I Was a Teenage Dodo- a Yelp True Story

About a year ago some of my Yelp pals and I decided to create fake profiles just to interrupt the monotony of everyday computing. First off, for those not in the know, Yelp is the premier user generated review site that focuses on dining and other services. Their IPO is set to make a big splash soon (Or it's already happened. I don't keep up with it day to day). This is a huge step for the scrappy San Fran tech startup that is basically a place where socially awkward young folks talk about the various ways they would eat bacon out of their own assholes. It can be pretty bland most of the time. Multiple reviews of the same ten hot restaurants in town. And the Rock Hall. So enter fake reviewers. Some were too wild and were dispatched right away. Like Marisa the party girl who would proposition practically every male on the message boards. Second to go was a guido who had about three catch phrases he would use in every review. He lasted a couple months. Last was an antagonist young emo-ish girl. We had our fun, no harm done. But then there was Doreen.

She was my personal creation. A blond Warren, Ohio born NASCAR reporter with a love for craft beer, movie car chases and dumping guys. I have no idea where all the details came from. They just sort of happened. But the more reviews I wrote as "Dodo", and interactions on message boards, the more she felt real. She was so damn cool I almost wish she had been real. We would have been besties. In fact, the pic of us together is actually a pic of Kate Gosselin's ex with some random girl he partied with(with my face cleverly, but sloppily, in his stead). Was it the funniest hoax ever? God, no. I took fleshing her character out so seriously that I kind of moved past the whole point of having fake profiles in the first place- laughs. I don't think many people caught on, as I tried to make her as believable as possible. This is evidenced by me actually watching NASCAR for an entire season for background info(much to the chagrin of my wife). I kind of got into racing for a bit, but now I will never watch it again. Or will I...?

Tons of people have fake personas online. Especially on Twitter. But Yelpers are so painfully serious that I think in that community it is rare. Dodo lasted about eight months before I pulled her plug out of boredom. I had accomplished what I set out to do. But now I kind of miss her. Some feel posting fake reviews is detrimental to the questionable validity of Yelp itself. I sort of agree. Which is why fifty or so of her reviews were actually my own that I "gave" to her. They were real experiences, just by me, not her. Except for the five or so about NASCAR. Those never happened. My ultimate goal was to get her promoted to Elite status and maybe have people waiting around for her at events. That never happened. Maybe people knew? I doubt it. I never received any threatening emails about fake profiles(as others had). She was almost so believable that no one even batted an eye when she mentioned me in reviews or posts. Some of my not so close Yelp pals were genuinely shocked to learn she wasn't real. In the end, what this post is really about, is to honor the memory of dear sweet Doreen. Fuck Whitney Houston. Right now I miss that spunky stock car enthusiast/ shopaholic more than any real piece of shit celebrity(or relative, for that matter).


It is very liberating to have a fake online persona. You can say things you'd never say, live events you never lived. Inspire masturbatory fantasies for people you would never really want to know. My regret is I never got a penis pic in her email. That would have made her legit. Like that other completely worthless media fabrication, Nicki Minaj.

Burlesque Boulevard

I'd kind of run out of tasteless things to write about since the fall, but a night time cruise for some Arby's (that's a pretty good jumping off point for crap right there) inspired me to get back in the groove. The Arby's in question is on the smuttiest road in Cleveland. Brookpark Road, which runs from just west of Hopkins airport all the way east to the Cuyahoga divide. The particular area just east of the airport is home to about a half dozen(or more if I'm just not paying attention) strip clubs and a handful of adult book stores. It's a very high concentration of erotica in a mere maybe two mile span. You have the Crazy Horse(named after the great Indian chief), the Platinum Horse(named after his flashy cousin), the Gi Gi Lounge(with transplanted Parisian house band, the Belles du Fromage), Amber's, and others that I can't remember that keep changing names anyway. The only other slutty area of town would be the flats, the shaven butthole of downtown Cleveland.

This road has been like this since I was a wee lad, and I reckon some time before that. Is it the proximity to the airport, with it's weary business travelers and transient ne'er do wells that breeze through town and require jiggly entertainment that explains this phenomenon? Or is it the city of Brook Park's complete lack of morality that gives Spreadeagle Street carte blanche to peddle it's triple D delights? The best part is driving through during the lunch hour and seeing half dressed former cheerleaders on smoke breaks in the parking lots. I of course, have no moral objection to this form of business. I love titties, everyone does. I just don't get the whole culture. I've never been to a strip club. I've been to a couple adult book stores( I needed, er, Sports Illustrated, which they sell). Mind you, that was pre- internet. How, in the age of free cyber anything, do men feel compelled to take their hard earned tens of dollars and give them away to a girl (working her way through law school) just for a boner chaffing seat samba is beyond me. Again, I don't judge. Everyone has a right to earn a living(except nightly news anchors and hack morning radio hosts), and everyone has the right to explore their every sexual whimsy( except furries). I guess I'm just a cheap skate.

Anyhow, another regional treasure are the "Asian spas" out in Warren, a crap town just outside of Youngstown. There are a glut of them out there. And only there. Why, I have no idea. Never been to one of these either, but I am pretty sure happy ending is on the menu. Maybe not. I don't do a whole lot of research when I write. I'm just going off memory and gut instinct. What I don't get is why all massage parlors have to be Asian. Does no other race of people have the ability to flip someone over and "launch the shuttle Endeavor"? I include the featured photo, because I just watched Eddie Murphy's Golden Child for the first time today, and this lady was in it. Eddie, a man who likes his trannies, would probably dig Warren.

Out in Lake County, where I grew up, there was the stray strip club every few freeway exits. But they never really lasted or built up a reputation. We had a popular adult book store where the current Lake County Captains stadium is located throughout my adolescence. However, it had to be outlawed before the family friendly arena of sub par athletics could be built. Now that side of town is serviced by the franchisey Adult Mart, which has several outposts in the greater metro area. This store is the sanitized, allegedly female friendly, one stop shop for bachelorette parties. I guess they have really wide loading docks to accommodate the shipments of fourteen inch dildos and fourteen inch wide Jenna Jameson rubber vaginas that need to be forklifted in. Slightly less skeevy than True Romance parties.


One thing I was pissed about during my first and only visit to NYC, was how the vaunted Time's Square of my comic book reading and Night Court watching childhood, had been whitewashed into a Disney doldrums of Swatch and Virgin stores. Where was the smut? The neon signs advertising "shoot spitballs at the girl of your choice"? Economically, I guess it was a boon to New York. But it really illustrated to me, how times have changed. I guess then I should take pride in my little Gomorrah by the airport. It's far less evil than Best Buy or Ruby Tuesdays.