A Day in the Life of a BloggerJanuary 19, 2010
AFK temporarily. Here’s a blast from the past. (Originally published May 8, 2009.)
8:07 am – Shortly after arriving at work, a co-worker says something particularly inane. You say to yourself, (or so you think) “That’s going in the blog, douche.”
Your co-worker asks, “What did you say?” You cover quickly, “I said I have a lot of work. To do. Over where…I do my work. Douche.”
Good save! Publish.
9:19 am – You decide to play chicken with the economy by writing a long diatribe on the inept management at your thinly disguised company.
I work for a large and evil software corporation whose products are nearly as omnipresent as Windows on houses.
10:01 am – First break. The local food jobber’s circular contains some extraneous quotation marks. You mercilessly point this out.
11:13 am – While theoretically working, you stumble across a Jesse McCartney fan site curated by a 12-year old girl. You rip the site creator to shreds in the comments, questioning their intelligence, correcting their grammar and suggesting her parents needed a better brand of birth control.
You then head to your blog to add a post ripping the site creator to shreds, questioning their intelligence and speculating on her family tree. You add a link to your post connecting you back to your original incisive comments.
12:31 pm – You read an article in the local newspaper about a horrific case of child abuse. You figure if anyone can find the “funny” in this story, you can. Too soon?
1:45 pm– You run across a great article on HuffPo. You add a couple of sentences and drop in a few F-bombs.
2:30 pm – You duck out of work early and head to the mall. You score a new hat.
3:12 pm – Some junk mail arrives with your name misspelled.
3:16 pm – Your electric bill has gone up for the second straight month! You rant about the electric company, their founders, the current political climate, the “man” in general and question the sexual orientation of all involved.
3:56 pm– You give an online phisher some key bank account information with the hopes that this will turn into a long series of investigative posts and prepare to go all Internet Batman on their asses.
Stay tuned! Publish.
4:41 pm– Even though a million bloggers have written a million words on the RIAA’s rampant jackassery, you see no reason it shouldn’t be 1,000,927.
5:17 pm – During your court-ordered stint with the Boys and Girls Club, some teenagers make some cutting remarks about your archaic slang and mock your love of 90’s alternative rock. Now you know what’s wrong with today’s youth. Everything!
Fuck me gently with a chainsaw! Publish.
6:11 pm – You make a particularly cutting remark to your (soon to be ex) girlfriend about her choice of outerwear. Her reaction is priceless.
7:01 pm– Your evening plans of whiskey and XBox are interrupted by a bicycle-riding door-to-door religion salesman. After a scintillating conversation, wherein you agree to disagree, you barricade the door and blog about the many problems with organized religion.
Your post? Praying to solve a problem is only slightly less useless than blogging about it.
8:03 pm– In a shameless effort to grab page views, you begin randomly tagging your posts with these selections: fake boobs, real boobs, fuck you, octomom, personal lubrication, Susan Boyle, mp3, Paris Hilton, Perez Hilton, free money, Nickelback sucks, conficker, swine flu, naked photos and Humor.
Your posts, of course, contain none of these things.
9:29 pm – While cutting through the park on the way to your weed dealer, you come across three dogs going at it in a way that would embarrass German porn stars. After three or four bong hits, you find a way to connect it to an otherwise uneventful day at work.
Dog eat dog eat dog! Publish.
10:17 pm– After drinking alone for several hours, you consider drunk-dialing your estranged girlfriend. Instead you decide to go all Charles Bukowski and rant semi-poetically about what bullshit relationships are. Chicks only dig assholes.
Fuck spellcheck! Publish.
11:30 pm – Buzzed up and hungry, you head to the local convenience store for some snacks. Your bank card is turned down and the clerk seems distracted by muffled yells originating from the stockroom. You return home empty-stomached and angry.
The bank will hear about this in the morning, but the Internet will hear about it tonight!
12:08 am– Having exhausted any good ideas, you bang out a hyperbolic rundown of the day’s events and shove it into the blogosphere. After hitting F5 on the Dashboard a few times, you head to bed.