Sunday, June 06, 2010
Well, will you look at that..! There's a dastardly pink counter on this Blogger desktop that tells me that This Very Post is my one thousandth entry into the blogosphere. How fancy! I think we should celebrate, don't you? Strike up the piano, let's have a bit of a champagne and a sing-song before the usual happens: I get a bit too drunk and end up waking in an alleyway, wiping some stranger's glop the back of my legs with a McDonald's napkin. And as we've reached the millennial posting, here's some other numbers that have made up the last 999 posts...
I won two awards! That was a shock, because I do just do this to amuse myself; anyone else getting a laugh out of it is a bonus. But yes, proper awards! I didn't even prepare a speech. They were quite prestigious too.
One Christian website tried to buy us. No, no its true. We once had a very strange phone call from an American gentleman who offered to 'sponsor' us, as long as we started covering one or two topics they decided upon, and "toned down the gay stuff". Oh honey, if we toned down the 'gay stuff', you'd get three lines about Girls Aloud, and that would be mostly about how band member Nicola has all the dancing grace of a dog in high heels.
With a bit of digging, we discovered our mysterious benefactor was part of a Christian web ring, leading to the conclusion that The Illuminati were trying to shut us down! A fanciful leap, if you will, but then I think you'll find that 'The Da Vinci Code' was all the rage at the time.
I've had a grand total of two stalkers. Clear proof that the cult of celebrity can affect anyone (though we've had fewer offers of free facials and goodie bags from, say, Grazia Magazine I'm looking at you) turns out that my silver tongue and tiny profile pic in the corner is enough to get anyone fizzing at the bunghole and decide to wait outside the office I was working in to, well in one case give me flowers and profess their undying love; while the other one threatened to kill me. The police were swiftly called and he was dealt with in a unusually expedient manner.
I've had three boyfriends since I started. Bless two of them. Of course in the gaps were several also-rans, and innumerable Gentlemen Callers who incidentally taught me "I'm cumming..." in lots and lots of languages. There was that joyous summer where my front porch saw more foreign footfall than the UN building in New York. Understandably, those numbers I'm a bit hazy on.
I've spent a grand total of one morning working on a film set, met Doctor Who while he battled Daleks in Manhattan, had a piece of artwork I'd done appear on the BBC News site and in several newspapers, been threatened with legal action once, bought Kate Mulgrew a schooner of wine (and watched her glug it in one as I walked away), got one cat (who's currently on my lap and going to town on herself like no-ones business. I mean really. She's lapping away at her twinkle with all the vim and vigour as a secretary at a Muller Lite yogurt), been interviewed by people for their dissertations on blogging and had strangers shake my hands in bars because I'd made them laugh so much at work that they'd snotted tea. That's a pretty cool list, if you ask me.
And its taken seven whole years to get this far. I know other people pump these things out, their fingers dance across the keys like Jennifer Beals in her audition try-out, but I'm a sedentary creature. I take time to write, mostly because I have the attention span of a oooh look, someone's sent me an email with a link to some free porn and possibly an off-shore African bank account. I must assist!
You see? It's a slow process for me. But I love it so. You can't do all those things listed and not believe you're doing OK, can you. So thank you for sticking with me through all these. A thousand more? Oh go on then..!
Now, where's my champagne? Mummy needs her medicine...