Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Friday, April 07, 2006

Missing Link

Short Explanation: Very shortly after I made my blog public, some comic book reading pseudo adult tool happened upon it and took umbrage. He put a link to my blog in a post criticizing my verbosity. Considering the mostly monosyllabic content of his blog, it was a bitter pill to swallo. Anyway, this was my way of flippin him a big fat bird, figuratively speaking. I didn't name him by name or link to his blog, but it made me feel better. Jerkwad. No, it's not profound or erudite, but it still makes me feel better and I still think it's funny. I think everyone has a person like this in their life and we all wonder what is wrong with him, don't we?

Missing Link

WOW. My glimpse into the blogger realm has given me a disconcerting reality check, which I suppose only another long married woman who mostly communes with long married men can relate to. I rarely encounter single men who can legally have sex with me, so my knowledge of them is, understandly, limited.

The way I think of them is largely determined by how they are woven into the fabric of my life; The handsome but effeminate school teacher, the slack jawed but admirably built weight instructor, the pierced and scowling yet scholarly looking bookstore clerk, the painstakingly professional yet inexplicably shady accountant/insurance salesman/grocery store manager...these are all distinctly asexual manifestations of maledom who cross my path with frequency, but to whom I pay scant attention, since they do not belong to the core of my reality. They exist only on the fringes of my life.

Oh yes, there is the occasional exception; a distinctive male who, by virtue of transcendant beauty, brawn or brains, imprints himself upon one's consciousness and insinuates himself into one's thoughts despite repeated admonitions to one's self that one is a happily married woman, and that hasty, clandestine sex in a Little League dugout would not be as good as it sounds, or that relocating to Hollywood to accomodate a career based mostly upon the ability to mash other people into a pulp would be a lark, but would ultimately grow stale. But these are momentary flights of fancy, which usually fade amid the hustle and bustle of domesticity and only occasionally rear up to remind one that the brain is indeed, the largest erogeneous zone.

But, as mentioned above, there is another breed of male afoot; a Missing Link of sorts, bridging the gap between adolescence and adulthood. A perplexing and tragic man-child lurking on the edges of chat rooms, blogs and RPGs everywhere; one whom I thought had been left behind in the "angst ridden social pariah occult dabbling uber geek" phase of my rebellious pseudo-punk teenage years. It seems he still exists in a weird sort of time warp...a twenty or thirty something nod to Peter Pan'dom.

This male still lives with one or both of his parents, which allows him to devote all of his income to his teal blue T-top Trans-Am, and support his D&D habit. It also gives him an out should he actually get farther than "I like D&D and I play in a band", because he is secretly afraid of women. He adorns his walls with posters of Christy Brinkley, Loni Anderson, and Justine Bateman. He wonders why he can't meet a girl like them. He works at a retail or fast food establishment. This gives him the flexibility he needs to go on Gigs with his REO Speedwagon Tribute band, and the freedom to wear his hair in a ponytail. He thinks he might like to be Manager someday, but isn't sure his busy schedule allows for that kind of commitment. His favorite movies are Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, Tron, and Dune in that order. He thinks that The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy is the Great American Novel, and he considers Ponderosa 4 star dining.

Why this male has failed to evolve beyond adolescence is a mystery. Since these things are usually blamed on the mother, we could theorize that she couldn't bring herself to cut the apron strings and instead bound her offspring to her with fierce determination and a never ending supply of softdrinks, Doritos and MTV. Or, we could safely assume that he is simply lazy, immature, and shamelessly willing to take advantage of the guilt that kicking his freeloading ass out would cause his parents, who undoubtedly love him despite the fact that he is milking them dry and waiting around to inherit the old homestead which he can then sell to finance a move to Hollywood where he can pursue a record deal. But really, who knows?

What I do know, is that they can be found in shocking abundance on the World Wide Web. Ladies, take care that you do not fall prey to this wolf in sheep's clothing, or independant, well-adjusted adult's clothing, as the case may be. Know your enemy and gaurd yourself well. And above all, if you hear the phrase "I have a band" run screaming in the other direction as fast and as far as you possibly can.

(Dedicated to...well hell, you know who you are. And yes, you should repent, heavily. )


  • At 7:43 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    This 'missing link man' of which you speak is safely ensconced in his childhood bedroom in his parents' house, dutifully updating his webpage, downloading porn and playing Doom.

    He is out and wandering about. I think I met him last weekend at a bar.

    An eloquent musing on this fascinating yet disgusting breed. I enjoyed it very much.

  • At 7:59 PM, Blogger Kimberly said…

    I'm sure when he read this he peed just a little in his momma's underwear...that he happened to be wearing ;-)


  • At 1:08 AM, Blogger Mom101 said…

    This is so fantastic, except I think you just described Nate. Just a little.


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