I'll Follow You Into The Dark

I went looking for the John Denver song. The Bambi video was just BONUS. You're welcome, Readership.

It's Billy Madison on TBS season again, folks, and MetaBlog will be back in action with what is sure to be great material. Our inside look at the B-School via Mike's dual degree has already offered up some great Gossip Girl-like "Spotted" material. Over at the LBJ School, the First Years are apparently "voting on their class name". (They obviously don't realize that KZ just dictatorially imposed "Wolfpack" on all of us last year with her crazy eyes. #tyranny) And the Social Workers have spent the summer gettin naked in my backyard.

With all this ground to cover, and a whole new class of people to entertain/annoy, MetaBlog needs a new medium. Also, MetaBlog (having lost It-Blog allisongettingmarried.tumblr.com to the cruel passage of time) has a new, annointed blog-darling:

VioletCrownFC's Twitter Account. New Bestie of the Moment Grant (who hasn't yet realized I change Besties like I change my underwear....about once a fortnight) has started a Twitter for the boys' soccer team, and even tricked a few important people into following him. Clearly MetaBlog is the mark of approval 'round here - and Grant/@VCFC - you've got mine.

Baby it's cold inside....

My mom should never delegate Craigslist postings to me, particularly not when I'm under the constant influence of paint fumes, six beers, and #replacementbestie Jordan "Corny Dad Jokes" Hills.

Jordan: "It's called marketing, Bobbi. I took a business class."

http://austin.craigslist.org/app/2506900351.html

Let's just say this was the most reasonable draft, circa midnight last night.

ALLISON GOT MARRIED

Several weeks ago we gathered friends and family in Birmingham so that Mark Zuckerberg could pronounce Allison Lenore Bramlett and Gary Mitchell London Jr. married on Facebook.

And as is the circle of life, with new beginnings come endings, and thus we are here to honor the death of Metablog's favorite blog, allisongettingmarried.tumblr.com. Unbeknownst to the happy couple, we live twatted the whole wedding weekend. I have been waiting to share the transcript until they returned from their six month long honeymoon, mostly so that Mitchell had the option to call me and tell me to immediately remove the post about Joe telling Keith's girlfriend that he absolutely could afford her.

It also took me the entirety of their honeymoon to learn how to take a screen shot (see! above!), but also I learned how to freeze panes in Excel so basically that makes it the most productive 3 weeks I've had since Institute.

Therefore, without further ado, in memoriam to my favorite blog, the farewell post: AllisonGotMarried.metablog.com.

Friday at 5:30pm, Joe asks Keith's girlfriend if she has ever danced naked.

Friday at 5:31pm, Joe asks Keith's girlfriend what her rate is.

Friday at 5:32pm, Joe responds "I really doubt that" when Keith's girlfriend tells Joe he couldn't afford her.

Friday at 9:40 pm

JLo: I mean @sarahswanson you're awesome, but...we'll see.

Friday at midnight

PeteLongworth: @everyone get in the impromptu photobooth

Everyone: @Keith and @Synthia have been practicing this in their living room...

Denver: @Pete So do you always shoot on Nokia?

Saturday:

Denver: @mattyb I've had 1 5hr enrgy b4 this wk, had 7 in last 48 hrs

MattyB: @Denver there is such a thing as too much

Denver: I'm somehow nervous and afraid of falling asleep while standing beside this altar. Taking comfort in the 4 tiny whiskey bottles lining my tux coat.

Emily: @NewLondon yerbeautifulyerbeautifulyerbeautifulyerbeautiful!

Everyone: ditto.

7:45 at Park Lane

the_real_morety: @Nowitzness Joe just told this 50 year old woman he wanted to see her naked..it's only 7:45

MoMoPalmer: @Emily @Nat @ Megz Let's have a diva dance off and also I win

Emily: Balloon grab, RELEASE!

Emily: @EmilysThighs plz don't give out on me during this dance move
EmilysThighs: @Emily no way dude yer going down
Emily: @EmilysThighs why do you have yer own twitter acct?

9:48 PM Saturday Night at Park Lane

Nowitzness: @matttyB I've had 5 drinks and don't feel a thing. I just can't get drunk the 2nd night of a back-to-back!

MatttyB: @Nowitzness Me too!!! Let's go get 3 more!

JLo: @C# we have 25 minutes to buy beer for the after party

C#: K lets go

JLo: Nope I'm too drunk, you go

11:00 at the Liquor Store

C#: @evesfriendCami load up another 8 twelve packs into the cart

NiceLady: Hi, @evesfriendcami

Eve'sfriendCami: @C# that was one of my students parents

C#:@evesfriendcami don't worry, what is SHE doing at the liquor store?

