crack in the facade. But just because you’re good at pretending to be Barbie doesn’t mean you’re fooling anyone: your insecurities are as transparent as your Wednesday Toads attire.

Now I don’t suggest that you use your blog as a means of airing out all of your dirty laundry. It’s probably not wise to talk about how much you “raged” at that kegger last weekend or how you couldn’t find your bra before your walk of shame (let’s face it, we all want to be employed someday). But blogging is cathartic. It’s kind of the equivalent of eating Ben & Jerry’s with your best friend, watching Lifetime for an afternoon, and getting a mani-pedi, all rolled up into the simple gesture of clicking submit. Blogs are awesome. You can talk about anything, anyone for that matter. You can pretend to be a moral authority on things you’ve never even done, and the best part, although everyone will know you have feelings, they aren’t allowed to confront you about them. Stalking someone’s blog is a guilty pleasure akin to watching porn on your roommates computer: just because you’ve done it, doesn’t mean that you want anyone to know about it.

So stand proud, bloggers. Tell us about your Sunday sob stories, your Friday night casualties, your Tuesday afternoon alcoholic rages. Share your candid opinions of people who wear leggings as pants and those who are addicted to Apple products. Blog away. Because silence isn’t cool anymore. Sharing is caring. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll feel a little better. You can’t stay young forever, you know? You might as well learn how to bitch about things now.