So, Sharaun bought me a bunch of new shirts recently. Y’know, the kind that all the “cool” guys wear? To me, they look like 70s relics for the most part, but apparently all the cool late-twenty-somethings are wearing them. She’s also stocked my hangers with some “cool” jeans, apparently defined by looking orangey-dirty and being a half-inch of flare away from bellbottoms. Now, I don’t profess to follow any fashion trends, or to even pay attention to such things, but when I wear these new clothes – I do feel nice. Somehow, be it the magic of haute couture or whatever, I actually feel a little cooler when I wear them. You can probably see it in my cocksure swagger – and read my thoughts on my face: “these clothes make me more socially acceptable.” All kidding aside, I am kinda glad that she buys me stuff in efforts to keep me hip. I mean, I’m not gonna be a presenter at the MTV whatever awards anytime soon – but I can almost pull them off without resultant hilarity.
The only problem with the cool clothes is the stark dichotomy between them and my usual accoutrements. (Yes, this is a thesaurus contest). This night-and-day effect almost always elicits some kind of comments from those who see me on a regular basis. Things like, “Dang Dave, why so dressed up?, ” and, “You clean up nice.” Not that these comments bug me, I guess I just get kinda shy under the focused attention. I’m mean, as you can probably tell by the way I keep a freakin’ journal on the internet for the world to read – I’m pretty coy. Who am I kidding… I’m the dumbass with the lampshade on his head. Regardless, it’s amazing what a few small comments and a change of clothes can do for your bravado.
So, really… I don’t know how I found it – but I’ve started reading someone else’s weblog, a random person I’ve never met, for that matter. Just the other day, I was waxing on about how I’m not the “typical” blog-reading, blog-writing, blog-eating-sleeping-drinking blogger… but it seems I was wrong, at least, a little bit. When you get mixed up in this lifestyle, it sucks you in man…
I put some awesome green floodlights on the graveyard last night, ones that are truly meant for outdoor use (the indoor ones I started with popped in the previous night’s rain). These are true 100W floods, not the piddly 40W low-voltage crap I was using before – so they really light the place up. Enough so that they cast an eerie green glow on the front of the house. The entire effect is really satisfying – the blacklight, moving, crank-ghost, the green-lit flying witch, and the shadowy-green house and graveyard. Can’t picture it?, check it out:
Anyway, one time I found this link on the intarweb – and I clicked it – and it took me to a pretty interesting, and definitely creepy page. By creepy, I mean worrisome – so why didn’t I just say “worrisome?,” I dunno. That link, the one I clicked a couple sentences ago, was this one. It talks about, and even coins a term for, a person getting fired from their job for content on their weblog. Now, I usually try to stay away from talking about work in much detail here, and I don’t even think I’ve really ever said what I do for a living (other than be awesome). But, just doing a quick mental search (binary, of course, because my brain is efficient and elegant) of my past entries – I think I probably have some “dooce” fodder on these pages.
Frequent pining for vacation, less-than shocking admissions that sometimes I don’t do anything, sordid tales of business trips to the Orient, all these things could probably be used as evidence against me. I really do think about things like that, y’know. Getting fired because I posted a picture I drew while in a customer meeting, something dumb like that. That’s why I’m generally leery about people at work knowing about this thing – even though I know there are some occasional readers, I try not to spread it around. Hopefully I’m non-specific enough that I’ll never have to worry about getting “dooced,” but man, that would suck. Hard.
Looking at other blogs, comparatively, I write a lot. I see a lot of one-sentence stuff out there. That’s cool I guess, but for some reason I don’t feel like I’m “writing” unless there’s a couple paragraphs. Granted, sometimes my “couple paragraphs” are just rambling – but it makes me feel better to see the words I guess.
Somehow, someone was referred to my blog by Googling “whale sounds in water pipes.” I swear, that’s what the stats say. Dave out.
Also written on this day...
- straining against california - 2018
- what doesn't make the cut - 2003