Faces Come Out Of The Rain

I thought I was writing in a void.

Well, not so much a void – more of an airport waiting room where only people from other towns and other countries ever passed through. The people in my blog list for example. Maybe a few pieces of stray luggage passing by as they desperately try to locate their owners. My wife on occasion when I nag her to read through what I’ve composed...

But nobody else.

But it seems I was wrong.

It seems that some of the people that I work with are reading this here very blog. They are taking my hastily scrawled words or irreverence and discussing them over their sandwiches in the staffroom.

And how do I know this?

My boss told me this morning.

You know that crash you heard? That was the sound of my jaw smashing clean through my mug of hot chocolate and an MDF table top. I now have blood, chocolate and teeth on my shoes.

I confess I didn’t quite know what to say. What went through my mind was: “How dare people I know read my blog – it’s only meant for friends that I haven’t actually met.”

The other thought was: “Shit, what the hell have I written about my boss?”

I’m a lot calmer now though. As the day has progressed my keel has gradually evened itself. C’est la vie.

And as the sun sets on this (in)auspicious day, the questions now are slightly different:

Am I the unofficial spokesperson for a disenfranchised and World Wide Web friendly workforce? Am I the übermensch and spiritual leader of a new breed of chat-room based cyber terrorists? Or am I merely a source of local misinformation for my work colleagues and fellow council officers?

I suspect – alas – the latter.

Ho hum. Infamy, infamy, they’ve got it in for me... what is an erstwhile propagandist to do (except keep tapping away)?

One last question though before I sign off:

Can I now continue to write in as free and easy a manner (hey, I might make it look easy but...) as I have done these last three wonderfully unrestrained years now knowing that people I have daily contact with are possibly reading my cyber meanderings and offering up opinions on them as they go about their normal work duties?

It’s a toughie.

I hope the answer will be yes. I hope I will adhere to the writer’s motto of: “I write what I like”. I’ve always been (I hope) circumspect and careful. So really it should be business as usual.

But, I admit, I do feel rather...

Strange.

Arsebook

Following a justified dig at online social networking utilities by Rol over at Sunset Over Slawit yesterday I’ve misspent valuable work time this morning thinking up the perfect antidote.

I’d like to patent the idea for an antisocial networking utility which would function along the same lines as Facebook except that instead of trying to accrue loads of friends onto your web profile the goal would be to lose as many as possible. A possible name for this online service could be Arsebook (which, ahem, has a certain ring to it). I’m sure somebody out there could come up with a suitably pert little logo and even build and manage the site for me... cos I really can’t be arsed.

Members can accrue arse points each time they lose an online friend – and maybe earn extra arse points if they actually lose a real life friend that they’ve actually met in the real physical world? You could also install various apps onto your profile page designed to snub, insult and drive away all the other members who are there solely to pimp their band, homemade porno pics, terrorist training camps, etc. And there could be a status box where you could type in the current state of your arseyness at regular intervals of the day so that any other Arsebook member happening across your profile will know that you are flying the flag of arsedom and are to be added to their ever growing list of non-online-friends. Arsetastic!

Personally I think it’s a winner.

By the way, for those of you who have read this far: this is my 300th post. Send the Moet to the usual address please, barman...