I know you’re not going to believe me, OK?
Not just because my story’s ridiculous and fantastical, but because I gave away any right to be believed when I spent thousands of my – and others’ – hours writing fictional blogs, claiming to be people I wasn’t. I lied, I got caught. And now my name’s mud, and even the most gullible person would turn their nose up at a request for belief. Fine. Treat it as some fine fiction, or the ravings of a madwoman. Whatever. I need to get this out.
Stand by for some seriously messed-up shit.
20 July 2008 at 10:12 am
I saw George the other day and he thinks you’re having triplets and a breakdown.
Shall I send you pink or blue strait jackets, Sal ?
20 July 2008 at 12:04 pm
Jayne,
It’s always nice, in the blogosphere, to run into those who know us in real life – and convince them we’re more nuts than they thought. *snort* Especially mates with the tact capacity of a flea. Don’t go showing my mother this blog, or I may have to hunt you down. I know where you live
George is having a little trouble recognising the truth sitting dead centre in front of his ugly mug. Because he’s a bloke. Bastard.
Anyhow, better make those straitjackets green. Cos we’re not sure if gender roles are really going to apply here, y’know?
1 August 2008 at 11:42 am
Aww, Sallygurl. *hugs*
Have I got a playmate for you!
2 August 2008 at 7:21 pm
Sally, would you like me to knit booties for you?
How many feet do you think your half breed with have ??