If I get one comment, I'm happy. My self-importance inflates with every additional comment. If I get more than five on a single post, I'm practically an ego-maniac.
I even like the comments that just want to point out what a horrendous arsehole I am because something I wrote affected you! We're making connections! Can you feel it? Kind of like you peed your pants?
Then I take a little trip over to some of my favorite blogs where I see that people like Jenny get hundreds of comments a day. Hundreds. Can you imagine? And then I need a drink and it doesn't even matter that it's only 10 a.m. And then there's dooce and oh my gah everyone knows dooce. And dooce sometimes gets thousands of comments. Thousands. And then when my eyeballs roll back to the front of my head I typically need another drink and I don't see why drinking before noon is such a problem for you people it's not like I'm pregnant, I'm just at work.
So then I'm all I blog for the joy of creative expression blah blah blah finding my voice blah blah and also blah blah blah blah and then I'm drunk.
And then I get to thinking
So that means, on days that no one comments, I'm just talking out loud to myself. In my quest for