I realize that the patriotism of those who belong to LiveJournal/Diaryland/Diary-X/Etc. Ad Nauseum, is just about as deeply rooted as one's preference to Coke/Pepsi/RC/Etc. Ibid, and to all that, I say, "Feh!"
"Feh!" I say!
I've used 'em all. They're all lovely services. Let's just jump off our high horses, and let's just tell those horses to quit bogarting the joint, while we're at it.
I've got one of the best diarylanders in town at the moment. Anyone read Pablo Kickasso? No? NO!? Why the hell not, damn you? What the hell is wrong with you anyway? Cheezuss!
Pablo and I have one of the most healthy relationships two people can possibly have. When he's in my city, he has a place to crash. Likewise, I've been offered a dogbasket in his stylish, trendy North London flat. When together, we drink until there ain't no more drinkin' to be done (or, in the case of London, until 2am), and do our best to entertain the other. When apart, we just wish each other the best and occasionally drop little notes to each other to that effect.
That's it. No hidden agendas. No obligations (besides being drunk and entertaining, which isn't too much a drain on my resources, I can tell ya). Just two people perfectly capable of enchanting, intellectual conversation choosing [keyword] to be drunken idiots instead.
(Oddly, when being a drunken idiot with someone lacking the intrinsic potential of intelligence well that's just a mite boring, don't you find?)
Speaking of intelligent drunkards, tonight's my second night working the fab new nightclub "Lounge Lizards" on Decatur Street, 'cross from House o' Blues. Any intellectuals fissin' ta get dere drink on in the tri-Parish area really ought stop by and give me a hoot or a hollar, if you're that sort.