Bite Me: I'm Quasi-Famous And Therefore Delicious

In my what feels like a weeks long hiatus from writing blog related material, I have possibly discovered my true calling in life.

Not as a writer, but as a deluded camp follower (read: online stalker)of the oh so charismatic Alexander Skarsgard. I've been enamored with him since "Generation Kill", and the lust just continues on with "True Blood".

I have given up Viggo Mortensen for this man; that's just how serious I am.

So innocently enough I shared him with my readers back in May as one of my featured "Wide-Ons". I also guest blog for Mike Alvear and share the "Wide-On of the Week" with his audience.

And my blog took off.

The only problem was that no one actually was reading it or following it. They were just reading about Alexander Skarsgard. Checking my statistics nightly, I found that all the search terms were about him.

So I did the rational thing and became irrationally angry at my creation. How dare Alex take over my blog?? Dammit, I'm supposed to be the star here. What else is a blog for than to make you famous in your own mind??

Then I got an email from Mike, except that he was deliriously happy about all the havoc Alex was causing on both our blogs. He asked for even more material, so I had to get over my own ego and write another post featuring the tall, blonde Swede.

And then finally another one last week. Mike ran it as "Why America Is Baring Its Throat For Alexander Skarsgard".

Then he added his own spin to that post and get this; put it in the Huffington Post. Yes, do immediately click that link and go read it. I'll sit here and wait until you get back.

I now have an inbound link from the Huffington Post. I can't wait to print the post out and stick it on my dream board.

Please feel free to comment or even send flowers to congratulate me. Note that I am partial to tuberoses and lily of the valley. I'm not so famous yet that I have to have my publicist do thank you cards, you will get a lovely handwritten one from me and my cats.

Yes, I sign my cats names on all my personal correspondence. In case you were wondering, the latest one is called "Itsy Bitsey Brower" or "Bitsey" for short.

All famous people cultivate an eccentric personality disorder. Mine could be worse; I understand cocaine is more expensive than my stray cat habit. And I do make them sign their own names, I don't just change my hand writing to look like cat prints. That would be cheating.

Fuck me; I'm almost famous late in my life. I had better cultivate a full harvest of weirdness to catch up with everyone else.