And I Thought My Life Was Disproportionately Irritating…
Remy insisted that I read a story about a guy called AccordionGuy who had probably the most miserable experience with a woman ever in the history of the universe. You can read the story here, but if you’re lazy like me, I can summarize.
Basically, AccordionGuy met a super peachy-keen woman, but she turned out to be an identity thief (and not a very good one). He was warned, he questioned her, he caught her in a tangled web o’ lies, the end. It’s a pretty sad story, but there is a pretty decent moral:
“Dude,” said my old buddy George the following day, “you were saved by your blog!”It’s true. I posted a gushy entry about New Girl, someone saw it and came forward to tell me the truth. Maybe the Blogger or Moveable Type people should print up stickers and T-shirts that read BLOGS SAVE LIVES. I’d buy one.
Which leads me to a conclusion of my own: all my fear and paranoia (plus, all the stuff that would utterly humiliate me — and there’s a lot of it) about not putting the more personal aspects of my life onto this crazy blog o’ mine may actually hurt me more than it’d help.
As much as I like the coziness and the thin veil of anonymity in blogland, if I started going out with some sort of frightening identity thief (and the probability of that is high, knowing my luck and inability to attract women who are not either con artists of insane people), it’d be nice to be fairly warned from the blog community at large.
Then again, if I started writing more detailed accounts of the people I know and love, and they ever actually started snooping around the Internet and found this blog, they would tie me to a chair, shit in my mouth, and then murder me. And while getting murdered isn’t exactly the worst thing to happen, I’d at least want to go out with a non-shit-filled mouth.
Or, at the very least, a breath mint.
Posted by Stan on April 8, 2003 4:37 PM | Permalink | Stories of Pain and Humiliation | Digg It
Post a Comment
Powered by Ajax Comments