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For well over a year now a good friend of mine, Simonnne, has been blogging about her and her husband’s efforts to overcome infertility and start a family. I’ve mentioned her blog in a few posts, linked to it from my Blogroll (see bottom of right-hand column) and recommended it to more than a few people I know.
Candid, sometimes gritty and more often than not at least mildly amusing, Simonne’s blog is everything a great blog should be and proof that you don’t have to be Robert Scoble (nice redesign, hey?) to build a substantial and loyal following.
Anyhoo, today Simonne published the post we’d been hoping for all along. Even though I already knew what it was going to say (I don’t get all my news online folks) I was mesmerised when I read the words. It was like watching the final episode in a long-running TV series where you finally find out who the villain is, the hero proves his innocence, the castaways leave the island (yeah right!), and that annoying ‘will they or won’t they‘ couple finally do it – you’re watching it unfold on screen but can’t quite believe your eyes ‘cos it’s just too damn big a deal to really be happening, right?
But there is was…
First and foremost, congrats to Simonne and Al. You’re going to be fantastic parents and I’m going to be a fantastic uncle/godfather-type guy. Driving lessons, man-to-man talks, cigars, poker and beer pong a specialty. But I don’t do shitty nappies. Don’t even ask. I mean seriously – we’re good friends and all, but you gotta draw the line somewhere. And I did. No shitty nappies.
I’m having a hard time expressing it clearly, but I have this strange sensation of having been a part of something huge, simply by being a regular reader of Simonne’s blog. By reading her thoughts and the reactions of her online friends I was part of something that only happened and existed online – something so much more than words on a screen and at the same time almost totally unrelated to events in the real world. It was (is) kinda surreal.
When I finally figure it out properly I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I have no doubt Simonne will continue to eat cake for breakfast (because she can) and am looking forward to future tales of shopping, pregnancy, shopping, motherhood, shopping and … you get the picture.
Q: Do you think infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?
Somebody’s mother **NSFW** must be really proud right about now. All those years scrimping and saving for college fees when you could have been living it up? Store-brand groceries, deferred vacations, hand-me-down clothes? Good to know it was all worth it, hey?
Ok maybe not, but the implied causaulity of these headlines – juxtaposed at Drudge this afternoon – had me wondering…
Starbucks is owned by Latino immigrants?
Ok I get it – Americans buy coffee beans for pennies. Sell for dollars. Pay Latino immigrant workers pennies (keep dollars to pay for big house in Malibu). Workers live/cram in tiny shack, no heat, nutritious food or healthcare, yet still send a few pennies home each week. Holy shit! I’ve turned into Michael Moore!
The truely scary thing is that if you ask any American whose leg you have to hump to find a decent coffee in this town (any American city), they’ll recommend Starbucks. And mean it! Brian Brown was right – in the States, beer really is for breakfast.