11:30 at Jackson's Saturday Night

Bartenderobnoxious: @Nowitzness you want 6 drinks? I need to see an ID for each one

(after complying with his request and returning 5 minutes later for 6 more drinks)

Bartenderobnoxious: @Nowitzness did you just go outside and give those drinks to people?

Nowitzness: @bartenderobnoxious yes and I brought 6 new ID's for this round!

LOVE IS. IS WHAT I GOT. LOVE IS. IS WHAT I GOT.

Acapellagroup: Wait whats the next verse?

Everyone: ......

Acapellagroup: ok. LOVE IS. IS WHAT I GOT.

Matttyb: @C# I think that D and K are getting together!!

C#: @Matttyb Honey if that hurts your feelings, you probably deserve it.

Matttyb: Oh, ok.

12:15 at the aLoft Saturday Night

Emily: @LLeahy everyone's going to room 408
LLheahy: @Emily no fucking way

Nowitzness: Where did that 6 foot tall asian woman come from?

Everyone_at_aLoft: James, that's a hooker... don't ask questions

Denver: T bringing a hooker to a wedding is either testing my unqualified support for bold moves, or affirming it. At the moment I'm too drunk to tell.

Sunday...

Denver:@ellensmommeg Yeah it was crazy they brought like 300 beers into the lobby of the hotel

ellensmommeg: @Denver You drank 300 beers...?

Denver: @ellensmommeg No. But I tried.

3:19 AM Monday Morning

MatttyB: @Nowitzness after the show it's the after party and after the wedding it's the sunday night party, we've been drinking belveder, we've been drinking cristal... I just went swimming... why did you leave?

The Internet is REAL

Sam says I'm not allowed to blog about my Stranger anymore because in her professional opinion my Stranger is someone who at the very least has seen that I'm a young person with a social lifestyle (#Compound) and at most has BEEN TO OUR HOUSE. So with that encouraging thought I have to return to blogging about my friends' appearances on the Internet*.

We have all seen the hilarious misunderstandings of people (read: conservatives) that think The Onion is real brought to us by James posting http://literallyunbelievable.org/.

But I am here to tell you that THE ONION IS REAL. Proven by this article about Metablog Number One Fan Trent Redden, whose second job is Scout for the Cavs.

http://www.onionsportsnetwork.com/articles/report-kevin-durants-success-could-lead-to-more-nb,20504/

Also, The Onion ran this article about Austin Woody and his fiance.

*A throwback term for the googletubes

One Day We Will Laugh About This Over Tea

Today, in Real Life things that happen in Real Life and not on the internet – a Mystery.

Last night after playing soccer with Jordan and Mike (which consisted largely of them impersonating what Wes thinks is a “header”), Jordan and I walked home and found a letter on my car, in a large Business Reply envelope, with the words, “please read me, stranger” scripted on the outside.

Now, as a girl that has experienced her fair share of Crazy, and once treated flowers on my doorstep like they were a bomb that needed diffusing, I do not react well to letters left on my car. Unless it’s the parking lot of Canyon High School and your name is Dan Orth. Well, I didn’t really react well to those either. Anyway – we go into the house to read the attached note, addressed to me as “Stranger” (capitalized consistently throughout, which makes me reconsider Dan’s criticism of my habit of Arbitrarily Capitalizing Words as an indication of crazy) from someone who is “writing out of desperation” to no one in particular, in an effort to reach out.

Highlights include, but are not limited to: “ I want to know your story, dear Stranger. I want to know your past transgressions, your broken hearts, your noble acts. I wish there was a way to correspond more directly. For now, dropped letters will have to do. I have such love for you, my Stranger, such sincere affection. You’re saving me in a way. Your simple act of reading my letter is instilling in me a small and flickering hope that maybe one day we can laugh about this over tea.”

“I love you, Stranger. In my own way I really do. I hope you feel something similar for me. Until Next Time, Your Stranger.”

Now.

Hmm.

Our first reaction to this was for me, Jordan and Mary to sit around like a remade, culturally diverse set of Boxcar Children at the beginning of a Summer Mystery Adventure using our respective skill sets (Mary diagnosing the person’s mental state, me immediately pulling up Gawker to see if this a Trend, Jordan offering to hook up with the Stranger if she was hot).

But then later, at Flying Saucer, Jordan and I asked our Beer Goddess what she thought of it – and her first suggestion (“notify the police immediately”) made us realize we may not be taking this seriously enough. And that Jordan’s idea, to leave a single red rose on my car windshield, may not be the best way to engage with this person.

