September 02, 2004 6:57 PM- Archie does Atlanta
(Pictured above is the lovely Miss Doxie (in pink)
with her cracker-eating posse)
Blathmac Blather, Ireland?s best blog reportage
It?s not often that Dublin?s own Archie Belemus scores. But the kilt-wearing, redhead may actually get that dental work he?s been needing because he has landed an interview with none other than the veritable Artemis of the blog sphere: Miss Doxie.
A.B.: Are you hungover?
M.D.: Why? Yes? Can you tell? I smell good!
A.B.: What is your company policy about arriving at work hungover? And who has drunken dinner parties on a Wednesday night, anyway?
M.D.: We are a very "don't ask, don't tell" kind of establishment. Except I totally tell. Everyone. At length. Repeatedly. And what's so bad about Wednesday night parties? Are you my mom?
A.B.: Do I look like your mom? Do you need a mother figure in your life?
M.D: Dude, my mom is hot. She'll kick your ass.
A.B: (interested) Does she like British men?
M.D: Perv. She likes my Daddy.
A.B.: Fair enough. Back to your wild partying. And I trust last night was up to par on the wild front---- cracker eating, dog tripping, sing-alongs?
M.D: Wait, was there singing? I don't remember any singing. There may have been singing. I made spaghetti! And then things get murky.
A.B.: You cook?
M.D.: Apparently, I can make spaghetti. As far as I know, nobody died.
A.B.: How about cocktails? Any specialities on that front you can whip up?
M.D.: El Dukay is in charge of cocktails. He makes chocolate martinis and then everyone wants to go to bed with him. He can also do card tricks and count to ten in Spanish!
A.B.: Oh my god. I don't stand a chance with you, do I?
M.D.: Not a snowball. In heck.
A.B.: Bugger. Well, I've heard there's a movement to get cracker eating into the Olympic realm. Would you be willing to chew and swallow for the US team?
M.D.: Well...see, the cracker contest is all about spit. And mind control. And spit. And unfortunately, I am not very spitty. I can't lie. I suck at the cracker contest. But I could coach!
A.B.: Excellent. Who would you pick for your team and how many players are on a regulation cracker eating team?
M.D.: I think you need at least three. I choose Sarah B and Ed, because they're the spittiest. And El Dukay, because he's got such a fine heinie. That doesn't have a lot to do with crackers, but it's my team and I get to decide.
A.B.: Impartiality is not your strong suit.
M.D.: What can I say? What a girl wants, baby.
A.B. But hey-- I have no doubt that you will have the coolest uniforms.
M.D.: Uniforms that show off fine heinies!
A.B.: So, Miss Doxie-- your escapades are the stuff Hollywood dreams of. If a film was to made of your life--- who would direct? Who would play El Dukay? And most importantly, who would take on the role of Miss Doxie, herself?
M.D.: If we were a movie? Okay, well, my sister, who is a director, would direct it. Because if I asked anyone else, she would murder me in my sleep. If I get to choose who plays me, I'm totally saying Angelina Jolie, because she's hot. For El Dukay...that's tough. He doesn't look like anyone, and he doesn't act like anyone. I'm stumped. Can I say "Monkey"?
A.B.: Basically you are saying that your boyfriend is hotter than any Hollywood hottie.
M.D.: Um. Yes. That is exactly what I'm saying.
A.B.: Damn. That's hot. If you were ever to marry, hypothetically of course, would you become Mrs. El Dukay or would he become Mr. Doxie? Please tell us you would not do the dreaded El Dukay-Doxie hyphen.
M.D.: I'll always be Miss Doxie. But if he marries me, I will probably start referring to him as "That Shithead Who Ate All The Fucking Pie." Or possibly "Darling Boy Who Buys Me Diamonds." It's up to him, really.
A.B.: You are one witty, witty wonder----are you quite sure you don't want to take up with someone new?
M.D.: You sly dog. No.
A.B.: We all know you are a sensational lawyer, but if you were to have another career at some future point in life-- what else would interest you?
M.D.: If I weren't a lawyer, I'd probably be an artist. Or a writer. Or a writer artist. Or a spaceman. I have no idea.
AB: Can you share with us a little bit of how you stumbled into blogging? Do you remember the first blog you ever read?
M.D.: Well, I went through college and law school with no internet knowledge whatsoever. Then I started my job, and for a few months, there wasn't much for me to do. I just sat there all day, and tried to look busy. So I started poking around on the ol' innernet. After about a month, I figured I had managed to read everything in the world that had ever been written by anyone at any time ever, Amen. But then I somehow, somehow stumbled onto MATH+1, and then to Hannah's site, and then AB's and Allison's sites, and I was amazed that these people were like, WRITING, and it was ONLINE, and O SO CLEVER. And then I got all hyped up and decided to make one myself, because hello, I HAD NOTHING ELSE TO DO. And there you go.
A.B.: And God said, let there be light. And so it was.
M.D.: And it was good!
A.B.: Would you ever want to live in New York City?
M.D.: I love New York, but I doubt I'd ever live there. I've got a lot of roots in Atlanta. It's where my parents are, and my friends, and El Dukay. Also, I need some space and a backyard for the heathen animals. I mean, what would I do with the dogs in New York? How would I even get them there? Do dachshunds fit in packing tubes? There are too many questions.
A.B.: Is it true you have dachsunds because of their short legs they don't need to be walked?
M.D.: Ha. No. I don't walk them, though. The confusion alone would make their little heads explode. They have a huge fenced-in back yard, and they will chase each other, and me, and Dukay, for hours. And apparently, THIS NEVER GETS OLD.
A.B.: Well, that it's then. Thanks again for your time. I do hope our little meeting doesn't stir up the jealousy with old El Dukay now. Have I mentioned you have great legs? Fancy a drink?
M.D.: El Dukay is going to kick your ass to Thursday. Did I mention he knows card tricks?
A.B.: I'll take that as a no.
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