Her Mind Lay Open Like A Drawer Full of Knives

I am sick of people who think my blog exists to make them famous. I have lost count of the amount of times people have said to me: 'Hmmm, Lucy- I found your blog the other day and I am sad to say I am not mentioned once. Not even a short poem. What is up with this?'

This is my blog! It is me who puts in all the long hours on it, primping and preening to make it perfect for you ungrateful oiks! It is me who came up with the brilliant name; It is me who woke up one morning and said 'Hmmm, I like orange...'; It is me who faithfully gets drunk at regular intervals to have something to write about. I think you mistake the purpose of all blogs everywhere, namely in assuming you should be mentioned in one. The only person a blogger likes to talk about is himself. The entire existence of blogs is based on the self-serving narcissistic principle that people you don't know want to read about your dull life. My dull life that is, not yours. Yours isn't worth reading about as it isn't on the internet. Mine is.