So I did the only thing I could do. Took the letter to work, scanned it in, and blogged about it. Wait. Shit. I left the original in the copier.

PS Rick – the fact that my front door doesn’t actually lock just got triaged to the top of your list.

You MADD

As some of you may know, Perfect Roommate Kaitlin Marie Harrigan has left The Compound for a new life in New York. And I can't imagine anyone that could possibly be as generous, good with kindling, and hysterical to replace her. And so begins my manipulative Campaign To Live Alone.

This means I must come up with an alternative funding scheme for the second half of rent. Most recently, I thought to ask Mothers Against Drunk Driving to sponsor the second room in my house, such that there always be a safe alternative to driving home from one of our parties. This isn't actually a terrible idea, except for the fact that it might be a bit too specifically targeted as a marketing campaign and as Grant pointed out yesterday, the Mothers against drunk driving are "all f**king c**ts". So we toasted the death of the idea with a few more beers, then drove home.

BUT THEN, TODAY, I thought to myself, I thought: "which mothers have the most vested interest in this specific marketing campaign?"

Your mothers.

Check your mail, Mrs. Tesfay, Hills, Rivers, and Leffler. You'll be receiving an incredible offer* to sponsor your son's place in a time-share B&B in Central Austin, with a guarantee from me that he will never drive home drunk.

*And a retroactive invoice for time spent on The Compound, sleeping or otherwise, in the past year.

Chic Camping

As we haven’t had a visit from the Austin Police Department in about 3 days, it’s time for the Compound to have another party! Specifically, for Hot Mary’s birthday. I went to the cottage last night to help in party planning, which is something that one would expect would be easy, given that I attend a premier Acting school and Mary attends a premier Listening school.

Unfortunately, other forces intervened. Specifically, as Mary self-diagnosed the other day in regards to a whole manner of things: “The thing about me is, I’ve lived in California all my life.”

Now, Mary had told me the other day that she wants a “beach party” theme for her birthday. In trying to more specifically peg that down, I asked, innocently “like..a Luau?”.

Mary looked at me with as much disgust as if I’d suggested a fetus party. Hereafter that look, (60% disgust and 40% fear that I might be serious), will be denoted with an ellipsis.

Mary: So, I want, maybe, beach balls everywhere, and some lanterns, and some pink flamingos.
Me: ok, well here are some flamingos on Oriental Trading. And palm trees. Do you want palm trees?
Mary: …
Mary: no, too luau.
Me: Maybe I’m not understanding your vision of what kind of beach this is.
Mary: You know, like, chic camping.
(At which point it is my turn to give the ellipsis look)…
Mary: Like, the VIP camping section at Coachella.
Me: That’s not a thing. That’s not a real thing.
Me: Fine. (randomly calling out the supplies I’m finding on Oriental Trading) Ooh! They have religious kites!
Mary: …
Mary: why would we want religious kites?
Me: why WOULDN’T we want religious kites? They say “Praise the Lord” among other messages of hope. And they’re only $13 for a dozen.
Mary:… we’ll put those in the “maybe” column.

Enter Katy Z, stage left (aka gchat)
Me: We’re planning a beach party.
Katy Z: ooh! Can I wear my coconut bra?
Me: NO. It’s specifically NOT a LUAU.
Katy: Well, can I wear a Florida shirt with zinc oxide on my nose?
Mary: No, no Florida.
Me: Well, then how are we supposed to be in theme?
Mary: It’s not really a theme, it’ s just how we’re decorating.
Katy: Ok, so like, Hamptons? Can I wear a big hat?
Mary: Well, I already had a hat party. (…) So she can wear a hat. But, I won’t be wearing one.

Me: Ooh! They have “design your own kites”!
Mary: …
Me: That way they can be religious, you know, if people wanted…or not.

Anyway, I left the cottage charged with the task of making a Facebook invite for a party I don’t fully understand, because I don’t understand any party that wouldn’t enjoy a “design-your-own-kite” station. All I really know is that we’re on a beach, camping, except the kind of camping where indie bands show up to your VIP port-a-potty, and we’re not in Hawaii, and we’re not Saved By the Bell’s beach house episodes, and we’re not in Florida, and we’re not wearing hats. But we are celebrating the Compound’s most fabulous resident, and there will be beer, and I sincerely doubt Katy Z or Mary will be wearing anything that resembles a shirt. So mark your calendars.

Landamlett Wedding Necessity

Photo Submitted by Garrett Haake.

