Jennifer Aniston's Phone Number
I had another weird ass dream last night. In this one, Jennifer Aniston somehow found out I existed, decided she (*snicker*) liked me, and had someone give me her phone number. Yes, I know that's ridiculous, but bear with me here. It was a dream, okay?
Anyway, so I had this opportunity to go on a date with Jennifer, right? And what did I do? I spent the ENTIRE DREAM staring down at the slip of paper with her number scrawled on it, talking myself out of calling her. "There's no fucking way I'm calling Jennifer Aniston," I told myself. "Who the fuck do I think I am? Her ex was Brad Pitt, for Christ's sake! There's no way in hell that I'm gonna call her." The funny thing is, Jennifer never even appeared in the dream.
Now, I'll bet when you saw that I had a dream about a Hollywood starlet, you were probably expecting me to launch into something straight out of Penthouse Letters. But don't you see what a pathetic prick I am? I'm not even allowed to have fun in my dreams. And I'll be honest with you, that's exactly what I would have done in real life, too.
Not that Aniston will ever read this entry, of course. But you never know--since I started writing this blog just over a month ago, it's taken on a life of its own. I know for a fact that many of the people who read this drivel have never even read my columns. I'm not even sure how they end up finding this blog, unless they like to spend their free time typing weird shit into search engines. Check out this e-mail I got yesterday;
From: "Blodvarg" blodvarg@gmail.com
To: goodnight_tonight@yahoo.com
Subject: "Blog of a Loner"
Date: Mon, 29 Aug 2005 01:37:17 +0200
Hi,
I kind of stumbled over your blog by accident - I must say that it's very consoling to know that I am not the only person with a life that I'd more or less define as worst case scenario. I don't even know why I am writing this, maybe just to practice my English, maybe because there is nothing better to do, maybe to inform you about you not being the only person with a sort of miserable life (sorry to remind you of that again), maybe a bit of everything - but also because I like what I've read until now. As did the other people that read excerpts from your blog. You're the first self-defined loner that has earned kind of international fame, if you want to put it that way.
I know, it seems to be kind of a fan-mail style ass-kissing deluxe, but I somehow had to write this down.
By the way, when I read that you don't have a woman sticking to you all the time, I'd call you "lucky" rather than a "loser". One of the special abilities of this kind of humans is spreading rumours about their boyfriends after leaving them for some faggots they don't even like. The new guy of my 2nd ex-girlfriend actually threatened he'd do things that one can't describe to me if I didn't stop telling her that I want the stuff back that was still at her house. I've waited a year now and for some reason given up hope to ever see anything of it again. Suppose most of humanity is a pile of, well, shite. But to not bother you with details of a life that might sound somewhat familiar to you anyway, I'll stop here. Just wanted you to know that - that what? Well, see above. I don't have a clue why I just wrote all this.
Anyways, greetings from Germany.
- Blodvarg
It's an interesting notion, this whole idea of "Internet celebrity." Dean's Planet is somewhat famous, so those of us who write for it have a small degree of "fame by association." But obviously, I'm NOT famous, otherwise I'd be getting laid constantly. I do like the idea of people around the world reading my blog and identifying with a loser like myself, though. I'm slowly starting to become the "Charlie Brown" of the Internet. Or maybe people read this blog for the same reason I watch Detroit Tigers games; when I watch the Tigers, I know the chances are very good that they're going to get their asses pounded into the ground night after night. But still, regardless of what happens, they go out the next night and try again. That's kind of like me, I guess.
Thanks for the e-mail, Blodvarg. I must say, your English is quite good. In fact, you seem to have a better grasp on the language than most Americans do.
Anyway, so I had this opportunity to go on a date with Jennifer, right? And what did I do? I spent the ENTIRE DREAM staring down at the slip of paper with her number scrawled on it, talking myself out of calling her. "There's no fucking way I'm calling Jennifer Aniston," I told myself. "Who the fuck do I think I am? Her ex was Brad Pitt, for Christ's sake! There's no way in hell that I'm gonna call her." The funny thing is, Jennifer never even appeared in the dream.
Now, I'll bet when you saw that I had a dream about a Hollywood starlet, you were probably expecting me to launch into something straight out of Penthouse Letters. But don't you see what a pathetic prick I am? I'm not even allowed to have fun in my dreams. And I'll be honest with you, that's exactly what I would have done in real life, too.
Not that Aniston will ever read this entry, of course. But you never know--since I started writing this blog just over a month ago, it's taken on a life of its own. I know for a fact that many of the people who read this drivel have never even read my columns. I'm not even sure how they end up finding this blog, unless they like to spend their free time typing weird shit into search engines. Check out this e-mail I got yesterday;
From: "Blodvarg" blodvarg@gmail.com
To: goodnight_tonight@yahoo.com
Subject: "Blog of a Loner"
Date: Mon, 29 Aug 2005 01:37:17 +0200
Hi,
I kind of stumbled over your blog by accident - I must say that it's very consoling to know that I am not the only person with a life that I'd more or less define as worst case scenario. I don't even know why I am writing this, maybe just to practice my English, maybe because there is nothing better to do, maybe to inform you about you not being the only person with a sort of miserable life (sorry to remind you of that again), maybe a bit of everything - but also because I like what I've read until now. As did the other people that read excerpts from your blog. You're the first self-defined loner that has earned kind of international fame, if you want to put it that way.
I know, it seems to be kind of a fan-mail style ass-kissing deluxe, but I somehow had to write this down.
By the way, when I read that you don't have a woman sticking to you all the time, I'd call you "lucky" rather than a "loser". One of the special abilities of this kind of humans is spreading rumours about their boyfriends after leaving them for some faggots they don't even like. The new guy of my 2nd ex-girlfriend actually threatened he'd do things that one can't describe to me if I didn't stop telling her that I want the stuff back that was still at her house. I've waited a year now and for some reason given up hope to ever see anything of it again. Suppose most of humanity is a pile of, well, shite. But to not bother you with details of a life that might sound somewhat familiar to you anyway, I'll stop here. Just wanted you to know that - that what? Well, see above. I don't have a clue why I just wrote all this.
Anyways, greetings from Germany.
- Blodvarg
It's an interesting notion, this whole idea of "Internet celebrity." Dean's Planet is somewhat famous, so those of us who write for it have a small degree of "fame by association." But obviously, I'm NOT famous, otherwise I'd be getting laid constantly. I do like the idea of people around the world reading my blog and identifying with a loser like myself, though. I'm slowly starting to become the "Charlie Brown" of the Internet. Or maybe people read this blog for the same reason I watch Detroit Tigers games; when I watch the Tigers, I know the chances are very good that they're going to get their asses pounded into the ground night after night. But still, regardless of what happens, they go out the next night and try again. That's kind of like me, I guess.
Thanks for the e-mail, Blodvarg. I must say, your English is quite good. In fact, you seem to have a better grasp on the language than most Americans do.
3 Comments:
Reading that guys email brought back memories of jr high. Now I want to kill myself again. Talk about pathetic.
Ab
Wow. I guess I should feel sorry now, but as I hardly know you and have a life of my own to hate, I guess it's ok.
Anyways, what you call "memories" for me is still reality (still got one year to go until I'll have finished school), so you can actually consider yourself lucky.
Death didn't help the other guys I knew, though. Keep that in mind, will you?
Jr. high was 20 years ago. My life is fine now. I make a good living and even get laid now and then by my wife of 12 years. I know I'm lucky. The bad memories are still strong though.
Ab
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home