Our internet is all messed up at home, today (gosh, HOW UNUSUAL), and so I trundled off to my favorite coffee shop to steal borrow their internet. And really, after I pay $5 for a cup of coffee, I think I’m entitled to QUITE A LOT OF INTERNET.
Anyway, first I had to finish up some work that was due this morning. Done.
Then I had to do my regular Friday morning post for Want Not, because if I don’t, a rift will form in the space-time continuum and we are all doomed.
And then when all of THAT was done, I decided (even though I’m done with my coffee) that I could do a quick post for here, before I leave. But there’s a college kid standing behind me waiting for his coffee and totally READING WHAT I’M TYPING.
And you know, I’m a delicate flower with sensitive, private feelings. I can’t be having someone reading over my shoulder what I write for thousands of strangers to read. That would just be wrong.
Shut up.
HA! It would make me feel kind of weird, though. I’d be like “Dude, here’s the link. Check it out later, nosey rose!”
HA! But you aren’t sitting down with each of those strangers, face to face, to tell them about your day, so I think it makes total sense. Back off, kid!
I can’t stop laughing! Mir – hilarious! But I know what you mean. :)
The nerve of some people! ;)
That makes me laugh, yet I can see your point. Until I hit publish, no one else should be reading it!
Anne Lamott wrote about “sh*tty first drafts” and how when she wrote something particularly bad, she was afraid she’d get hit by a bus before revising it, and her loved ones would find the SFD and decide she’d lost her talent and jumped in front of the bus on purpose. My own first drafts aren’t always that bad, but dude, stop reading over my shoulder!
Nosey people piss me off.
Those damned internet fixer-people better get crackin’. We can’t have more than one single day of a post that fits on only one page. I think it’s a law. You may want to tell them that.
LOL- I even get irritated at my husband when I’m in “new post mode” and he’s all “What’s that picture?” and I snap – read it when it’s posted!!!!! who do you think you are -my spouse, father of my children and the only one who works?
How rude! Can’t he read about other people’s lives like the rest of us secretly in our homes on the Internet. I mean really how were these kids brought up? Sheesh!
Sort of the way I feel about someone I know in real life actually reading my blog (even though I know there’s nothing in there to offend him/her) – forget it, it’s private – just between me and hundreds of people I don’t know.
Heh. :) I hate it when someone is reading the comics over my shoulder, much less something I’m writing.
Thanks for the laugh.
Bwah!!!!!!
So, I wanna know what he did when you typed that you knew he was reading over your shoulder! C’mon, Paul Harvey, we want [insert deep voice here] “The Resssst … of the Story”!
You should’ve posted some steamy erotica. That’d learn ‘im.
No, no, no. You’re doing it wrong! When someone reads over your shoulder, that’s when you start typing something TRULY outrageous, about how once you killed a nosy over-the-shoulder reader in Reno just to see him die. And about how, then, you started setting up traps for nosy over-the-shoulder readers in coffee shops around the world, and how they always fall for it. And how NOW, very very now, you have a new victim on the hook. Then you turn around and flash an evil smile.
Oooooh, I really like Aimee’s plan. Do that!
Maybe he recognized you as that famous and wealthy blogger from the Today Show? (And pretty, don’t forget pretty!)
rotflmao – I love Aimee’s plan too. I, of course, would never think of it at the TIME of being read over my shoulder, but it would totally freak them out! LOL
LOL! Aimee’s idea is wonderful! And it’s just creepy to read over someone’s shoulder. ick.
It’s because you had your buckets of money sitting on the table with you, isn’t it?
I love opportunities like that. The real She Beast can come out. Maybe that’s why they call me Manic Mom! HA HA HA
Damn kids. MYOB PUNK!
Oh I just hate it when they do that! Could someone mention this to my children and husband?!!
It IS wrong and very creepy for someone to read over your shoulder! And I think we should all employ Aimee’s plan, because it is pure GENIUS.
Aimee sort of scares me. I’m one of those creepy over-the-shoulder-readers. but I’d try harder to not get caught!
(Hi, my name is Elizabeth and I read over shoulders – wha? not a self-help group? m-kay, gotta go!)
ARGH. I hate it when people do that. I’ve had people on the train lean over the seat to watch me write SQL.
Swear.
And one time, the guy actually said, “So, uh, is that, like, programming or something? Are you a programmer?”
I’m totally stealing Aimee’s idea.
Mir, have another cup of coffee.
I’m like a hitman in the coffee shops – my back must be against the wall, where I can see the doors and make sure no one can sneak up on me and slit my throat! Or, you know, peek at my blog.
Ha ha ha ha! I agree with Kristi and Aimee. They both seem like my kind of people.
You could always hand your link to the reader (you know you have blog cards) and say, “Here, you can read all about this in a few minutes!” and flash your brightest smile.
Oh Aimee in pure genious, and delightfully devious.
“MYOB Punk”….BWAHAHAHA
That would make me pissy.
Did you kick him? Or type something about him to get him to leave you alone? Damn punks!
you’re hilarious! but i totally understand as that would bug me too! But i’m terrible at reading over people’s shoulders, I’m so nosey!!!
that’s very “blogger” of you to be writing at a cafe… i am jealous!!!!
I hate it when people read over my shoulder, too. It’s just weird.
And he did see you type those very words, right?
THAT is one of my BIGGEST pet peeves, and I don’t know why.
That is not strange in the least. In fact, I’m exactly the same way. Even my kids looking over my shoulder I’m like, “What? Whaddya want?”
It’s a violation of privacy to have someone read over your shoulder. After all, they couldn’t know that you were writing for a public blog. And even if they knew, it’s not their…
erm, um, sorry. That’s one of my soapbox issues. It totally creeps me out to have someone read over my shoulder.
“Dude, what I’m writing is so not gonna help you with your finals….I know, I look genius-brilliant and all, but really this stuff is more like marriage/parenting prep, and you don’t look like that’s your major, mmm-kay?”
Do you think maybe he RECOGNIZED you from television????
I CANNOT type if someone is watching me. I can’t even write if my partner is watching me!
Too funny, yet I’d feel the same way. Even though I AM an over-the-shoulder reader!
Sorry, it’s compulsive I see stuff in print, I gotta read it. Even if it’s in another language and I don’t even know what I’m reading. It’s an illness, I know.
Just like Brigitte. If my eyes focus on words I read them. Even the same box of cereal for the 15th time. Like hearing, can’t help it.
But also, it bothers me to have my unedited stuff read, also to practice music where people can hear… I want it ready before it goes public.
I don’t even want to think about how many people are reading my blog. I mean, if I don’t see their faces, I’m fine to share all sorts of ridiculously personal information.
Having Comcastic flashbacks? Hope they get you all wired up again quickly.
My former boss used to come in and read over my shoulder. (Dude! Personal space?) Knowing that he was super sensitive to smells, I kept some really crappy perfume in my drawer. On days when he was being all needy-read-y, I would just dab on a bit.
It’s not public until I say it’s public!!! I don’t like anyone reading what I’m typing. And I REALLY don’t like standing over someone else reading what he is typing. Or standing over someone else telling him how to navigate. Because clearly he will not click what I want him to click when I want him to click it. Just move over and let me take the wheel. Digression…
My senior year, I took Intro to Psych, which was a huge lecture, with about 100 freshmen and me. This one guy sat in front of me all semester and IMed his way through every class. At first I tried to ignore it, but by the end it was too hilarious. He referred to himself as “The Stud” and bragged about his prowess with the ladies. The girls who sat on either side of me knew some of the women he was talking about and whispered that he was a blatant liar. Maybe I should feel bad, but I don’t.