Confessions of a Blog Slacker

George?

George, are you there? Please don't ignore me. Don't treat me like I treated you. I really missed you. Honest. I thought about you every day.

I tried to think of something interesting to say about my trip to McDonald's for a fruit and yogurt parfait. But really, what's there to say about it except YUMMO? I thought about doing the riff from Shrek about Ogres being more like onions than parfaits (even though they both have layers). I tried to come up with a humorous pseudo-law about the certainty of where oatmeal will land on a woman's shirt when dropped (right smack between the boobs as if creating a third nipple). It's just that nothing seemed good enough to type out.

But from the way you're shaking your head, I know you know that's not entirely the truth.

George, please forgive me. I've been bad. I have strayed from the blog to the immediate gratification of...gulp...email.

I know. I know. I have betrayed you and your vast blank pages. It just seemed so much easier to type out a quick email. It's so fast, so easy. I was seduced by the convenience.

But, you know, now that I think about it, maybe this isn't all my fault. Maybe you should think about your part in this. If you weren't so pristine and perfect and so eager for my words, maybe I wouldn't feel all this pressure to contribute and be funny. Maybe this is all your fault. Yeah, that's the ticket. You did this. You drove me into the convenient waiting arms of email.

But I'm willing to forgive you if you're willing to forgive me. Maybe we can start again without all the pressure. We'll just see what happens. We'll tell the blog police to get off our backs. We'll make this work. We can do it!