Right. I am a blog lurker. Mostly.
I started reading random blogs in college, but I really came into the blog world when I started working an incredibly shitty job all by myself for nine hours a day (didn’t get to leave for lunch because I was always alone) in a ghetto used CD/DVD/Video Game store for three-and-a-half years. All the work would be done in two or three hours, minus the customer service bit, of course. And obviously there were never many customers as they only kept one fucking employee (not that I’m bitter).
Right. So for six days a week over three years I spent a lot of time in a large moldy, mostly empty store.
With the Internet. God. The Internet is so fucking cool. If I brought a book, when a customer would walk in, the first thing I’d get was some dumbass comment about “workin real hard.”
But if I’m on the Internet, it appears as if I am working.
But the problem is I don’t know what to do with myself and the Internet for so long a time. Celebrity news is not interesting; I left the store TV on news channels all day; porn’s use does me no good in a large building with a glass wall; and anything that required audio was no good as I had to keep music playing throughout the store all day long. So I started finding blogs, and I’ve kept up with most of my favourites.
But the thing is I rarely comment. And if I do comment, I usually forget to go back and see if anyone replied to my comment (luckily email notifications help).
What’s interesting about most of the blogs I read is how I probably wouldn’t get along with the writers in real life. I love the writing, the stories, but I doubt that we could get past an initial first awkward meeting.
A month-ish ago, reading my twitter feed while Ben browsed the hipster music store in downtown Knoxville I realized one of my favourite bloggers was in my town. And not just in my town, but in the same area of my town that I was currently wandering around in and killing time. When I told Ben, he asked if I wanted to contact her and see if she wanted to get a drink.
Wait. No. I don’t think I want to. I thing she’d annoy the piss out of me if I actually talk to
her and I love her blog too much to want to ruin it that way.”
And that makes me sad. I would love to meet with these people whose writing I enjoy and who’s lives I have been watching (reading?) for years. Some of them I have seen go from being single to having children with a spouse. I’m invested. I’m curious in a strange voyeuristic way. I want to know all about them, but only at a distance. It’s very bizarre.
On the other hand, there are a few whom I would LOVE to meet and hang out with in real life. I think we’d get along well; my brashness and [incredibly] foul mouth wouldn’t upset them; etc. etc. etc..
One of those few is Brittany from Barefoot Foodie. I found her blog-hopping one day and thought her then-tagline of “not a food blog, just me being a dick” was hilarious. On paper (screen?) she seems like the kind of blogger I wouldn’t want to meet: a Mommy who sometimes writes about being insecure. I adore her.
The woman is fucking hilarious. And honest. And she loves wine! And seems like an incredibly awesome person that I would love to hang out with in the real world. And today, after laughing out loud at another one of her posts and reading it aloud to the rock star while he made coffee, I thought I’d share her. Because the more people who read this woman the better (not that she needs help; she’s quite successful all by herself). She can nearly always improve my day.