THE LAST FIVE ... Closing up shop It may be time for a change Entry in the air Still here Music of the moment Or ... BE RANDOM! GOOD READS 101 in
1001 OTHER PEOPLE Chupatintas THE BASICS |
Friday, Nov. 09, 2001 - 12:00 a.m. Write me in DairylandHEY! Look at that -- 12:00 a.m. and I didn't have to fake it (like I did the other day, for my one-year anniversary entry on Nov. 7 that I really started at 12:07 p.m.). So Megan informed me that the e-mail link to the left wasn't working, so I checked it out and saw that's because it had said "[email protected]." HA! DAIRYland, like I can be reached in the land of many cows! But it's fixed now. So, you know, I don't get this "notes" deal that D-land has going. I set up my notes some time ago -- let's say weeks -- and to date I have exactly as many notes as I had before I set it up. That's 0 (zero) for those of you keeping score at home. It's like I'm back in grade school, where I never had any notes passed to me. Ever. I was never one to sit down at my desk after recess and have a note from a secret admirer awaiting me. I rarely had notes stuffed into my locker in high school. I simply was not a note-passer, and not worthy of receiving them. I did get one anonymous secret-admirer Valentine in the mail one year. (I suppose there won't be much of that happening this year.) I never found out who it was, but I suspect it was probably just some friend playing a lame joke on me. But anyway, what's the point of notes on D-land? They are only (as far as I can tell) accessible through your profile, and how many people go to your profile once they know (or "know") you? And how is it different from signing a guestbook? (As far as I can see, it's not.) And the guestbooks are more easily reached, usually by a quick click somewhere on the main diary page. Maybe I'm just as lame with Diaryland note-swapping as I was with elementary school note-passing. Sigh. Well, I should get out of here. It's 12:09 and work's done and I've got five hours of TV -- from Friends to ER, Family Guy to The Tick, and Survivor -- on tape at home to watch. Where's my life again?
Next page: The Survivor twist
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