Someone set up a skype booth of Russ singing Keith's 2003 hit album, "Feelings" or whatever it was called.

Blog, Counter-blog

Hot blog http://allisongettingmarried.tumblr.com/ is stepping up its game and needs your ideas to plan a wedding, which Mitchell just started doing evidently. All of the dream features listed and submitted could come true! Including,

# 10. Free bitch slaps from Caitlin, well known to be the World's Least Friendly Human Being.

Y'all know where to send your REAL ideas.

Allison Getting Married!!!! Like, soon.

I woke up this weekend in a panic. I have SO MUCH TO DO before the Landamlett wedding, 3 weeks hence. I have precious little time to buy new Wayfarers, feed vicious rumors about myself into the Mountainbrook parent gossip circle, and write a toast about Mitchell.

But the panic was also paired with a preemptive sense of loss (see: In Memoriam, coming soon) for the blog that has given us so much joy - allisongettingmarried. Because once she does, it will become incorrect tense. And we will lose it forever.

Which got me to thinking. Has anyone else felt that Mitchell's G-Rated limitations* on allisongettingmarried have kept it from reaching its full potential? Are there often questions you'd like to ask and photos you'd like to submit that are shunned by his Puritanical editorial eye?

Then you've come to the right place. Metablog is the home for your PG (SCANDAL) ideas of all things allisongettingmarried could be. And yes, Mitchell, this is how I beat you for fellowships. I took your ideas and slutted them up.

Some ideas for the adult version of allisongettingmarried:

1. A single person match generator, in which two people are randomly paired for hook ups at the wedding. Like a pre-fixed game of Spin The Bottle. Except, the only possible combination is Matty and Denver.

2. A place to post all the lines you've crossed out in red on your toast draft, your sense of good taste having won out. Like how I won't talk about the time I made Allison attend a bachelorette sex toy party with me, and I know what she bought.***

3. A virtual tour of the reception hall, filmed with Keith having sex in each room. From the first-person-point-of-view of the Ringbearer's helmet cam.

Submit your ideas here!

*in bed **

**heyO

***nothing, see first Coda.

Standing Outside The Fire

Things were pretty bleak for a while, there, Blogosphere. The complete and utter destruction of my computer in an incident we will call, non-ironically, Watergate. The complete and utter destruction of my soul by Public Financial Management. The guy from Cali Swag was murdered, never to impart the knowledge of how to Dougie again. We’ll just have to go back to paying for milkshake lessons.

But life, Blogosphere, is not tried if it is merely survived.

So now, better, stronger, Macbook Airier*, I have no choice but to listen to the signs the Universe is sending:

1. Google sent me a $100 gift card to spend on advertising, that I would keep blogging. This is a real thing. More on this later.

2. Metablog’s Biggest Fan Trent came to visit under the auspices of “work”, but really to figure out why Fake Trent (Mike) had failed to keep me on the blogwagon.

3. With her Farewell Spectacular looming, someone must fill the void left by Oprah (that is, the sliver of the void still unfilled by her cable network).

4. While there hasn’t been much to report about life on The Compound except that we got two cats and our water pressure has been inconsistent, at best – much in the larger world has gone unreported. So many names have been Not-Names, so many things Hot Mary has worn have been Not-Shirts, and Wes has learned about so many foods that are Not-Whataburger. (“What is this, a giant onion?” “No, Wes. It’s a melon.”)

5. People have gotten entirely too comfortable saying dipshit things around me (see above), thinking it won’t be broadcast to the world.

6. Dan called me irrelevant. And now he will pay.

So lawyer up, Blogosphere, and roll that montage sequence of me learning to Blog again.

*we’ll give Kelly Sharp a six year time out to recover from this latest injustice. Although given that she is probably reading this post on her iPhone4, we will reduce that to six minutes to get over it.

If You Can't Beat 'Em - Join 'Em.

And then beat 'em.

Farewell, Blogosphere.

He's more an Atari...

Dear Farmer Dan,

I'm not so much a Robocop as I am a Gold Digger.

Which is why, demonstrably, this never would have worked between us.

Benevolently, I wish you all the best with Samantha, or any other woman who is less shocked to discover that you graduated from college in the year 2009.

Lots of love anyway, and please do get in touch if you ever need career advice or a guarantor on your next lease.


Kelly

FARMER DAN RESPONDS!

Thank you for your wonderful submissions. They all made me laugh and for that, you will always have a special place in my heart.

I thought about writing real letters, but decided that it would be impossible to survive the wait, and no one in their right mind would pay an exorbitant amount of money to have a letter tracked by the postal service. Right?

