I won’t.
I won’t.
Me: “What’s a good way to get more blog followers?”
Guy: “Post a nude photo.”
Me: “Ok, like something I would actually do.”
Guy: “Waist-up nude photo.”
Me: “ACTUALLY. DO.”
Guy: “Photo between waist and neck. Nude.”
Me: “So…my boobs.”
Guy: “Yes.”
Me: “Ok, so again…ACTUALLY DO.”
Guy: “You won’t even do THAT?”
Me: “No! Besides, these boobs aren’t going to get any followers.”
Guy: “Yeah. Maybe someone else’s boobs. SAY they’re yours, though.”
“Yeah. But I think in order to blog you have to, like…do things.”
— friend, when I mentioned my dream of quitting my day job and blogging full time.
“I’ve been reading your blog all week and you know what? Fuck you.”
— New York, to me.
#homesweethome
Brother-in-law (after every semi-ridiculous thing that happens, which is most things): “Em, how is this not on the blog yet?”
Mom (genuine fear in voice, while still trying to sound threatening): “No! Em, come on. NO!”
Me: “Ok, ok, I won’t. I promise.”
<Mom goes to kitchen to pour herself more wine. I do whatever I want.>
(Continuation of This Guy Who Caught Me)
He was totally cool about it…
And then he stopped talking to me. Probably because he sees that I’m blogging everything he says/does. Like this. Right now. (Hi new friend! Thanks for being cool!)
Well. THIS was bound to happen…

Some fan (I use the term loosely) mail in reference to my post Weird Shit That Helps My Depression….
Oh. Ok. My bad.