I Just Stick Out My Chin and Grin, and Then What?

I’m sure you haven’t been keeping track of my blogger confessions. Chances are, you have better things to do. I hope you have better things to do. But if you’ve made note of my revelations, then you know the following things about me:

1. I like to pretend I’m a hot back-up dancer.
2. I embrace nostalgia -- weepy, goofy, or otherwise.
3. I’m a good alliterator, bad stylist.
4. I won’t be getting married soon, but I might get a new computer.
5. I have crabs (two).

That pretty much sums up my blog, so if you haven’t read it at all -- now you know. Oh, and I like to rhyme. Cellophane, night in Spain, bathroom drain, and on and on.

In the spirit of self-disclosure, I’ll add another tidbit tonight. Are you ready? It shames me to admit it, but....I really want to be discovered.

Blogging takes a fair amount of egocentrism. Simply by starting this blog, I’ve revealed that I get a kick out of analyzing the day-to-day events in my life, and I believe they’re worth sharing with you.

It shouldn’t surprise anyone, then, that I deeply desire recognition from the world at large Every time I refresh my email account (meaning, about 781 times per day), I anticipate a note from Salon.com or The New York Times, requesting my services as a weekly columnist. "We stumbled across your discourse on beginner karate and Robert Palmer," they’ll say. "Absolute brilliance! Can you take Frank Rich’s slot?"

In a way, I’ve been a fame-o-phile for years. As a 7 year old, I used to stand in our Murfreesboro driveway, singing to myself and smiling precociously, with the notion that a Broadway talent scout would walk by and exclaim, "THAT’S the kid who should be in our Annie revival." I think I got the idea from a Ramona Quimby book -- Ramona knew she’d be a shoo-in for advertising Juicy-O or dog food.

Unfortunately, I never grasped Beverly Cleary’s tender humor. Of course Ramona would be a star. And I would, too....it’s only a daaaaaay awayyyyyyy!

You can imagine how disappointed I was to find this article in yesterday’s New York Times online ("Reader, I Dated Him"):

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/24/fashion/sundaystyles/24KLEIN.html?ex=1122868800&en=0fa084f00d5174d2&ei=5070&emc=eta1

Stephanie Klein is a 29-year-old blogger who got discovered. According to the article, "Today [her] blog has an international readership, with fans who recognize Ms. Klein when they see her gallivanting around Manhattan and the Hamptons, and who find parallels in their own lives in her candid, freewheeling stories."

"Ms. Klein" is full-on sunbathing in the glory that I envision for myself.

So is Jason Mulgrew, People’s "bachelor blogger." His latest posts hint that he may have a Hollywood movie deal.

Why am I upset? If it happened to Klein and Mulgrew, it can happen to me. I have the dream! I have the drive! And well, that’s about it. Dream and drive. Dreaming and driving aren’t likely to get me very far. Can I say that and still be American? I think so.

For starters, the Klein article goes on to report that out of 13 million blogs, "single-subject or niche blogs" hardly ever rate in the top-100 for "net attention." Blog surfers prefer to read news and politics, the article explains.

Adding insult to injury (or vice versa, whatever): "Most of the millions of daily-life blogs have only a handful of regular readers, generally the author’s friends."

Gee, thanks, NYT. Most of my friends don’t read my blog....so what does that say for me? It’s a hard-knock life.

Another small impediment to my super-stardom: I’m not exactly "gallivanting around Manhattan." I don’t even "gallivant" here at home, unless you count my trips to the community rec center. Can you gallivant on a treadmill?

Apparently, Stephanie Klein spends her evenings eating at Maxie’s steakhouse on Park Avenue South and "sipping cocktails with strawberries and kiwis in them." All the while, she’s attracting men who will fuel her "racy anecdotes."

Here’s what I did last night -- Saturday night:

1. Ate a burrito with half a can of enchilada sauce.
2. Listened to an Otis Redding CD while watching my crabs.
3. Drank a margarita, then, why not, a couple glasses of wine.
4. Lay down on my bathroom floor, pretending to feel a buzz.
5. Got up, checked Friendster, checked IM, checked email, checked crabs.
6. Continued "checking" for 2 hours.
7. Watched 30 minutes of an "SNL" rerun (David Spade...yawn).
8. Went to bed.

I could write an essay about that. In fact, I wrote some very bad haiku. But I decided not to post it, because I did not want to appear...how shall we say it....pathetic.

But perhaps I’m "on" to something. Jason Mulgrew and Stephanie Klein have gained recognition for leading highly social, escapade-filled lives. So maybe the key to my worldwide popularity lies in doing something completely different. I’m thinking total seclusion and tedium. More crabs! More Otis! More bathroom floor! What do you say?

Are you there?

Well, drat.