Judith, Katie, and Kelly:
I have good news and bad news. The good news is, despite my slow response, I still like you girls. The bad news is I don’t really like like you girls. See, I've met you (Kelly you don't count as knowing Caitlin is enough of a red-flag) - and thus it is far easier to put Samantha on a far-away and indestructible pedestal.

Judith,
I know you’re probably thinking, “This blog is stupid. Why am I even looking at it? And I wrote a submission for Jeff Goldblum, not you, idiot.”

It is quite obvious that your persistence in voting for Jeff Goldblum instead of me, and your decision to buck the trend and write a submission for an old, semi-famous guy who will never know your name instead of someone who actually exists in your life is really nothing more than a brilliant plan to devalue my worth to better your own chances. I get it.

A few words about your submission: I’m actually 6’4’’ just like Jeff Goldblum (that last part should be pronounced like “plum,” but with a “b”… obviously not a name), and plenty of people have had successful lives despite not getting a role as the drunk party-going extra in Annie Hall:

Not bad, huh? These three gentlemen account for a Nobel Peace Prize, 11 Grammys, and a Sixth Man of the Year Award. The point is, I may be broke as a joke right now, but I’m working on that. Jeff Goldblum’s biggest accomplishment is Jurassic Park. That’s pretty impressive, but I’d rather shoot for a Nobel Peace Prize, 11 Grammys, and/or a Sixth Man of the Year Award.
Your plan was clever, but you didn’t come correct. You don’t have to lie about your feelings, and you certainly shouldn’t try to make me look like a scrub to better your odds. That’s just weak, Judith. (But you still have bangs… call me? Don’t tell Samantha.)

Katie,
I watched your video but I didn’t really understand it because I happen to be of the male persuasion. Also, those cards sort of make things romantic for a little while, but the more I thought about it, your speech impairment could be an issue. I mean, we could sit around writing on poster board all day in order to communicate, but the number of trees that would have to die for that to become a reality is more than I can stand. And I like being able to sleep at night with a clear conscience. That being said, you’re a pot of chili and a sheet of chocolate chip cookies away from getting a ring on it. For real.

Kelly,
What happened to you? For the readers who weren’t around, Kelly had a dramatic fall from grace in which she started criticizing me for my age, not calling her at a phone number I don’t have, and then began talking (to no one in particular) about her job, lunch, a dog and other nonsensical babble before screaming something about not needing me (yeah, right) and fleeing the (chat)room. You have established yourself as a Robocop.

Furthermore, as funny as wearing the recycling turns out to be in a blog, at the end of the day, you’re just wearing trash. There is a distinction when you’re putting recycling and trash into their respective bins, but when you are draping all of that stuff on your body… honey, then it’s all just trash. I guess Caitlin didn’t tell you, but you have to be first day of school fresh, everyday. Cardigans, jackets with elbow pads, horn-rimmed glasses and boots can help keep you fresh. Tin cans and wine bottles cannot.

I hope you find peace with your internet links, art trolley, and second apartment. Do yourself a favor and have the walls padded. And don’t come within two states of me. #nutcase

Samantha,
You extended a difficult challenge and I’m not entirely sure that I can measure up. I’m only 6’4’’. It’s possible that I’m not worthy of your Tuesday lunches because I have no idea what that entails. My dance moves are okay, but when “Teach Me How to Dougie” becomes old news, so will my act. Basically, the one thing I have going for me is that I’m Caitlin’s second prettiest friend (until Elsa gets engaged or lets herself go, in which case I’ll take the crown).

I’m not entirely sure what that does for you, but it can’t hurt, right?

In the meantime, I’d like to get to know you, to better understand your demands and to train myself to meet every last one. If you have a place for a tired farmhand to rest his head (your bedroom? I mean that in a good way), I’ll begin riding my bike in your direction before sunrise tomorrow.

Your farmhand,

Farmer Dan

How does she do it?

Many of you have been wondering - how is it that Caitlin gets people to participate in this nonsense?

For that matter, you might be asking yourself: how is it that Caitlin gets me to read this Blog everyday day despite the fact that I'm "ashamed to be a part of this", she's "completely full of herself" and MetaBlog is "completely out of control"?

Good question, readership, given that the last I checked I wasn't holding a gun to any of your heads.

The answer lies in my very practiced (not-so) subtle art of Withholding Approval Until I Get My Way. Just ask everyone involved in the Ski Boat Tantrum of 2010 (the fruit of which you can all enjoy as the weather gets warmer).

