"Next Blog"
A few weeks ago, Blogger redesigned itself and added, among other things, that little blue bug up in the top righthand corner that says "next blog." It really should say "random blog," because each time you hit it it takes you to a different one.
It's addicting. It's like dialing random phone numbers, but instead of getting a voice you show up outside people's windows, peering into their living rooms. I wish I had been cut-and-pasting from all the places its taken me, because the trouble is you never get the same place twice.
If I had, highlights would include the girl from Singapore who was very concerned with the modesty of her dress when going out in public, but then blogged in hair-raising detail about her period. Or the teen-aged guy who was, like, had his eyes opened to the TRUTH, dude, by "Farenheit 9/11." Or the Brazilian guy who described what he did on his birthday, so his friends could check it and fill in the memories for him because he was sure he was so drunk he forgot a lot of stuff. Or the college student who wrote for three or four paragraphs describing her careful perusal of the bookstore before choosing a "presidential biography" to read for this semester, and then her disappointment on getting home and learning that Ben Franklin was not, in fact, a president.
Today I laughed out loud at this chunk from the blog of a 16-year-old girl. I'm a sick bastard:
UPDATE: OK, wait, here's another. People are frigging brilliant. I've found my newest addiction.
SOMEBODY STOP ME: I just got taken to a glamor and fashion blog from Indonesia, with the subhead title "Where the pornographies are not involved here!"
It's addicting. It's like dialing random phone numbers, but instead of getting a voice you show up outside people's windows, peering into their living rooms. I wish I had been cut-and-pasting from all the places its taken me, because the trouble is you never get the same place twice.
If I had, highlights would include the girl from Singapore who was very concerned with the modesty of her dress when going out in public, but then blogged in hair-raising detail about her period. Or the teen-aged guy who was, like, had his eyes opened to the TRUTH, dude, by "Farenheit 9/11." Or the Brazilian guy who described what he did on his birthday, so his friends could check it and fill in the memories for him because he was sure he was so drunk he forgot a lot of stuff. Or the college student who wrote for three or four paragraphs describing her careful perusal of the bookstore before choosing a "presidential biography" to read for this semester, and then her disappointment on getting home and learning that Ben Franklin was not, in fact, a president.
Today I laughed out loud at this chunk from the blog of a 16-year-old girl. I'm a sick bastard:
I visited my grandma today...i cried three times while i was in the hospital. she cant talk. she cant do anything. her right side is paralyzed... and i can tell shes hella stressed out. id be too if i couldnt at least talk!
UPDATE: OK, wait, here's another. People are frigging brilliant. I've found my newest addiction.
As it turns out, having my internet switched off has in effect cut out 90% of my contact with the outside world. Losing my phone cuts out another 6%, leaving me with the 4% that makes up my "person-to-person" contact. Unfortunately, even with 95% of my contact with the outside world cut off I still manage to somehow get roped into helping friends move.
SOMEBODY STOP ME: I just got taken to a glamor and fashion blog from Indonesia, with the subhead title "Where the pornographies are not involved here!"
<< Home