Neglect

Oh you poor little blog! What are you doing here all by yourself? Where is your mother? You don't know! That's terrible. Terrible! Does she at least know where you are? Okay. Oh my. Here sweetie, have a sucker. It's orange. I know that's not the best flavor, but you're probably used to getting the short end of the lolly pop stick.

I'll wait here with you until she shows up. She and I are going to have a grown-up talk about responsibility. Oh, isn't that cute! You auto-corrected my spelling mistake. I never know if it's responsa-or responso-. You are just too precious.

I swear, people these days just start blogs with NO regard for how much work they require. They think it's going to be "cute" and "fun" like drawing a picture and putting it on the fridge. Wake up, people! This ain't Barbie's Dream House! It's BLOGGING. A lifelong commitment. A blog needs attention! Nourishment! Love! And a mother and a father who are not gay.

Sigh. Where IS she? I hate to do this, honey, but I've got to get going. Church starts in 15 minutes. Here, have a mint. I got it from the bowl by the cash register in the diner. It's that chalky spearmint kind that tastes like dried Pepto Bismol, but you would probably be happy with a bean as a pet, you're so neglected.

Alright. Bye now. If you're still here after service, I'm calling Social Services. Somebody has got to take care of you and it can't be me.