If you browse the blogosphere (whichever way you do that), you’ve probably come across the sort of blog I have learned to hate: a tell-all emotionally tangled mess that no one cares about except the author.

I hate to say it, but it’s like wetting your pants in public — it may feel nice and warm to you, but everyone else is pretty much freaked/grossed out.

Not that there’s anything wrong with an internet diary; it’s always a good thing to keep a record of your past somewhere, if only to jog your memory when you start to forget things.

But then again, the web is not an annonymous place. Ladies and gentlement, this is like when your little sister stole the key to your diary and read about your crush on Donny Osmond. If it’s out there, chances are someone will find it and read it, and you will be embarrased when they do.

Just thought we could use the warning.

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