Apparently, your husband may take things the wrong way when you start excitedly telling him, "Oh my god, I have two new followers!"
Considering my strong (borderline militant) aversion to religion, it really shouldn't be put past me to start a cult, which he's convinced I've done following my message board exodus (HOLLA at the 9th!). That, and hey, I WAS a sorority president. Which is basically the same thing since it also involves robes, candles, secret rituals, drinking essentially toxic substances and puking a lot.
Or it could mean that I have followers on Twitter. Which let me say right now: NO. I have absolutely no interest in Twitter. I think it's ridiculous. I have MySpace, I have Facebook (and I had Facebook when it FIRST came out, when it was just for college students, and all of my aunts-in-law couldn't find me, friend me, and then cluck their tongues disapprovingly while I use the F-bomb freely and describe my bowel movements in far too much detail). I refuse to get Twitter. If that makes me an old fogey, fine. I don't get kids today, I guess. I'm old and out of touch. (For the record, I am 23. Jesus Christ, I'm almost 24.... I'm getting old.)
Okay, so the "followers" I was referencing were the followers of this blog. It makes me happy. I'm a tempermental blogger; I am pissy about my op-ed writing, always have been, and just about every post you see has gone through a rigorous routine of, "Shit. That's not funny. That's stupid. Why in the fuck would anyone read this? God, I'm retarded. Why do I even blog? Who even cares?"
But apparently two new people care, which is pretty cool. So hi. You guys rock. The people who read this blog regularly, whether or not I actually know you and/or am related to you (which constitutes approximately 50% of this blog's readership), make me SQUEE with narcissisic glee.
One of the new followers is a kickass chick by the name of Kayla Linzy, and holy balls, I wish I was as cool as this chick when I was 17. (Which was all of, like, six years ago?) So her blog is cool and you should go there.
Anyway. For the people who stop by and read, thanks. For the people who comment, thank you thank you. I suck at responding to comments, but I do read them and appreciate all the commiseration and advice. Sometimes it's nice to know I'm still entertaining people, besides my husband, who is usually more embarrassed by my latest ventures into screaming at fast-food employees (only the rude ones), vandalizing neighbors' WRONG political opinions, and dancing like a 21-year-old club slut around the house.
I don't know what I'm saying. I'm still vomiting out my mouth and out my butthole, and apparently verbal vomit is also included. Also, I'm really dehydrated and probably hallucinating.
12 hours ago
4 comments:
Technically, not a new follower. I've been reading your blog since you were officially Prego. Found you on Bitter Waitress and thought you were hysterical. Been reading you religiously ever since. Only just got around to thinking out loud on a blog. I left you a few comments before as Caroline and Anonymous because half the time I couldn't be bothered to remember by google account. Hope you're feeling better.
Ah-HAH, that's who you are. Whenever you mention Alligator I figured who you were (as far as "regular blog readers" go). I didn't realize you were Caroline, too. Or maybe I did. I don't know. I'm half stupid most days. Anyway, I'm glad you come by!
Whoaaaaa. Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. You actually mentioned meeee?! On my dashboard, I saw you had a new post, so I was like, "Yes, another post about the notorious Punky!" But then I started reading the brief beginning on my homepage and I saw "two new followers." (Oh, that's me!) I didn't realize you'd dedicate, like, a whole paragraph to me! That's wicked!
Because I feel so special instead of thanking you here, I'll thank you on my blog, and hopefully get some more visitors and followers your way. (:
I think most husbands would be thrilled if their hawt wife danced around the house like a 21 year old club slut. Unless you're a 29 year old pregnant broad like myself, in which case most husbands just thank god for dimmed lights...
You seem to be feeling a bit better, that makes me happy. :)
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