Normally, Sophia thinks I spend too much time blogging, but lately,  she’s been curious about other bloggers. 

“After all, I’m going to meet some in Portland,” she said.  

This morning, she brought her laptop into my room.

“Tell me who each of these people is who said happy birthday to me.”

“Each person?!”

“Who’s Hilly?”

“She’s from Orange County.  She’ll be in Portland.”

“We’re going all the way to Oregon to meet someone from Orange County?”

“I guess so.  In a strange way, it’s easier that way.” 

“And what type of name is Lizardek?”

“I have no idea.  She lives in Sweden.  Maybe it has something to do with Sweden.”

“It doesn’t sound very Swedish.  Didn’t you ever ask her?”


“Aren’t you curious?”

“I guess so.  In the beginning.”

“Why don’t you ever ask her?  “Why are you called Lizardek?”  Or ask this Leahpeah “Why are you called Leahpeah?”  Does it have anything to do what onomatopoeia?”

“OK, I’ll ask them.  Better?

“It’s like you’re not even interested in your own readers.”

“I’m interested… up to a point.”

“How many Heathers are there out there?  There’s this Heather and that Heather and Heather B. and Heather C..  I’m getting all the Heathers mixed up.”

“Believe me.  Everyone does.”

“What the hell is a Jurgen Nation?    It sounds like some racist organization.”

“I think Jurgen is the dog.”

“Jurgen is the guy’s dog?”

“Jurgen is a woman.  I mean she is a woman, and the dog… I don’t know what the dog is.  She’s really a Stacy.”

“The dog?”

“No, Stacy is the blogger.”

“So, why doesn’t she just say she’s Stacy?”

“Am I my blogger’s keeper?  You’ll have to ask her some day.”

“But this Kapgar is a guy, right?  I remember sending him a photo from New York.”

“Right.  He’s in Chicago.  There is a whole bunch of bloggers in Chicago.  I don’t know why.  A lot of bloggers are in Chicago and Washington D.C.”

“And who is this V-Grrrl?  Is V for victory?

“Veronica.  She’s the one who sent me the statue of the Belgian pissing boy.”

“Is Whoorl the one who is married to the ex-priest?”

“What?!  I never said anything about any ex-priests.”

“Isn’t one of your readers married to someone who was a priest?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Who is she married to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you read her?”

“I don’t know every detail of these people’s lives!  I know Whoorl had a baby.  I don’t even remember her real name.”

“Of the baby?”

“No.  Of Whoorl.”

“Is the baby a girl or a boy?”

“Huh… jeez… Uh… uh… wait…. some other blogger had a girl.  I think she had a boy.”

“Do the other bloggers realize how little you KNOW about them?”

“You can’t get to know everyone that well through blogging.”

“Why not?

“It’s the wrong medium.”

“So, it’s the right medium to talk about your penis, but the wrong medium to ask a person’s name?”

“I think I actually did write a post once asking people their real names.”

“If I were blogging, I would know more about the other bloggers.  Who are they?  What do they do?  Who they are dating?”

“Why this sudden interest?  Are you thinking of starting a blog?!”

“No way.”

“Thank god.”

“But since I’m meeting some bloggers in Portland, why don’t you tell me who is coming?.”

“I don’t know all of them.”

“Isn’t Ms. Sizzle going to be there?”

“Yes.  She’s nice.”

“Is she the one who sent you a topless photo of herself?”

“No.  That was someone else.”

“Do you still have it?”

“It’s on my desktop somewhere.” 


“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Why is this Portland thing just one night?  Shouldn’t it be like three days?”

“Three days?  Who has three days?  We all have to get back to blogging.”

“It just seems so silly to travel thousands of miles to have a couple of drinks for one night.”

“I think there’s someone travelling in from England.”

“You people are crazy.”

“Well, most of them are pretty nice.” 

“Yes, it was very nice how they wished me a happy birthday.”

“Maybe I should email everyone back and thank them.”

“It’s not necessary, Neilochka.  You can do it on your blog.”

“But maybe it would be nicer if I did each person individually.”

“No. You don’t need to do that”

“Why not?”

“Because I already did it last night.”

“What do you mean?!”

“I sent everyone an email and thanked them.”

“You WENT on MY email and stole their addresses?!”

“No, silly.  Everyone’s address is on the blog administration page.   

“Wait… so you emailed them… FROM YOU?!  From your email address?!”

“Yes.  You are so odd.  Of course I emailed them FROM ME.  What are you getting all hysterical for?   I just wanted to thank them for their birthday wishes.”

“It’s going to confuse them.  They’re going to get all concerned!”

“Calm down…  Concerned?”

“Don’t you see?  You’re NOT REAL to them.  I’m the real one.”  

“And what am I?”

“You’re more… you’re sort of…  what are you doing?  Are you trying to steal my readers?”

“Why would I steal your readers?” 

“You’re trying to win them over to your side, aren’t you?”

“You’re PARANOID!”

“They can’t get to know you.”

“Why not, Neilochka?”

“Because… they need… they need…they…”

“Oh, I see.  …they need to only hear your side of every story?”