My visitor numbers have recently spiked pretty drastically. They are all going to one post- which I wrote after someone tagged me with a picture that said something to the effect of "This requires a Facebook Gold Account to view."
Rather than ask the person who tagged me what was up, I googled "Facebook Gold Account" frantically. Nothing of substance came up. I still didn't ask the person who tagged me in the suspect photo. Mostly, I didn't want to appear behind the times. Instead, I took to my blog in a "WTF???" post.
Since then the post has been edited to say, "EDIT: Just an elaborate hoax. No jumping sharks here."
It is my (tiny) contribution to the internets, I suppose. I felt like the hoax should have been over the second I knew the truth, but it seems as though most people are being secretive about this. After all, my post is the only relevant item in the first page of Google Searches.
What is the point, anyway, of creating a Facebook hoax? It caused me confusion, wondering when I had ever danced in front of a camera as the caption indicated. I even blogged about the wonder. But that was it. I didn't delete my facebook account, I didn't wonder for hours on end, and I didn't untag myself from the picture. When it was explained by the person who tagged me, she seemed almost embarrassed she had done it. So what's the point?
[Edit: What made my curiosity go away? My friend admitted that she just created an album full of "This requires a Facebook Gold Account to view" pictures and tagged a bunch of people. Hoax.]
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Rewrites and other business I attend to
Okay, so I wrote a novel type thing back in November. Awesome, right? After not writing any kind of fiction for more than half a decade, I bite the bullet and go all out.
And then it sits. And sits. Nothing gets done to this novel. It sits in Google Docs, with, untampered with. I had novel guilt -- the guilt that goes with an un-rewritten novel that is mediocre.
Until yesterday. Yesterday I opened a new Google Doc. Began typing. A new beginning to a story that already has two beginnings. Clearly not what I was supposed to do, but the main characters were intact, at a party with loud music. There were no parties in the original novel. There are no cupcakes in this new beginning (or any other beginning).
I don't know how to feel about this. I am still not looking at the massive text I wrote in November, yet this feels like progress. Maybe there will be more progress.
In other news, quitting the apartment building job has been great. Last night I went to sleep at 9:30 and woke up feeling well rested.
And tomorrow is my birthday! Excellent for me.
And then it sits. And sits. Nothing gets done to this novel. It sits in Google Docs, with, untampered with. I had novel guilt -- the guilt that goes with an un-rewritten novel that is mediocre.
Until yesterday. Yesterday I opened a new Google Doc. Began typing. A new beginning to a story that already has two beginnings. Clearly not what I was supposed to do, but the main characters were intact, at a party with loud music. There were no parties in the original novel. There are no cupcakes in this new beginning (or any other beginning).
I don't know how to feel about this. I am still not looking at the massive text I wrote in November, yet this feels like progress. Maybe there will be more progress.
In other news, quitting the apartment building job has been great. Last night I went to sleep at 9:30 and woke up feeling well rested.
And tomorrow is my birthday! Excellent for me.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Superbowl: it was never about the game
I wonder how television got so lucky as to have a time period where everyone watches just to see advertising.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Superbowl Nostalgia: Who remembers the sport?
All of my memories are either commercial related (see above) or nipple slip related (see below). This day is not about sports. It is about booze, food, and capitalism. And that is still pretty awesome.
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