First of all, who are you people and how did you find me? I've been writing this blog for mere minutes and already you're sending me love poems and tasty tidbits? While I thank you for the love/bile/sharing and caring, I'm mostly stunned.
And to Alix in Cobble Chill- You don't know me. Really. You don't. And I'm not Michelle *I'm so indie I cut my hair short like Mia Farrow moved to Brooklyn (but not to a scary neighborhood because that would be too indie) and got babied up in my twenties* Williams, because she's not an old maid. She's just the formerly precious other half of Heath *I'm so hot I don't have to bathe unless I'm nominated for something gold and shiny* Ledger
And Dita? You don't know me either. Now stop trying to figure out who I am and enjoy the snark.
As you were,
3 comments:
Hee!
:D
I'd try to add some bitterness here for ya, except I discovered years ago (but far too late to save my teenaged-hipster-wannabe self)
that you just can't turn apple pie into angst.
Looks ugly and tastes worse.
Meanwhile, I *will* sit here and laugh, and be grateful I'm not a celeb.
I may be bitter enough to comment on your out-of-the-stratosphere funny blog but not brave enough to post with my name.
I say to you what I will say to HIM should he ever show up - (he'll be the new fiance with the broken nose after I punched him out and ask)
WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG??? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY (SINGLE) LIFE????
Bitter Old Maid in Brooklyn you really are Da BOMB.
Love you love you love you loveyou
Bitterly Yours-
I think you work with me- but if you're not going to tell me who you are- I'm not telling either.
Seriously- are you at New York magazine? Inquiring minds want to know (and think so)
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