So from the last entry into Ye Olde Blogge, you have surmised that I like to read. Or be read to, mostly.
One of the books I have most recently read/listened to is Between, Georgia, written by an author named Joshilyn Jackson. Not only did she write this book, but she also read the unabridged version of the MP3 to which I listened.
It was a HOOT. It was one of those books that you want to keep reading because it's so good that you can't put it down, but you put it down because you want it to last because it's so good. And with her voicing all of the characters, well, it made it even that much better. If you get a chance, it's a read you won't want to miss.
I googled Ms. Jackson and found that not only does she have a website, but (be still my heart) SHE BLOGS!
Well, Interpeeps, I made it my business to start reading said blog from the very beginning. Why? Because there's no better way to get to know someone and catch up on what's been happening and how they are on a day-to-day basis.
Besides that, I'm nosy.
So I'm all the way through 2004 entries, when I get a notifier on Google Reader that she has just written her 1000th post! And she's thanking all the commenters and the people who read, even the person who just started reading her archives this past week and emailed her to tell her.
It wasn't me. But it could've been.
I was just too stinkin' "I can't write to a real AUTHOR and blather on about how much I adored their book or anything because they'd think I was too stupid for words... blahblahblah..." Besides, I'm fat. And old.
So I wrote to her. And I sent it to her. And then I read what I'd sent. AFTER I sent it. And the humiliation? It was great and mighty and powerful. So great and mighty and powerful that I will not even reprint what I sent to her in the form of a "Gee, I really like your work! Please, please, please like me! I'm funny! I'm not a geek! And you can like me, too!"
And then I dropped into the dank, dark recesses of my soul, never to be seen by mortals again because I was too embarrassed for words. And I couldn't even kick my own behind because my knee won't bend that far because I'm too fat. And old.
Now THAT'S sad.
So I wrote to her again and apologized for the first email. Then I covered myself up with rotted leaves and swamp mud and went to live in the black cave of my mortification and shame.
I'll just sit here and wallow. Y'all carry on.