And burns out just as quick.
The one thing about having a blog is that it exists only in this space. It cannot travel with me in my car (Unless I type and drive, and that has been sternly suggested against) and it cannot come into the shower with me, and it cannot be dictated to as I drift off to sleep. I have to write this, these brilliant words. I would like to have some one, a manservant, or a social secretary follow me around and write down all the brilliant things that I say and write them here. I have no doubt that this would be updated more often if that was the case, but I have $32.50 in my checking account, so it doesn't make sense, financially to take on more staff at this time.
The thing is I think about updating this all the time Like when I drive, and like when I am lathering, rinsing, and repeating. I think about writing random funny things as the sandman pulls at my eyelids, but I never seem to put finger to plastic electronic device and get the words out there.
I am going to try, most for you Ashton, to write on this more. Because I know you want me to, and because you're so hilarious it makes me want to write myself. I know what Bette Midler has been thinking about all these years.