It can be quite a powerful, productive force when "My Way" is closing the achievement gap for 60 3rd graders in The Bronx, but an equally powerful destructive force when "My Way" is getting Farmer Dan to take his clothes off, Wes to hold his head back like a nosebleed and Bernie for us, and Judith to write me fake blogs about names that are simply not names.

I can't reveal too much more about this manipulative art publicly - as I believe my parents read my Blog and "My Way" has a few other projects in the works.

In Which Certain People Get Ahead Of Themselves/Can Shove It

Yesterday I outed MetaBlog's real purpose as having gone to great (roundabout) lengths attempting to Impress A Boy, and you've all been dying to know who* that might be.

Well the aforementioned Gentleman, assuming himself to be both the Boy in question and in-like-Flynn, had the audacity to correct yesterday's post.

(Boy): don't you mean raison d'etre?









(I am going to keep hitting the return key to signify sighing, my teacher stare, taking off my glasses, sighing again, and then calmly relaxing)

Yes, goddamnit. You're right. That IS what I meant. And yes, it did cross my mind while walking from one of my jobs to another of my jobs after my full-time grad school class and a 5 am workout that I might have gotten that wrong, but strangely, I just simply didn't have the time to remember to double-check.

Also strangely, MetaBlogger didn't exactly take you for a "words" kind of guy, particularly French words. We'd like to extend an open invitation (read: challenge) for YOU to compose a blog and see if you're so perfect. And no it can't be about rowing, or iPhones, and you can't have Jamie write it for you.

*Not actually in any way true, no one cares in the slightest.

Don't Be Fooled By the Rocks That We Got

We here at MetaBlog are still Jenny from the Block. Even though my Blog is ELECTRIC (and I have recently received reluctant verbal confirmation that my blog's real raison d'etat - Impressing a Boy - is, in fact, working) I haven't forgotten my roots. This is, after all, a Blog about your Blogs.

This weekend Mo had a new post about being a Mexarab - great despite some editorial changes to make it less "offensive". That is why your Metablogger promises never to get married, lest my creativity be stifled.

My Archnemisis Mitchell London, who occasionally takes a break from his impending creative doom to write for DC's culture blog Brightest Young Things, did an excellent write up on a Girl Talk show he attended.

A note on this: Mitchell's failure to ©MetaBlog* on his use of "come hard in the paint" in his article will be overlooked JUST THIS ONCE as he basically came up with my poll "How long until I become the thing I hate most?"** but I refused to ©Mitchell London as doing so only encourages him. Tit for Tat, Mitchell. But we're even now.

And lastly, Gournalist Denver Nicks is brilliant as always in a display of Real Writing about Real Things for Real Magazines.

* Yes, this should be ©FamerDan, but now that you work for me I own all of your intellectual property. Birthday parties don't just throw themselves, sweetheart.

** Which, by the way folks, don't think it's gone unnoticed that you've been voting "5 Minutes Ago" in higher numbers. That's fine, Haters. Go back to reading your 21 year old sister's Facebook status updates. Cause that generation really knows how to write things worth reading. #not

Snow Day on the Compound

Everyone's favorite Bad Example Hot Mary painted the town red (then white) last night, taking full advantage of the University's cancellation, while I stayed in and prepared for 3 presentations that ended up not happening. We caught up with her as she crunched up the driveway this morning.





Me: (opening the door and staring)
Mary, caught off guard: Oh!
Me: (starting to laugh)
Mary (looks down at her own outfit): Obviously.






We don't know about you, readership, but we here at MetaBlog think being bad never looked so good.


Thanks to Hot Mary for getting out there and giving us somethin to blog about.

#notkanyeyet

Intern Dan seems to be a bit confused about "Snow Days". Ironically, while posting on Facebook and GChatting up a storm, Young Daniel seems to believe that the Internets Have Closed Due To Inclement Weather.

We here at MetaBlog never close, and know when to capitalize on high internet traffic days. But Intern Dan seems to have gotten a little too big for his 36" inseam britches, and wants "pancakes and a contract" before he takes his clothes off.

A word of warning, Intern. Not everyone is thrilled by your meteoric rise.

Mike: This weekend is getting worse
Mike: no friends in town cause there aren't flights
Mike: meanwhile FD is sick but still getting booty in futures stock
Mike: rabble rabble rabble

Not to mention that Judith is dangerously close to deeming your name not a name. See her open letter to Jeff Goldblum.


So as you can see, Intern Daniel Tesfay, now is not the time to start behaving like Lindsay Lohan. We'll accept a video apology from your remote location. I think you know of what. #truewinner #igotowork

Get Rich or Die Tryin

I have something to confess, readership. I monetized.

