5.03.2003

 
Hi blog.

You're breaking up with me, aren't you?

Whaa? Where would you get that idea from?

I don't know. Maybe the fact that you don't pay attention to me any more. Maybe because you have been ignoring me lately. Maybe because the quality of the work which you bestow upon has declined so remarkably. I don't know, how on Earth could I possibly think you're breaking up with me?

I don't want to break up with you, Hose Monster Blog. I love you.

Sure you do. I bet you say that to all the things you write. I bet you whisper sweet nothings to your Constitutional Law notes at night and look deeply into the eyes of your appellate briefs over drinks and tell them they will always be the only one for you.

I do no such thing. I don't even like either of those. They're just something to which I have to devote a certain amount of attention.

Yeah, I guess it's rough being such a sexy swinging word developer, isn't it? I bet it's hard fighting off all those Microsoft Word documents just begging for a little time with you. Skank.

Seriously HM, you know I only want to write my life away with you.

That must explain why you don't even do some of your favorite things with me any more, like post Victoria's Secret pictures or save the world from itself by teaching people to think about their opinions before they lash out with them. Yeah, I could see that.

Honey, you know how busy I have been lately, and you know the kind of stress law school finals can put on me. I'm not purposely ignoring you, and I really do want to try to show you every day how much you mean to me, but on some days that can present a greater challenge.

You found another blog, haven't you?

What?

You've started writing and sharing with another inanimate section of the Internet. I just know it. I'm sure this new blog has all sorts of wonderful traits, like a prettier design and faster loading content and comments that don't disappear on you at least once a day and archives that aren't in constant need of republishing and the capability to post your own pictures instead of ripping them from other corners of the Internet.

HM, seriously, you're making all this up.

What's its URL?

What?

WHAT'S ITS URL? THE NEW BLOG WITH WHOM YOU'RE CHEATING ON ME? WHAT'S ITS URL?

HM, sweetie, listen, there's no other blog. I only have fingers for you, I promise. I know my stress is not the best excuse for the tough days we have had recently and might have for a little while longer, because everyone has that stress, but I promise you, I just need a little more time to handle some other things. I'm not enjoying myself, and I'm certainly not spending my time with some other rancid blog.

Sure you're not.

Honestly, even when I labor over my Criminal Procedure outline, I'm really only thinking about you and the links I'll give you and the Vicky's pictures we'll share.

Promise?

I'd sooner delete you than take up with some other blog. And you know I don't want to delete you.

Yeah, I know that, but...

No buts. No one could ever compare to my HM.

Yeah, I guess not.

Promise you believe me?

I promise.

Promise you won't ask me if I'm breaking up with you?

I promise.

Good. Let's go get some dinner, so I can stare across the table into your monitor and swear that I only have fingers for you.

You're the best blogger a blog could ever hope to have.

I know.