Highly addictive reading found in online blogs

Melissa Sewell

Never heard of a blog? You might as well be driving a Model T. So-and-sos write about their lives on the Internet. They are good writers. They become better writers. Maybe their lives are just incredibly interesting. Either way, they are linked to, linked to and linked to until they become the Brad Pitt of the Internet. Thousands hang on their every word. First they are interviewed by Internet newspapers, then real newspapers and then Glamour Magazine. Ta-da! Book deal!

If you’re still put-putting in that Model T, here are a few famous bloggers that will bring you up to speed.


Missed a birth control pill? Could be that you took two on one day by mistake. That, or if you ask Wendy McClure, maybe you’ve traversed a wormhole and then space curved back over on itself. Or one of your other pill-taking personalities popped one. Could be that you’ve forgotten to align your cycle with the Gregorian calendar and missed a leap-week pill. Read the blog, just don’t use it for medical advice. The emergency can’t be fixed by flying backwards to Japan.

McClure’s fame is no accident. This Chicago resident attended Iowa State University, and now writes for a popular magazine. She counts Weight Watcher points, she liked that penguin movie and she has a dirty, dirty potty mouth.


You shouldn’t be surprised if this woman’s blog pops up in next year’s Merriam Webster. “Dooce,” according to the urban dictionary, is a verb that means, “to be fired from your job because of the contents of your weblog.” In context: “Dude, did you hear what happened to Mary? She got dooced.”

Heather Graham is perhaps the most popular blogger that the Internet has seen. Shortly after being fired, her husband also quit his job. The couple and their 3-year-old daughter, Leta, live off of the popularity of Graham’s daily musings about child-rearing, nacho cheese Doritos and TiVo. The ads on Graham’s Web site coupled with the daily influx of visitors pays for their home, their car, their groceries and even Graham’s Zoloft prescription.

If anything, reading Dooce will teach you to never ever get pregnant and for chrissakes, do not ever have children.


Although there are few places in Topeka with $30 entrees, the waiter population will have no trouble identifying the archetypal characters in this anonymous Manhattan waiter’s blog. Take, for example, the bevy of customers who have never heard of the word “please,” or “thank you,” the procrastinators that have no reservation but would like a table for 15 or the penny-pinching maniacs that insist they shouldn’t have to pay for their 18th soda refill.

The writer tells a story of giving a customer the Heimlich maneuver, and receiving only a 10 percent tip. “Next time I let him die!” he rages.

Probably none of these customers, anywhere, have any idea of the rays of hatred that servers daily send their way. But it sure does feel good to have a laugh at their expense.


This blog tells the story of a white guy working as a “translator/proofreader/English-speaking monkey” for a company in Japan. The basis is pretty simple; the resulting situations are hilarious.

Jeff’s American upbringing makes him privy to many of the habits that make Japan so different. In recent entries, this blogger discusses funky tap-dancing street musicians, kowtowing for forgiveness and pop music floozies.

If you have time, you should also peruse conbinibento’s large collection of pictures. One section documents Japan’s tobacco “smoking manners” advertising campaign, which kindly asks smokers, “Would you stick a cigarette butt in the snowman that your child built?” and reminds them, “The cool cowboy flicks his cigarette butt into the street. But he lives in an old movie.”