Now, no...wait. Wait! Don't go. Shhh. Listen.

I have researched the production costs, and I will need $100 to mass produce the Date Farmer Dan Desk Calendar that will be going on sale at Wes Ven Johnson's table of other LBJ merchandise, which in turn will pay for the Petting Zoo we are hiring for Farmer Dan's Farm Themed Birthday Party (you heard it hear first!) So you see, I need to make ad revenue to finance it! #partyfinancialmanagement

To help me do so, I have appointed a Board of Directors. I, of course, will be President and CEO, in part because Metablog shouldn't have a glass ceiling, but more so because I most resemble Mark Zuckerberg in my awkward abrasive personality tendencies. Other board members named:

Mike, Idea Man
Elsa, Social Media and Marketing Director
Emily, Legal Dept.

Unfortunately I couldn't name Farmer Dan to the Board for lack of job experience (#getahaircutandajob), but I have named him Intern, which means he has to do what I say. Also, if you think you have what it takes to make it at Metablog, apply here.

Now, during our first Board Meeting today via international tele-conference (group g chat) London-based Social Media Director Elsa Monge reminded us that we must be willing to engage with our readership, lest we lose our base to a competitor.

Good thing an idea came earlier in the day from Trent regarding this very thing:

Trent: if you want to monetize your blog, the most obvious way is to have Farmer Dan take his shirt off. This will drive readers, who then will become hooked to your witty banter…. call him milk….also known as a loss leader in the grocery industry.

Thanks, Trent, for that great idea. I'll bet our readership wouldn't mind seeing you shirtless either.

SO, Blogosphere, if you are willing to keep visiting our site, we will do two things:

1) Stop using #trendingtwittertopics. I know, I know, we off that.

2) For every 100 hits - Intern Farmer Dan will take off a piece of clothing. (Don't worry, Google AdSense Reviewer* who will be "constantly monitoring" my site, this will be in no way pornographic.)





Now unfortunately for you, ladies - MetaBlog monetized during Austin's coldest cold snap ever. But your clicks are like the steam engine driving this strip tease. With a little work Dan will be heatin' up SRH like a back up generator.





*PS, Google AdSense Reviewer - how did you wind up with a job in which you literally get paid to dick around on the internet?
Also, while I've got you, Google AdSense Reviewer - since you work at Google - can you confirm or deny for us whether Jim made up "Gargoyling"?

In Which I Am Humbled

Farmer Dan's sizzling page has led to a tremendous response.

My friend Samantha and sister Kelly, both of similar mind and banter style (naturally, as I taught them everything they know - but not everything I know) each independently submitted a plea to our Daniel asking that he consider her.

So I present to you, audience, the following two guest bloggers. Their words are their own, and their love is real.

Me: WHAT? No. Absolutely NOT we are not using those pictures.
Sam: You can't edit submissions
Me: Of course I can.
Sam: It may be your blog
Sam: But this is my one chance at love.

Not surprisingly, Kelly said something similar although hers was the general big sisters "Don't F**k this up". Although Dan I'd be careful about Kelly - as I imagine that she simply couldn't stand that for about 48 hours there (while she was on vacation and unable to defend her title) I was Funnier Than Her.

But now, the world is back in order. I am humbled and outdone.

Blogs About Nothing

This week in blogs:

1) Kelly didn't get a tan
2) Mark didn't go skiing
3) Mitchell didn't post anything having to do with a wedding.

So I had to take things into my own hands, and create a new fake blog to blog about.

How did I get my hardworking graduate school friends to stop doing Public Financial Management and pose for the pictures, you ask? Well the long and short of it is, if Mama Caits ain't happy, no one's happy.

A special thanks to Katie Whitehouse, for being generally adorable, and today's Good Example, in Real Life as well as in the Blogosphere.

The Bad Example position went naturally to my infamous yardmate Hot Mary. Convincing her to pose as a bad girl went a little something like this on a Sunday afternoon at 5 pm, as she came back from studying in a half shirt and the shortest jorts ever:

Me: Hey, I need your help posing as the Bad Example for my fake blog
Mary: Ok but make it fast, I'm on my way to the bar
Me: Well good news is you don't have to change clothes

So, finally, readership. The moment you've been waiting for.

Date Farmer Dan Dot Com!

Relax

I have fielded a lot of gchats, texts, and voice-conversations this weekend regarding my blog, the overwhelming consensus of which was “Why has it been 1-36 hours (ranging based on when you each began to panic) since you last posted?!?!?!?!?!?”

