As excited as I am to go back to work, I have to admit that I really wish I could have made this blog my career. Especially after I took the time to read some books that -were no doubt- successful versions of what I do here each week. In my almost year as a blogger, I have found that my writing is the literary equivalent to junk food. It's good and sometimes down right delicious (if I do say so myself), but really it has no substance. Much like a super sized bag of M&M's- my work will make you ill if not taken in with moderation. I think it's even possible that reading my blogs will give you a fat ass. Don't quote me on that, but when you're done reading this it might be wise for you to run a lap- chances are you could use the cardio anyway.
The point I'm so long-windedly making is that this literary junk food sells when you're already famous. Look at Chelsea Handler. She just released "Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang" and it was a hit. There was nothing special about it. It was funny and filled with stories about her obnoxious father, ridiculous friends and -my favorite- her finding a love for masturbation at the age of eight. But as always when I was finished reading, I sat slack jawed and thought, "Are you kidding me?" This is the crap that gets people on the New York Times best seller list. I have all of these ingredients and then some. Not that I'm trying to one up Chelsea but, my father is absolutely out of his mind- you know he is- you read his contribution. My friends- well I don't have many of those, but my stories about my crabby grandmother and my 28 year-old man child (AKA my husband) fill that space perfectly. And as for childhood masturbation...Please! I'm the only person on this earth that thinks she had a good childhood and trust me it's not my nut job parents I'm thanking for that- it's the man in the boat. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that you're welcome readers for all the freebie's and thanks for nothing mom and dad. Why couldn't you have been stage parents? If you would have just pushed me really hard at something- all in a effort to live vicariously through my achievements- I could have been famous. Possibly even writing books for money. Instead, I'm a blogger. Monkeys scratching their balls while sitting on a tire swing at the zoo get more hits in a day than my website ever will in a year. Hope you're proud.
**Just wanted everyone to know that the only thing that is keeping me from shutting this blog down right now, is the fact that to a few people out there, I am that ball scratching monkey. One that misspells every third word and uses obscenities like chocolate chips in her junk food stories. For those two people, bon apatite!