Day 82.5: Single, White Loser

I read this blog. I read it every day. This woman is famous on the blogosphere (where IS that, exactly?) and I am frequently jealous of her success. Although I probably wouldn't feel that way if I got fired because of my online rantings. Which is partly why she's famous.

Yesterday she announced her pregnancy via a photograph of her dog with a positive pregnancy test balanced on his nose. Cute, right? Understated, right? Right.

I am deeply embarrassed by the rush and range of emotions I felt: Thrilled. Envious. Shocked. Weepy-happy. Betrayed. Envious (again).

Let me underline the fact that this is like reading Us Weekly and discovering that Angelina Jolie is popping out another genetically perfect specimen. Except I (irrationally) feel like I know the Blog Woman, whose name is Heather, personally. And so do the 2500 people who left congratulatory comments. Along with the hundreds of thousands of people who read her blog every day, but didn't comment feeling, probably, that 2500 comments pretty much summed everything up just fine.

I can't help but wish that she just would have picked up the phone and told me about this personally.

Which makes me coo coo for Cocoa Puffs, I realize that.

So there's the irrational feelings of betrayal. The jealousy feelings are not, I repeat NOT, about her being preggo. I do not want to be preggo. I am, however, jealous of seven months of kick ass content involving daily vomiting, sore boobs and an ever-expanding ass, all of which makes for good self-deprecating comedy. It also means small city's worth of regular readers will be salivating with anticipation over the next I-puked-at-Walmart story.

Not that I want public vomiting for MYSELF. I don't. Nor would I pursue it just to attract more readers.

I will, however, post photos of semi-naked sports heroes to attract more readers.

(Such as Kelly Slater, shown here glistening shirtless in the Hawaiian sun....with a massive growth on his head.)