The answer, Blogosphere, is that on the weekends, I interact with my Human Friends to research things about which to Blog. This is an inconvenient part of the week in which I must disconnect my Avatar-USB-mind-strings from my laptop and go out unto the world.

This includes such absurdities as going to concerts instead of viewing Daytrotter, drinking double Jamesons on the rocks instead of just being the usual drunk-on-my-own-wit, and using my iPhone 7 to send and receive texts with Trent, which I'll count as quality interaction since they go a little like this:

Trent: I'm shocked Martin Lawrence was available for a Big Momma's House Sequel
Caitlin: Stop vying for a position as my next fake blog
Trent: I don't need a fake blog for me to think people want my pop culture wit

So relax, Audience. I'll return tomorrow to submit, for your consideration, the first in a series of Failed Blogs, or Blogs That Shouldn't Be. In the meantime, a shout-out to Mark Catherall, whose vigilance in translating Robot to English for my $150,000 Liberal Arts brain has led to many of newfangled features of MetaBlogalog. His Blog still sucks, so I can't recognize him as Daily Blog of the Day, but I can create a new category: Daily Blogger of the Day.

Author's Purpose

Let me clear a few things up here. Similar to the scene in Dark Knight in which Christian Bale laments the copycat Batmans ("This is not what I meant when I said I wanted to inspire people"), I feel as though you all might have taken my Blog-a-log a wee bit incorrectly. ("I'm not wearing hockey pads!")

My blog is employing a literary device known as satire, in which I use humor to draw attention to a problem or make a larger statement. So, if this were an 11th grade literature quiz - do you think that statement is

A) start blogging

B) stop blogging

Based on the fact that Tumblr's server was incapacitated this morning, I fear too many of you answered A.

So let me offer a few examples of what I mean.

1) Judith: I have in no way obligated you to create ThatsNotANAme@blogspot.com, despite the fact that as you pointed out last night there are so many families employing objects, verbs, and unknown as names for their children. It is an endemic problem, but it need not be a blog.

2) Siiri: If you were teetering on the fence about whether to start, or stop blogging - the answer should have been B, stop blogging.

3) Wes(z): After listening to my explanation of the literary device "satire" last night, I did not intend for you to start a meta-literary-oppositional blog to my blog (Don'tReadCaitlin'sBlog@blogspot.com) that employs primarily onomatopoeia.

4) Mark: Going and doing attention-seeking things like busting your (other) knee, as well as posting hilarious things I say is NOT the way to earn Daily Blog of the Day. Although if any of this has been worth it, it was to hear Ellen shout "no one reads our blog" at you last night on video chat as you attempted to compete with my hits counter.

5) On that note - Ladies of LBJ, who account for 98% of my astronomical hits: It's a joke, girls. You can stop checking back to see if DateFarmerDan.com has gone live.

6) Lastly to Mike Franco, who got awfully salty over getting ripped on my blog about blogs when he doesn't even like blogging and apparently was sick the day they taught Satire at Stanford: I'm sorry. As an apology, I hereby move for a new nickname: IM. It can stand for either your intramural prowess, or Mike Franco, Idea Man. As long as you're willing to compete with a seventeen year old Mitchell London, Innovator.

Like a regulatory commission - the more you blog, the more I'll be forced to blog.

("What would you have me do, Alfred? Endure, Master Wayne. Endure.")

My Meta Blog-A-Log

Ah, the Internets. You can't swing a cat around here without hitting six of your friend's blogs. And given that most of your friends just sit in a chair doing Excel for Someone all day, 75% of these blogs Never Should Have Been. Unless you're This Guy and you've had YET ANOTHER encounter with a terrifying spider, no one wants to read your blog.

Not to mention that blogs are the 21st century technological realization of the old conversational adage that people “are never really listening to you, they're just waiting for their turn to speak” (if you count Fight Club quotations as adages). I can hear the cheers of Kelly Sharp now, for having finally circumvented that annoying part of a conversation in which someone else gets to talk.

A bit hostile, you might say? Maybe. I could have kept my views to myself, but you all just wouldn't Leave Me Out of It. Just yesterday alone I had no less than 5 conversations (while trying desperately to do my Excel for my Someone) about your blogs. “Name my blog, edit my blog, read my blog, love my blog,” you all respectively pleaded.

No, I will not name, read, edit, or love your blog. No I will not watch yet another music video of you going down hill on sticks. Instead I will create my own Meta Blog-a-Log, in which I blog about the experience of blogging. I will cover Failed Blogs, celebrate Blog of the Day, and be the general Voice of Reason against Mike Franco's Blog Ideas. Because, goddamnit, it's my turn to speak.