The great thing about weblogging that people don't want to say is the great thing is this: You can tell whatever the hell dumb, pointless, possibly untrue stories you want, and people don't have to read them. For example,
Tiny Roomate and I went to the hip hop and breakdancing night at that club that's attatched to that new arcade last night. While it was neat to watch all the floor-spinning and hat falling off etc, we were kind of tired and in desperate need of fruit, so we headed toward casa de la roy but made an emergency stop at the grocer. Somehow, it became the best idea ever to buy hot dogs and white flour buns. We put them in the microwave before we unpacked anything else and each ate a hot dog with ketchup at one in the morning.
So I'm sitting on the floor, eating my hot dog and already developing what has become a horrible stomach ache, when I realize that tomorrow is the first day of school for summer session and I haven't seen my math book in a week. TR has already passed out on our bed with her party shoes on and is half waking up to offer such gems of enlightenment as "Did you look in the freezer?"
Are you fucking crazy? Of course I looked in the freezer. Every lost thing is usually in the freezer.
So after I check under the shoe pile and in the laundry... ("Maybe you put it away with the towells....I don't know...") I give up and go to bed. stupid math book.
I wake up first thing this morning and it hits me like playground bully. I roll out of bed onto the phone and dial.
"Hello?"
"mmrrrrgghhhnnmmath bookat yourhouse?"
he laughs a little. "Good morning, you. Yeah, it's been at my house since the beginning of break. I'll bring it along tonight."
"mmmmmrrgghhh."
"I'll talk to you later in the morning."
and that's the end of the story unless you count the part where TR realizes that all the work shirts she bought may or may not accidently expose mid or cleave, and that I used hair gel from the free pile this morning. Go Pointless Story! Make Love! Have Pointless Babies! Populate The Earth!
and then I found five dollars.
the end.
Posted by Sonya at July 1, 2003 08:57 AM"Expose mid or cleave" sounds way dirtier than it actually is. Also, here is the pointless baby of your pointless story:
Last time I was at Sephora (which was a long time ago, now that I think about it) they gave me a bunch of samples of face lotion with sunscreen. I just rubbed some on the dry skin under my eyes because, hey, that's part of my face, and that's where face lotion goes, right? But evidentally it's not because the sunscreen lotion is now smearing onto my eyeballs and my eyes are goopy and burning and teary and this really sucks.
Posted by: mol at July 1, 2003 10:19 AMFive bucks! Rejoice!
Posted by: dayment at July 1, 2003 10:33 AMEven if you're making all your stories up, you still rock.
Posted by: UnderwearNinja at July 1, 2003 12:54 PMUnderwearNinja: She doesn't actually make any of them up. They all happen to her in my imagination. That's why she's such a fully-realized character.
Posted by: Joshua at July 1, 2003 12:56 PMOOOH! Scandal is afoot at noematic.org! Is Sonya simply a concoction of the evil Emperor Norton? Who the heck does he think he is? Perhaps 'Sonya' is actually Steven Walksmite, A former stockbroker from Illinois turned Urban Female Early Twenties Blogger! Mystery! Madness! Intrigue! Internet!
Here's a clue, the least true part about this story is that I found five bucks. I didn't. You know. ...find five bucks.
Here's another bit of information. UN, you were my thousandth comment from my move to moveable type. Joshy, you were the thousandth and first.
Posted by: Sonya's 1003rd Comment! at July 1, 2003 01:18 PMwhat happened to the 1002nd comment? did someone eat it?
Posted by: yanda at July 1, 2003 01:21 PMI see that the possibility of intrigue has not distracted you from my horrendous counting problem...
Posted by: sonya at July 1, 2003 02:30 PMhmmm, so are you real *hands on hips*?
I think you're real, you have an email address and everything. I have never seen you and Josh in the same room together at the same time (true), and so I can not confirm.
but maybe I am not from England after all but am actually your neighbor that has stalked you since the time you ran up and down the hall at 3am screaming "Livin' La Vida Loca"... maybe I drive an '88 monte-carlo and wear K'Mart sneakers and spend my vacations driving east to sip Seven Eleven slurpee's...
Maybe there's more evil in the murky corners of the Internet than we dare mention...
then again, maybe I've just typed myself into a corner...
chin chin
Posted by: fire3500 at July 1, 2003 03:28 PMAs regards Sonya's e-mail address: you'll notice it's a Noematic address? And who runs Noematic? Something else to pay attention to here, folks: most of Sonya's friends? The ones with whom she claims to actually spend time in real life? They're all on Noematic too.
I'm not saying you shouldn't have fun with her. And if it makes you feel better to think she's a real person, by all means-- go for it. I'm really very proud of her. The fact that so many people have formed "meaningful" relationships with is really the highest compliment anyone could pay me. I'm just saying: how many pretty blonde girls do you know who walk around in kneesocks and talk to homeless people. Come on now, folks. Really.
the plot sickens. Is the superstar a figment of the imagination. Is the princess a pretender. (Cue bad soap opera music from the 70's). Tune in next time for an all new episode of Kneesocks and Pretty Dresses
Posted by: patrickt at July 1, 2003 04:09 PMKneesocks and Pretty Dresses and a Really Dirty Mouth.
ic, I can tell you that I've personally smooched her on the neck (she smells like babies), but that doesn't help you unless you figure out whether *I* am really real, too.
cheers!
Posted by: mol at July 1, 2003 04:43 PMWell, I most certainly AM real, and I can assure all the doubters out there that sjet is a true, real, actual and empirically verifyable entity. She has been seen and spoken with at Birthday Parties, Staff Meetings, Late Night Cabarets, Fundraisers, Retreats and Bowling Alleys. She does wear knee socks & pretty dresses, and probably does smell like babies, albeit I'm guessing it's a smell more reminiscent to after they have been liberally talced than before. She does in fact swear like a Bristol sailor, and will kick the ass of anyone who gets in her way. She has also been known to roller-skate in the house and sell raffle tickets.
So, please ignore the vile ramblings of HRH Emperor Norton and his minions. They seek to obsfuscate the truth, and are not to be trusted.
Posted by: THE COMTE at July 2, 2003 01:49 PMAh Comte... wise wise words... although I SEE THROUGH YOUR FACADE! What kind of parent calls their beloved child The? And I checked my phone book and there's not a single Comte listed!
Ha!
(frightened by balsa-wood world)
Posted by: fire3500 at July 2, 2003 02:21 PMWhile we may think I've done all of those things, it's all a part of the evil vision. I'm starting to doubt my own reality more and more.
Posted by: sonya the real live fake at July 2, 2003 02:37 PMYou can't find my phone number 'cause cellphones aren't listed in The White Pages.
A quick Google shows 27,300 references to webpages containing the words "The Comte". You just have to figure out which ones refer specifically to moi.
And sjet, I don't doubt your existence for a second. No Kantian Casualist am I.
Posted by: THE COMTE at July 2, 2003 05:02 PMI dunno, Josh, you really need to work on your character's plausibility. I mean, come on. This kneesock-and-gingham-dress-wearing, scooter-driving small-town girl who challenges boys to fights, loves zombies, pirates, strong drink and Guns and Roses, who throws her shoes at the wicked and discourteous-- plainly you've made this character a little too good to be believed. Try throwing in at least a minor flaw or two next time so the readers can have something to relate to. Jeez.
Posted by: flamingbanjo at July 2, 2003 07:04 PMI dunno.... Josh is always upgrading that holographic projector on his laptop.
Posted by: sven at July 4, 2003 02:25 PM