If you are reading this brand-new blog wherein I'm going to express my feelings in my usual way, which is to pretend I don't have any and make fun of everything;
that means that you are in quite an exclusive group.
This is sort of like the diary I never filled in. Oh sure, people got me diaries for every fucking birthday, because they figured smart kids want diaries.
My mom got me this one that had Eleanor Roosevelt on the cover, and the title said "A Young Woman's Journal" in really fancy letters. Needless to say, being 9 at the time, I found this terrifying. "Young Woman"? I mean is this thing going to make me start my period? And what's with this big teeth lady? What exactly is my mom trying to tell me here?
Well, I would write one or two entries about what "boy" I had a crush on that week, and leave it lying around in a conspicuous manner for friends to find, never or rarely to be written in again.
So, Gentle Reader, please don't go flitting about the countryside telling everyone about this blog- I know temptation may be strong...
Unless of course, you happen to be in the publishing business, in which case I invite you to send a link to everyone you've ever met.
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