I was going to write this when I got to 150 blog entries so here it is at 160 instead.
Well, congratulations to me for making it to one hundred and fifty blog entries. When I started this blog I thought I would write one or two entries a week that no one would read and forget about it by the time the new year rolled around.
It’s now almost January and I’m going stronger than ever. Wow, that’s sounds like a Viagra commercial.
“I used to be a September to December lover. But now, I’m banging babes well into January. Thanks Viagra. Thanks prostitution.”
Viagra commercials aside, what is the significance of this blog? Besides the enjoyment I get out of it by sounding off on my thoughts or experiences, what else keeps it going?
Do I have this dedicated fan base that keeps leaving comments (well, the nice ones leave comments)? Maybe my mom has hit the technological age with a vengeance and can log into many accounts and leave comments under all these names. Who am I kidding?
I do have a fan base, starting with me. I was going to take today off from work and celebrate just how great an achievement this was. I was going to hire planes to write my name in the sky. Sir Paul McCartney was going to write a song for me but he’s a little busy right now telling One Direction that there was an “a” in his band’s name and not two “e”s. Or maybe he’s trying to convince people that Ringo Starr wasn’t just in the band to make them all look taller.
I had the parade route planned and everything. The girl from the interview and the one at the insanely long-legged eastern European girl on the metro yesterday were both going to be there, taking in the greatness that is me. I was to ride on the last float, with beer swilling dancing girls and sing songs of triumph and liberation. I would have been like Ferris Bueller, except older, and not wearing a dodgy vest. At the end of the parade route everyone would hug me and the Dalai Lama would give me an award for solidarity and bringing people together. And women would offer to give me leis but wouldn’t have any flowery wreaths to hang around my neck (see what I did there?)
Work would declare this day a holiday, and I’d be fast-tracked into management, soon becoming the CEO of not only my company but of Victoria’s Secret as well. I’d help design the latest undies, and have private viewings on my yacht.
Yes, today was going to be grand. Bono from U2 and I were going to go to Bangladesh, or some other third world place and enlighten them with words of hope. The words on my blog had moved him to tears, and moved him to action. My words led to his vision. And to top it off, I would get to punch those stupid yellow glasses from off his holier-than-though face. And believe me, I would totally do it too.
But alas, I did none of these things. I got a phone call from my mom. It was pleasant, somewhat shorter than normal. I went to work, bonded with those around me, and will put in my 8 hours, and head home. I will eat my leftover sweet and sour chicken for lunch, some chocolate, and hold my tongue as another person stands too close to me on the metro. They obviously do not know who I am or what this day represents. Tonight, I will pack for my trip to Jordan tomorrow and cook steak. 150+ blog entries and over 8000 views on my blog deserve such things. I might take a selfie. I might take a selfie with the surgically enhanced girl hopefully hanging out at the pool. It’s my day; surely she won’t object.
So, one hundred and fifty entries in and I will continue for the good of, not mankind, but for the good of those who really appreciate my words of wisdom; no, not wisdom, words of joy, of humour, and of fashion. My aim in this was not to achieve notoriety or lasting fame. No, my aim in this was to write, to get in the habit of writing every day. A little bit of notoriety would be cool though. Or care packages sent in the mail. Or pictures of my readers in their underwear. But mainly to write every day.
And, while I haven’t written every day, I am writing more this year than I did last year. The writing is easy, when I know that people are actually reading what I’m writing. So, instead of thanking myself, I must thank you all for stopping by and making this so much fun to write.
Here’s hoping some of you are around to see my next one hundred and fifty entries. And, by the way, tell your friends.