There are quite a few things wrong with me

Indeed.

I think, unfortunately, that I'm starting to feel the symptoms of a kind of stage fright, related to having gotten quite a few new readers of late. Welcome to all of you! Don't mind the scared, sweaty woman hiding in the corner. She's just the writer.

Seeing as I started this here blog to a completely empty room, and then sort of got used to writing for Dawn at From Congo, my first follower ever until I made made my friend Lady Kicks, and the Hubby follow me, because I thought that three was better than one, I'm feeling just a tad overwhelmed. Glad, happy and grateful, but also overwhelmed and stressed. I'm just a complex tangle of feelings, I am.

Okay. Actually I'm terrified and drawn to the bottle as a potential drowning place for said stress (never said I was healthy, actually might have declared the opposite), on top of feeling the weight of responsibility for what I write.

None of you are like 12, right?

I don't want to corrupt any young minds, but I also don't want to stop swearing. That would be like checking a part of my personality at the door. And no one wants that, because once you only take on the 'wholesome' part of me there really isn't that much to work with. Sort of like my hair: Once you remove all of the product, there really isn't any hair there, and what little there is just lays flat and doesn't want to stand up, no matter how much you stroke it.

Thought I couldn't include a dirty joke, but there she bobs.

I must say though that I was, and still am, quite proud of the fact that my first ever follower (and also possibly my first ever reader, excluding myself, since I do like to read my own posts, the pathetic mess that I am) was from such a cool/scary/awesome/horrendous/brilliant/frightening place as Goma, in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Dawn does some awesome work. Go check her out.

A completely unexplained, doctored photo. because I felt like it and it reminds me of warmth. And now it's also explained.

But how did she achieve the Blog of Note glory (Thank you again Blogger! and yes I'll stop raving about it after this), if no one ever read her?

Well, the story doesn't end with Hubby.

(Insert yet another dirty joke. This time one of your choice.)

It continues with my fairyblogmother™ julochka from moments of perfect clarity.

After julochka received her BoN glory (The mention doesn't count, as it isn't my glory, yes?) last April, I happened to click on her blog. I read a few posts. I liked them. And I liked the fact that she was a foreigner in Denmark married to a Dane. Something I had been before. (Still married to the same Dane, just no longer in Denmark. Don't get excited.)

I commented.

She ignored me.

I commented again.

And then, at the hight of her BoN glory ( I promise I'll stop saying it now), she made me her 'Blog Crush'.

Awww.

And that made my follower count climb to 141, and was the start of an awesome friendship (and we haven't pissed each other off yet, which is kind of a record for me, so I'm pretty pleased and proud about it all).

Those 141 bleeps (i.e. blogging peeps), julochka most of all, will always be dear to me. As will you my new readers. I will cherish you.

As long as I figure out something to write about. Something that

a) Has nothing whatsoever to do with fingernail clippings. (Oddly, I have commented on several blogs lately and somehow come to mention this detail every single time.)
b) Doesn't contain some weird list. (Impossible, I tell you! Impossible!), or
c) Contains some action other than

1) Me drinking.
2) Me not showering, or
3) Me blogging.

Good luck with that, lady.