Hey, kid, rock & roll, blog on

My friend Sparky thinks blogging is pretentious, and I think he's right. I invited him to the GTA Bloggers Christmas Party last night, but he declined, saying, "Trust me, when it comes to sheer pretension I doubt anyone at that party can hold a candle to yours truly. And I don't even blog."

Oh, I trust you, Sparks! But you may be wrong about that...

The Bored Astronaut, for example, has a pretty big candle. The Internet exists, says a recent posting, to bring us his narcissism. You might think that's just a clever line, not so different from "We are living in a postmodern world, and I am a postmodern girl," unless you'd met him in person. He wasn't so bored, though, when I told him I know a real astronaut, Terry Wong.

Gee Kent (that's G. Kent, or Geek-ent, depending on how clever you are) who staked out his territory, leaning against the kitchen counter, and didn't budge all night, is another patron of the candelabra. Every time I went into the kitchen to use the bottle opener (I don't drink twist-offs) I had to reach around him. Despite his name, after conversing with him I'd say he's more of a wonk on the geek-wonk/nerd-cool positioning map. (Me, I like to think I'm exactly where Tina Fey is. But then, I also like to think I'm 29.)

Are we all pretentious? Are we a cadre of nerds? Are we woebegone wonks, just wanking off?

What is it about bloggers that drives us to blog? What is it that compels us into the friendly competition today to see who'll blog whom first?

Samantha wins: she was posting comments, quotes, and pictures on her site, Blog on Blog, at 2:15 this morning. She and I bonded over bitching that we had both come early to the party to catch David Akin, who didn't show up, the bastard. Cute bastard, though, we agreed.

Out front on the smoking patio, happily hammered, Liz Vang proved she could walk up the stairs without falling down by walking up the stairs without falling down. I doubt she'll be posting today.

Christie comes in a close second, posting at 4:00 a.m. I met her only as she was leaving — on the way out she complimented me on my go-go dress from the last Accordion Guy party. Thanks, Christie! I hope you get your Vespa some day. Did you really get your car towed? I learned my lesson after the last party, when I got a $20 ticket parking on Joey's street. Last night, I took the TTC.

Leah, better known as the Gay Penguin, taught me about homosexuality in animals. She used to live in New York, and tells me there are gay penguins in the Central Park Zoo, that same-sex bonding is quite common in birds, and in giraffes (Giraffes neck. Can you stand it?), and that two of her high school classmates were murdered before graduation.

Min Jung, who came from San Francisco for the party, just looked like she was bored with all of us.

I liked Crazy Joan. Her blog is Freak Girl's Pew. Or is it Freak Girl Spew? I like her blog philosophy, too: "I do not blog politic, I do not blog to gain approval or popularity...What I am trying to do is communicate." I was drawn into her conversation when I heard the name Christian Bale, an underrated and overpretentious actor I happen to know more about than I really care to, because an old friend of mine has been his publicist for more than ten years. Sorry to have taken your movie hero down a few notches, Joan. And I didn't even tell you the story about him holding his friend's penis while he peed in his pool.

I learned about the Hell's Angels from a woman who's name I don't remember, but who had a great t-shirt that read, Do I Look Like A Fucking People Person?

Yes, we had nametags. Mine wouldn't stick to my beaded top. I discovered it later, stuck neatly to the floor in front of the beer-loaded bathtub, as though it were identifying the contents as belonging to Postmodern Sass. I wish I'd had a camera.

Rannie the Photojunkie posted his party album on Saturday afternoon. Winona the Elf flitted around the party, climbing on furniture and walls to take pictures. (Her pictures are posted here.) Irina was taking pictures, too.

Back in the kitchen, I was rescued from a palavar on black holes with Gee and Bored by the sound of Joey's accordion. Accordion Guy performed Head Like A Hole, You Shook Me, and that Bloodhound Gang song about doing it like they do on the Discovery Channel.

And yes, Virginia, there was karaoke. We tried to find songs that would allow substitution of the word blog in the lyrics. But the system overheated, so it didn't last very long.

So are we pretentious?

You bet.

Hey, kid, blog is Merriam-Webster's word of the year for 2004.

* * *
In the next story Postmodern Sass introduces you to Jack. You'll be reading a lot more about him next year.