Confessions of a Chronically Clueless Pop Culture Flunkie

I am the last person on earth to whom my friends come for updates in the world of superstars, television, movies, music, entertainment or anything else that might be labeled as "pop culture." In fact, one friend felt I was so chronically clueless that every new CD she purchased was immediately shared with me (in hopes, I'm sure of dragging me, even kicking and screaming, out of my black hole of cluelessness).

My entire knowledge of pop culture happenings comes from reading the tabloids in the supermarket checkout lines (yes, I confess, I actually avoid the "child friendly candy- and tabloid-free lines - how else am I going to get my dose of gossip?). Considering that I typically visit the grocery store twice a month - and I only ready the headlines on the outside of the magazines - it's a pretty sad commentary on the state of my interest in, and knowledge of, pop culture.

To be fair to myself, I can generally hold my own in conversations surrounding politics, business, economics (thanks solely to NPR), front page news and even sports (especially if it involves college football or basketball), but don't expect me to even know what movies are playing (or, heaven forbid, even opening) at the local theater tonight or who is dating whom in Hollywood.

So, when I caught myself typing a commentary to a PR associate today about the way YouTube is revolutionizing the media landscape (YouTube is Set to Surpass BBC in UK Visits or YouTube and CNN set to Revolutionize Presidential Debates for instance), I had to stop and chuckle. Confession: I've never even visited YouTube.

My entire world at the new job (I'll call it "The Factory" to protect the employed) revolves now around the pop culture of the Internet world. And guess what? I'm just as woefully clueless in that arena. I can talk trends, movements, demographics, business transactions and implications. I can sell you our technology, market it and sound intelligent, but I couldn't tell you whether MySpace or Friendster is the moment's coolest place to be. Which is probably an embarrassing admission, because The Factory specializes in reaching targeted audiences on social networking or "commutainment" sites like those. The sites are not even blocked on our server (then again, we don't have a dress code, so judge for yourself) because we have to be able to visit them to demonstrate our technology in action. Yesterday I found out, I am the ONLY PERSON in the ENTIRE company who:

*Doesn't have a MySpace page (or Friendster or FaceBook or whatever the latest hot spot is)
*Has never even visited MySpace (or YouTube, as I just confessed)
*Doesn't have an iPod or an iTunes account (the iTunes account is soon to be remedied - I work on a Mac, it's almost required in such an instance)
*Still thinks Internet Explorer is the only web browser worth having (Hello! Case in point - I'm using Safari, with which Blogger's tools aren't compatible, so I have to hand-code anything I want in here)
*There's more, but enough of the embarrassing confessions.

(Again, in my defense, The Factory doesn't even have enough people to have a full football team with a second-string backup).

I'm not completely abnormal. I am not Web-stupid, unless it falls under pop culture. My mother would tell you I've always been this way (the only notable 80s network program I ever watched was The Cosby Show, making me a source of intrique among my college roommates) because I was born old. I have bought a new-release CD in the last year (I'll ignore the fact that it was the soundtrack to Gray's Anatomy). I've never NEEDED to be on MySpace (though that will be rectified - since social networking sites are part of our inherent success at The Factory). I am older than 20. And I really have good intentions of going to the movies, but I tend to fall asleep, so it always ends up being a waste of money. And I just told you that I do read the tabloid headlines - so I have some inkling of what is going on.

I'm waiting for the day when a MySpace (or similar social networking page) is mandatory for employees at The Factory. Then again, it will probably come the day I fail to be the most over-dressed person in the office, which will only happen if a) we ever end up with a dress code (which will mean we probably have an Internet policy as well) or b) I shrug off my "East Coast Basic Black" persona, which is even less likely to happen.

Maybe The Factory will reform me. My CD-sharing friend would be so proud.