I wish I could talk about my job, my life, my dreams. I envy all of you bloggers who have the balls to reveal your true selves.
In reality, I'm in my (damn sexy) underwear milking inspiration from Lagavulin and Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies.
But one day you'll know the real me, after I publish my tell-all tale of drug-fueled sex romps with Martin Sheen, Mr. Snuffleupagus, Carly Simon, Squirtle, Rue McClanahan, Catherine Ringer (how freaking obscure can I get?) and Charlie that a-hole owl from the New Zoo Revue.
Seriously, I try to catch your stuff, like tonight I was reading French School Confidential. And if I were able to have friends without Mr. Snuffleupagus getting all jealous and killing them, she might be my friend. [Effing sheds a tear.]
Who is it who said, Don't Drink and Blog? Actually, quite of few of you. Damn, shoulda listened.