Remember that episode of The Simpsons when Homer makes his own website and it is full of dancing Jesus, talking mouths and a lot of banging noises? If this blog turns into that then I have either achieved greatness or failed miserably.

A week ago I was all "Blogging? I think I have seen this in a big-budget Hollywood film with a mediocre cast and the usual teeny-bop icons blasting their auto-tuned medleys." But after stalking the three blogs I have recently started following, I realised that I too can be part of this phenomenon which will no doubt mean nothing in a year or two. Lets be honest, give this a few months and I'll be off the radar.

Something you should know before you follow me. I am into fads and they only last a month, two at the absolute max. So to humour you, internet, here are the fads which I am most proud of having started and never quite finished.

Meat = no deal.

I was vegetarian for two months (with copious amounts of cheating and boasting about how I was uber humanitarian). This started before I travelled to South East Asia (like how I snuck that in there? Oooh I'm just so cultured and experience - whoopdeedoo). The thought of getting a bulimic ass on night buses and long flights had no appeal whatsoever. So before I departed I announced to the two people who cared (and who were unlucky enough to sit next to me on the plane) that I was now a full-time vegetarian. Twenty minutes later I was eating microwaved salmon covered in what was meant to be creamy sauce but what I think was actually melted plastic. While in Asia I did manage to stick to the no-meat diet. Apart from the time when four of us (my sister and two excellent people I met on my travels) broke down in South Cambodia in the middle of nowhere. We were taken in by a Christian family who happily killed a chicken for us to feast on. The vegetarian inside me screamed no! But the hungry well-mannered person ate that chicken and even licked the bones. My bout of vegetarianism lasted two months. After moving cities I wanted to keep up this clean, green and caring persona but the burger joint down the road quickly killed that dream and I am once again a lean (well not quite), mean meat eating machine.

Save us Jebus!

Christianity. One of the longest fads of my life. Now don't get me wrong. This is NOT a ramble about "Oh who am I? Does God really exist? What is the big bang?" I now believe in facts. These are the facts. I used to believe in God. I used to think that a man in the sky made us, judged us, cared for us, and those who did not care about him were destined to rot in hell for all eternity. While some people from the twisted church I went to for most of my teenage years celebrated the fact that their non believing 'friends' were going to hell, I was not one of them. I remember praying to this magic man in the sky to save everybody. Not just the people I loved, but everybody. Was it wrong that I wanted to save those who sinned? Now I look back and think that to wish people to an eternity of torture is completely against morality, mine in particular. Watch Zeitgeist, that documentary opened up my naive mind and showed me that Christianity is not going to be in my deck of cards. 

I am woman, hear me clean.

This fad pops up on my calendar sometimes. I enjoy a clean kitchen. There is nothing quite like the feeling of leaving the clean plates in a cupboard and spreading my charcoal toast on a clean bench. The crumbs get swept in the sink and my hungry stomach enjoys the faint after taste of some sort of cleaning product (exaggerating a tad about the cleaning product taste). But my room, what a sty. I'm one of those floor-drobe kind of gals. I know what is clean and I know what is dirty. Once every two weeks (maybe more, maybe less) I'll work myself into a frenzy and pick up my clothes and place them in the lonely set of drawers and actually use the coat-hangers I have acquired from people, laundry piles and retail stores. Glade gets popped in the wall (although it stays there permanently now that I don't have a window I can open in my room), and my bed gets rearranged or tidied up so I don't look so derelict. I should point out that I don't keep food scraps in my room and I shower daily, sometimes even twice. What a catch.

Romeo, Oh Romeo. Where for art thou Romeo.

Boys. I don't know why, but I can never seem to attach myself to boys. I like boys. I get crushes on boys, I look at their Facebook profiles, occasionally like a status that contains proper grammar or hilarious anecdote, I get the giggles when they text and I get excited when I see them. But it's everything else after that which I can't seem to get right. It is as if everything good about a boy suddenly shuts off and my mind tells me that they are nothing special any more. Suddenly I can't stand being around them and find myself quickly shoving them in the friend (or non-existent) zone. Defence mechanism maybe? This fad turns me on guys then at the blink of an eye turns me off them again. So, to the future 'man of my dreams' (and I blame Disney, Sex and the City and the numerous 90s teen movies I have watches over the years for this) I hope the fad finally ends.

Work it baby, work it!

Sports. Unlike a lot of 'girly girls' I regularly associate with, I like sports. I like drinking beer, cheering for a team, discussing tactics (if I know the jargon) and critisicing players. When it comes to playing however, no deal. I was always one of those mediocre players who yelled a lot, made bad jokes, fell over and span around. I can catch a ball, maybe with my eyes closed providing it doesn't go straight for the kisser. But the number of sports that I have gotten worked up over, bought equipment for and quickly cast aside is a joke.
Soccer taught the five year old Katie (third person, hello!) that running around in the cold chasing after a ball was not an ideal Saturday activity. I have to thank my poor Father for putting up with an upset child for the few weekends where instead of playing I threw tantrums and cried. The one time I did play was only because I was annoying myself with my whimpering and wanted to warm up. It paid off by getting a player of the day trophy which I married to my Barbie later that day.
Netball taught me that girls who do not cut their fingernails are bitches.
Touch rugby taught me that social sports actually meant getting mocked by the A teams and only playing one game was enough to say "Oh I've played touch before."
Tennis taught me that being hungover during a match against a posh girl four years younger and five times better was a recipe for disaster when boys your age (during the years when you're completely self conscious) are watching.
Kick-boxing taught me that some things should be ditched for glasses of red wine.
Running taught me that shin splints aren't actually as cool as they sound. They hurt and you walk like somebody has shoved a large pole up your backside and kicked you in the legs for good measure.

Blogging

So this blog should set the tone for my latest fad, blogging. I like to think I can keep this up, entertain the few people who politely follow, and start an open diary exposing my secrets to the world wide web. I like to think that this won't be a fad, but every diary I have ever started has lasted a few weeks. Is May too late to make a new years resolution?

What a cliché. This is like making a film about making a film. Blogging about blogging. This will be the one and only time that this happens and I promise to clog this up with the most meaningless posts which will entertain, shock, and surprise you. Gee, aren't you lucky?