I'm in my bathroom and hear a noise that can only be described as (a) a tap dancer lives above me, or (b) water is rushing in the wall. I prefer the (a) explanation and decide to ignore it to play on the Internet and write my first diary entry.

Ah, the Internet. First introduced to my life many years ago by my dad, of all people. When I bought my first computer and brought it home to sit proudly in my parents' kitchen, my dad asked "What the hell can we do with that?" Slowly, the question turned into "What the hell can't we do with that?" What he lacked in technical expertise, he more than made up for with the bravado of a man that thought "I only gotta point and click, right?" Through TV commercials, Dad had heard of the "internet" and decided our family needed to join in the "world wide web." He came through the door and announced, "The guy said all we gotta do is put this on the computer and we're on the Internet." Being more of a big thinker than a details guy, he threw the diskettes at me and said, "Put this on the computer." I dutifully loaded the program and he was off. He LOVED the Internet! It was full of Republican insights not garnered by our local small-town newspaper. Chat rooms were filled with persons that shared his enthusiasm for fire arms. This was way better than his CB radio.

Not that I'm any better. I pay twenty bucks a month so I can send emails to people I don't want to talk to on the phone and read the blogs of my "Internet friends." It amazes me...I now have "friends" that I have never nor will ever meet in person. Yet, we carry on "conversations" like we've know each other for years. I find myself getting worried if someone doesn't post for a few days, like there was some emergency I've missed. Then, the relief when they post again ("sorry, I was on vacation for a week") is greater than anything I've experienced with real-life people.

And I am, of course, a good thirty pounds lighter on the Internet. And, I look suspiciously like Cindy Crawford.