Blogspotlight #7: A plethora of life-changing blogs

It's been so long since I've been blogspotting that I almost forgot about my favorite internet pastime: typing random words to precede blogspot.com and finding people's random, mostly abandoned, blogs. I spent a shameful amount of time on this recently with delightful results:

*I'm Famous, You Are Not. Ah, I love this. If only it spanned more than the month of January in 2004. This guy is, supposedly, some kind of reality TV star (strange that such a thing exists) complaining about how horrible it is to be famous:

sometimes i hate being a celebrity. i'm famous. you are not. you have no idea what i have to go through. people like you, constantly harping on me when i'm in public. i wish i could go to the post office, but i can't. because of people like you. it's not my fault, either, that i'm famous, it's your fault.

The blog goes on to document a few sad, obnoxious run-ins with people who recognize this alleged celebrity:

been traveling a lot. wish i had a computer on the road. was on a ski lift last week in utah. somebody threw a snowball at me because i refused an autograph. its hard to sign something when you have big gloves on and nothing to sign.

Poor baby!

*This blog only has two puzzling entries: a strange cartoon of Schnappi, a possibly German crocodile, and some kind of abstract photoshopped picture of Avril Lavigne. That is all.

*Yes! A ten-year-old blogger who thinks he's going to be famous! The tagline of the epic one-entry blog, My Triple Threat Years:

Hi im Jesse miller im 10 years old and this is my adventure to my triple threat years.for those of you who dont know what that is its a mixture of acting, dancing and singing i want this and i have for 7 years im so exited to start read all about me

Unusual for a blogspotting find, this blog was started in 2011. Where are you, Jesse Miller? Update us on your "carere" please!

*Meet Jayme, a teenager posting about her love problems:

Monday, July 11, 2005
I love to hate
I hate this. I can't even stand looking at your face. I hate the things you say to me. I hate the promises you make. I'm far from perfect, but boy so are you. I don't know if I even wish for us to work. I just wish you were out of my life forever.

Two days later:

Wednesday, July 13, 2005
He's back
ahh I love him! He makes me feel so whole. Whenever I'm with him or just talking to him it makes me so happy. I feel like a little kid again with butterflies in my stomach as if he was my first crush. I don't know what happened with us there but it's all better now. Better than ever!

Ah, young love. Must say, don't miss that part of youth at all.


*THIS BLOG, CELEBRITY DREAMS, IS AMAZING. Someone calling themselves "Mercury Vague" (pronounced like "Prague"), described as a "re-knowned French psychic, emancipated thinker and dream interpreter interprets dreams about celebrities." Yes!! Examples of Mercury's responses:

Exploding bombs in dreams often refer to moving location/ moving houses and with the strong Scottish element I believe this means a move North. Be careful though because Rod Stewart in dreams is thought to be symbolic of decay, maybe dry rot.

A delightful dream with a clear reading. Seeing yourself as a detective indicates personal troubles ahead. Bald men, like Duncan Goodhew, are usually indicative of swindlers and chiselers.

A kangaroo means travel by aeroplane. A knife in a dream is a bad sign indicating grief in the future. Skippy usually is a sign of carefree happiness but this reading must be balanced by the extremely bad combination of symbols that is a knife wielding kangaroo. My advice to you would be to not travel by plane.

Amazing! Where are you, Mercury Vague? The celebrity dream posts stopped in 2007, but this intriguing post from October 2011 gives me hope that one day Mercury will make a comeback:

Tester12
Hygv vgvgb ggg hhh fffvfc vfvfcfc vfvfcf vv tggv fcfc fvgvv vggv gvv gvggvcgc hhyredy you bastard drew

*Okay, and this last one is seriously just rad. A lady working at a bar in DCA writes about all her celebrity spottings (mostly politicians) and more. She's been blogging since 2004 at scarlettohara.blogspot.com and her entries are fun to read.

Blogspotlight #6

Check it: some hand-fetishist dude's fab blogspot blog called Amazing Hands. He posts photos of big-handed, long-fingered female hands he finds sexy. In his words: "Huge Hands on a girl does not sound very attractive to most. Too bad they don't know what they are missing."

'Nuff said.

Blogspotlight #5

May I introduce to you Juicy Fruiter's blog named Juicy Fruiter, spanning years 2005-2008. Juicy Fruiter is very enthusiastic about his favorite kind of gum. Juicy Fruiter is a park ranger who posts about how mad it makes him when he catches people drinking in the park and how funny it is when he catches people having sex in parked cars. Juicy Fruiter chronicles his proposal, then cold feet, then eventual marriage, to the woman he calls Mrs. Juicy Fruiter. Juicy Fruiter is amazing.

Blogspotlight #4

I really enjoyed this one.

Blog name: Iamnothing.blogspot.com.
Number of entries: 6.
Dates: April-June 2001.

We begin with Kent, a narcissistic teen who describes a religion he's created called Kent-tholocism; a mysterious disease he thinks he is dying of; the drama of bleaching his hair and then dyeing it blue; why he watches COPS and how "the media fucking owns you." Brilliant.

But the fun doesn't end there -- about midway through his posts, his blog gets hijacked by his girlfriend. Her introduction:

“This is Jenny. Well, I did something that most of you would think is really fucking stupid and/or crazy. I joined the Navy. Yes, my ass belongs to the government for the next four years. The reasons I did this are too complicated to clutter Kent's blog, but basically I want to travel, make money, gain self-confidence, blah, blah, blah.

Tonight I went to Club Foot. It was boring. It was packed, the music was good, and I chatted a bit with my friend/bartender Roseanne, but it was boring. Too many happy fucking couples around me, making me sick of love and pissed off. People hugging and making out in front of my face, throwing it in my eyes. I always despised couples who made out in public. Get a fucking room, why doncthya'? I am trying to hide it, but I feel lonely inside. I bought the movie "Wonderland" the other day and watched it, and that one character, the single one, Nadia, reminds me a lot of myself. She's lonely too, and unsatisfied with her life.”

