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Saturday · April 24 2004

This main column here has been lacking personal herbs and spices. I'm aware, but unless some of you go away and say it's okay to talk about you, what do I do?

If we count up the people I know who are not potential readers of this page, we get…my mom. And even my mom might discover the Internet one day and find what I've been dishing on her. She's going to be hurt and ask how I could embarrass her like this. I'll hear about it for the next 15 years, and considering the backlog of minor transgressions she likes to redredge, I don't need to add another. Future me says the guilt is too much.

My cats can't read, so I could talk about them (Pixie has been a whiny pain in the ass, lately), but rule #3 about personal web sites is “You can write about pets, but who reads that?”

Babies are a popular topic. All the cool kids are blogging babies. I don't have one of these and the ramp up time is 9 months minimum, no arguing. Even if I could order a kid from with Super Saver Shipping, I'd hesitate. I lack the proper temperment for tending to disagreeable infants. For example: The cats vie for my attention by racing in front of the TV. I can't see the upcoming turn on the Barcelona track in Project Gotham Racing, crash into the barrier, and lose the race. I scream, “God damn it”, pause the game, and flip the laundry basket on em. This “kittie jail” technique used on my child will get me on an episode of Cops. If Amazon offers a 30 day return policy, I may reconsider.

Jobs. Hmm. We know about rules #1 and #2 of personal web sites. People get fired. People get sued. And who is to blame for these tragedies? Lurking co-workers. There's a guy who reads your site every week, but doesn't tell you…until you make a boo-boo. It's not your boss. Bosses don't have time to read employee's weblogs, let alone know what a weblog is. HR? You don't exist unless you're on the watch list for hogging bandwith via Kazaa or Fleshbot. It's the people in your neighborhood who you have to worry about. It's the girl two cubes over who caught you staring at her breasts in the elevator. You know because she walks around with her hands folded across her chest now. She heard from the other guy you have a website and now she's waiting.

Right…rules #1 and #2. Got carried away.

Story topic submissions welcome.

What you had to say:
April 25 2004

People don't talk about baby's jobs nearly enough. You know ... jobs for babies.
Also, could you send me the rulebook? I want to make sure I'm not breaking the secret code.

April 25 2004

I find it more fun to make up the rules as I go. So far I only have 3.

A baby's primary job is eating, sleeping, and shitting. That seems to keep em pretty well occupied 24/7. Doubt they could fit even a part time gig into that schedule.

© 2004 Jason Keglovitz