The media is fascinating... to people in the media. Since they have agency to do so, though, navel-gazing journo types are often foisting slapdash memoirs or trashy novels or plays about what it's like inside their rarefied, obnoxious bubble upon a weary populace. Why just recently a former Rush & Molloy scribe named Patrick Huguenin wrote a play called Paper Dolls-that will be performed at New York's increasingly irritating Fringe Festival-about a print gossip columnist who has the gossip tables turned on her. Apparently there is some sort mention of print vs. blog tensions, which makes us wonder: what would a play about blogging be like? (And no, we do not count that stupid Perez Hilton Saves the Universe and Looks Stupid Doing It or whatever that dumb thing is called.) We'll take a stab at it after the jump. [Lights up on a couch. It is nearing a state one could call "ratty." There is a coffee table littered with old magazines and bits of marijuana. A man, BLOB, shuffles on. Blob sits down on the couch and reaches underneath it. He pulls out a laptop computer. Opens it on the table. He scratches his head. Types a little. Maybe chuckles once or twice. He looks as though he's just about to fall asleep, but never quite does. At times he types furiously, at others he just balances the computer precariously on his knees and watches some sort of video on the computer screen. This continues for eight hours. Finally he closes the computer and sits back in the couch. He closes his eyes. A roommate, BEBE, enters. She drops her bag on the floor.] BEBE: Hey. How was your day? BLOB: Eh. BEBE: Did you get out at all? BLOB: No. BEBE: You should, it's really nice out. [Blob nods his head and does a weak attempt at a thumbs-up.] BEBE: Let's open the curtains here... [She goes to open the curtains, Blob reacts violently with a series of grunts and moans.] BEBE: Fine. Fine. Well, what are you doing tonight? [Blob gets up. Shuffles off stage. He soon returns with a beer (or glass of wine or cocktail) and sits back down on the couch.] BEBE: Aha. BLOB: Did you get batteries for the remote? [Bebe sighs. Picks her bag up, digs around. Pulls out a pack of batteries, tosses it on the coffee table.] BLOB: Great, thanks. BEBE: Well... Uh, well I guess I'm going to... go... this way now. BLOB. Mm. BEBE: You know you should probably- [She stops herself, sighs again. Blob doesn't notice. She exits. Blob sits still for a moment, then reaches for the computer. Opens it up again. The lights fade and all that is left is the blue glow of the monitor illuminating his sallow, ashen face. This continues for years and years and years. End of play.] That is some pretty exciting stuff, right? Continue the play in the comments below if you care to.