The Navy! Club Foot! The loneliness! You can't make this stuff up.

After that Jenny continues the blog for a couple entries. They buy a puppy. They have sex. They listen to The Smiths. Then the last entry comes back to Kent, the self-described "Golden-haired God." He describes his short-lived stint working at a butcher counter, and then the blog ends with his budding infatuation for a homeless girl who his parents adopted to clean his kitchen.

Hooray for Blogspotting.

Blogspotlight #2

In my random search through the decade-old public portholes into other people's minds, I found a four-entry blog written by a single woman who was trying to find herself after a solo trip to Sydney. The blog, titled Keystrokes: Musing of An Old Soul, begins:

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 03, 2002

21 august 2002

one cold morning

walking against the wind, one cold morning in Sydney, it suddenly hit me that wanted none of my old life back. then and there, i decided to live my life the way i truly wanted it to be. no more, i told myself. no more. still walking, i was starting to fill with with hope.

POSTED BY EVA AT 2:25 AM

Her next entry details an array of people who took her picture while she was there. This list intrigues me for many reasons that I'm way too lazy and coffee-deprived to elaborate on, but in short, I get a real sense of the obnoxiousness and loneliness of this character through her memories of the picture-takers:

Hence, before I forget, I'd like to thank all those people of varied nationalities who took my picture:

-the plus-sized looking girl who seemed to be a local and looked mighty pleased when I called her "Ma'am"
-the senior tourist who asked his wife to take my picture -- they look American;
-the window washer who looked Spanish at the State Library of New South Wales;
-the brisk-walking pretty blonde girl at The Gap--although she wasn't successful in all of her two tries;
-the dark, Latin looking couple who patiently took twice, and was unsuccessful, also at the Gap;
-the middle-aged guy with long bushy hair and shades and beard who took my photo and asked me to stand where the sun shines, so my face could be seen on the picture (at Watson's Bay);
-the Singaporean-Chinese looking single dad with a toddler whom he left on the bus while he went out to the Gap -- they started playing once he came back the bus;
-the pretty jogger in powder blue, who was kind and accommodating, even though I have interrupted her jogging;
and lastly,
-the Japanese girl who took my photo for the third time because, according to her--one of my eyes blinked.

And:

"Can you take my picture?" I asked one of the frisbee-throwing guys at Manly Beach.
"Take your camera?" They joked. But they took my picture anyway. And it's a good picture, too.
POSTED BY EVA AT 1:40 AM

After these two entries, our Blogger-blogger Eva goes back to work and becomes once again consumed with her own sense of hopelessness and loneliness, and loses her lust for her blog, abandoning it forever after only 9 days. Whatever happened to Eva? And -- the most important question of all: why, of all names for a humorless soul-searching blog, would Eva choose poopsie.blogspot.com as her url? The mysteries are endless.

Blogspotlight #1

My new favorite pastime is finding random people's blogspot pages by typing in whatevercomestomymind.blospot.com. Most of these random people's blogs were long abandoned back in 2000-2005, when blogspot was still cool. Most of these random people's blogs have no or very few entries, some merely hilariously titled, and most that I've stumbled on have actually never had any visitors.

Why is this so amazing? Because, it's an untapped goldmine of never-heard strangers' internal monologues. It's like an endless treasure trove of people's journal entries, of stories, of characters. I've been able to squander an embarrassing amount of hours on my new hobby.

As long as it lasts, I'm going to make an effort to share some of my favorite findings, putting these random strangers' abandoned blogs on the spotlight of my own not-so-important blogspot blog. Ultra meta n shit.

So the first random blogspot I would like to highlight is called The Pizza Guy Delivers, where Kenny, for 6 months and 10 short entries, detailed the horror of his job at a pizza joint. He's actually pretty damn funny. I loved this particular post -- it almost read like some edgy flash fiction piece -- but the fact it was true made it way creepier. And it reminded me to never, ever mistreat or irritate those strangers who assemble your takeout food:

Mark Rathko always says, "This is Mark Rathko," when he rings.

Like I'm waiting to hear from him. You know, like he's some fucking preferred customer and I give a shit more about his order than I do for any of the other asses who ring me up. You know, drop everything! Mark Rathko's on the line! Christ.

I call him Mark Rathko. Not sir or Mark or Mr. Rathko. Solamente Mark Rathko.

He's a dick.

Mark Rathko called back to add anchovies to his medium deep crust. "Mark Rathko again." He told me to be generous with them, and I was like, "For you, Mark Rathko, anchovies are free!"

I got to thinking about what I could do to him because he's such a cock, when I remembered that we share an alley with the strip mall behind us and that there's a pet store in that strip mall. I remembered they have a special, little bin out back for their dead animals. Some truck always comes by at the end of the day with a big tube and sucks them out.

I told Jerry I was going to the Burger King to take a dump (our toilet's not working), but really I went over with an extra-large cup and sauce ladel and had a look in that bin.

I've seen guys eat snakes and shit before, but I don't know anyone who's eaten three angelfish, some of those minnows that are neon and one of those goldfish with the big fucked-up eyes like Mark Rathko's just done.

Amazing. I can't help but wonder who this mysterious pizza dude named Kenny is -- namely, what kind of person says, casually, that he has seen other people eat snakes and shit before? And what happened to him in the following seven years, how did the job end, where he is now? I hope he's moved on from any career involving food preparation.

Many more blogspotlight posts to come -- I have an arsenal of bookmarks I can't wait to share, including a one-entry blog some high school girl made all about her hair.