Mine’s Not a High Horse

November 18th, 2007

It’s not that hard to blow my mind, considering I once thought that Russell Simmons was the founder of Russell Athletic apparel, and not, in fact, a hip-hop pioneer who was once married to the most irritating woman on the planet (I hate Kimora. HAAAATE.). Years ago, Adam told me this as a joke, not realizing that I would tell other people that he was the CEO of cheap sweatshirts and not Def Poetry Jam. Seriously, I told people this, and at least three believed me, until one day my friend Bianca came to work and very gently told me that her boyfriend corrected her, and did I know that Simmons was actually Quite a Big Deal?

The only reasoning I can muster is that I grew up in Pennsylvania, where heavy metal and mullets ruled and the hip hop revolution missed us entirely. I … I guess. I don’t know.

Anyway, this is a roundabout way of going into an even more roundabout story of the discovery of my first blog, which was way back in 1999 before they were called blogs, and instead, the whole world called them home pages, I think. I don’t remember. Anyway, at the time, Adam had a blog, errr, home page, and maybe sort of, it was kind of how we got together, even though we already knew each other — and in fact, had known OF each other for many years — because we had already had our sort-of-maybe first date and were good friends.

(The net/net: I had a huge crush on him, read a post on his home … blog, whatever it was, that was this vague thing about this moment we had before we started dating, or so I thought maybe that’s what he was talking about, but I was all nerdy about it, but later it did turn out to be me — ME! — how about that? It was me! He liked me too! And that’s the geekiest thing I’ve ever said and I’m a little embarrassed for both of us. The only consolation is that we were 23 at the time, and prone to a little drama, I suppose. God. Someone save us from ourselves. He’s so going to kill me.)

(Which reminds me, did I ever tell you that he and I had a class together in college, although we didn’t meet until AFTER college, and that he was SO VOCAL and maybe a little annoying to me? Granted, the class was literary theory, and the key to getting an ‘A’ was to somehow seamlessly weave masturbation and Saussure into a paper, and I wish I was kidding. Anyway, it wasn’t until long after we were engaged that it came up that we were both in that godawful ETS 205 course that I started asking him if he remembered that guy in the back of our class and suddenly, I looked at his face and I knew. It was him. He was that guy from class. And if ever there was a time that life pretty much blew my fucking MIND, it was that moment. I married the really frustrated dude who sat in the back of my literary theory class. Life is nuts, man.)

(He got a better grade than I did.)

Back to the 1999 blog: a friend pointed me to Henry’s Diary, which was a precursor to the whole mommyblog movement, except it was a dude writing about his son, and although the format is nothing like today’s blogs, I kind of fell in love with Henry, as I’m sure you did. Did y’all read Henry’s Diary? Do you REMEMBER how cute it was? If not, go read it now from start to finish. Go. Or, you know, go in a minute or two after you’re done here.

God, I read about him religiously until his dad stopped posting in 2002. At the time, I was crushed, as it was the first blogger-type I’d ever known who stopped posting, and dude, how was I going to keep up with Henry? How could he do this to me?

Imagine if you were suddenly denied access to Leta Armstrong or Noah Storch. It was kind of like that, for me, except I didn’t have the wisdom of how the blogosphere works, because I didn’t know what a blog even was.

Randomly, yesterday, I thought about Henry, and through the magic of Google (it’s not a hard Google, given that everyone’s full names were available everywhere. Just in case, you know, I thought I was some kind of wild stalker-type and was disclosing info that wasn’t readily available), I was so happy to discover that Henry still exists on Flickr. And though this is perhaps redundant, because everyone probably knows this, it kind of made my weekend a little brighter, because Henry is 10! He’s a real, live boy who’s still growing up! Closure. Happy closure.

And yeah, um, I’m pretty sure, like all of the first blogger-types, Henry’s dad is all connected up in this technology piece and is, as of right this second, at a cocktail party with the entire founding team of Twitter AND Flickr.

(Update: A perusal in his Flickr contacts confirms that yep, he’s totally having brunch with the CEO of Twitter AND the founder of MetaFilter. And what, precisely, was I doing in 1999, when this was all starting? I was working for the Internet arm of a home shopping channel, who was going to revolutionize etailers by selling crocheted toilet seats via the Internet. God, it’s like I missed some kind of GIANT BOAT and instead opted to take the horse-drawn carriage. I mean, not that I’m unhappy, it’s just that do you remember when it was all so exciting? Remember?)

I am so lame. I know. Crocheted toilet seats.

Incidentally, from Henry’s Diary, I moved on to Television Without Pity, then Pamie (who was … Squishy, I think, then?) and my friend Amanda, who is no longer blogging, followed by Hashai, and it was a slippery, slippery slope, although I didn’t start blogging for any length of actual time or dedication until 2003, after about a frillion failed Diaryland accounts. And let’s all thank God that they’re failed and gone, because Jesus, I don’t think I have the intestinal fortitude to read about the ramblings of my 23-year-old self.

But anyway, my mind was BLOWN, just blown that Henry’s still around, and has hip glasses to boot. Yay, Henry!

So! Moving on. I feel much better, thank you, after sleeping the weekend away. And no, I didn’t make it to the wedding — a colleague talked me out of it, reminding me of the whole receiving line bit, and suddenly I became terrified — TERRIFIED — of infecting the bride and groom before they trucked off to their honeymoon, which would really have sucked for everyone involved, but mostly them. Plus, I really was sporting a fever and would have been sweaty, at best, and fainty and snotty at worst. However, I gave them a really nice gift, pronto. And I called the groom on Friday and sounded authentically wheezy and pathetic, because I pretty much was.

And I … I don’t know what the point of all of this was, other than to ramble, so I hope you had a great weekend. It’s almost Thanksgiving! And please, don’t get me started on our travel plans, which involve a whirlwind sub-48-hour trip to Syracuse, where it is actually snowing.

PS: This reminded me of one of my favorite comments sections, when Sundry asked where people started reading blogs, back when the Internet was oh-so-young. Check it out if you’re so inclined.

*The Shins.

Entry Filed under: Nuttin'