You Can't Hide From Me

I decided it was time for people to know what I look like.

This is me on one of my better days.

Today’s post is dedicated to a new follower.

Why?

Because you drove me nuts.

Let me tell you how this happened - the process took place over a few days and was as follows:

Woop, woop! New follower! *punching air with fist*

(Blogging is like Facebook; Facebook + 1,000,001 friends = I’m so popular! Blogging + 1,000,001 followers = I’m so popular!

*hanging head* I’m so shallow.)

Then:

Hmm, they obviously don’t mind reading about (in no particular order) my occasional insanity, my swearing, my mouth before brain exploits and the occasional rant. Cool.

(At this point I could rant about the journey I took on Saturday. The one that should have taken me an hour and a half. The one that ended up taking me four hours. But hey, that’s the M25 for you – well known as the world’s biggest car park - and I probably got off lightly, so I won’t.)

Then:

Hmm, who are they? *holds mouse over picture* Hmm, matchison. Okay, matchison, let’s be nosey have a look at your blog. *click on picture*

Then:

Oh. Bugger. They haven’t linked to their blog. I can’t see their profile; all I can see is who they’re following. Okay, let’s peruse their list.

Ooh, we have two in common. Hmm, let’s see if matchison has left a comment somewhere – I’ll see their little picture and their name next to the comment, then I can click on that and get to their blog that way. Plan. *high five self*

Okay, nothing there. Let’s try another blog. Okaaay, nothing there either. Let’s try another one. Nope. And another. Noooo.

Then:

Hmm, lemme think. Is that matchison, ma tch i son, mat chi son, match is on? Ooh, that sounds promising. What match? Are they a sports fan? No wait, apart from me and one other, the others are gardening blogs. Hmph. *frowning heavily and tapping chin with finger* Why am I even going down this path? It's not going to help.

Then:

Aargh!

WHO ARE YOU? WHERE’S YOUR BLOG??

Then:

Uh Bub, calm down okay? Aaand breathe. Go do something else.

(At this point I could tell you about the argument my next-door neighbours had the other night.

The one where Mrs Wotshername was going on and on at Mr Wotshisname. The one where things got quite heated.

The one where I nearly dropped the glass I was holding against the wall to hear better I got quite concerned after hearing something being thrown.

The one where I thought their baby must have been drugged I was very surprised because their baby didn’t wake up. But unfortunately it wasn’t in English, so I won’t.)

Then:

Okay, let’s have another go, matchison must have left a comment somewhere. I need to find out who they are. I don’t like this feeling of not knowing. I have to know.

Then:

Okay. Match. Is. On. Literally. I’m going to find your blog. I AM GOING TO HUNT YOU DOWN.

Then:

I can’t find you. *sobbing quietly*

Then:

Uh Bub? Step. Away. From. The. Computer. You’re getting a teeny bit obsessed. Go out.

(At this point I could tell you about the get-together I went to. The one where I mainly went because the friend whose house it was held at has a video of me performing a very drunken Dancing Queen karaoke duet and who threatened to post it on YouTube if I didn’t go. The one I was really looking forward to going to.

The one where the obnoxious when drunk slightly inebriated husband of one friend accidentally kicked the one of the legs of the cheaply made fire pit, causing it to give way.

The one where the fire pit tipped and nearly set fire to a seventy-nine year old woman. The one where the also drunk tipsy owner of the fire pit tried to pick up the burning logs from the patio wearing a pair of oven gloves.

But after telling the old lady she should enter the long jump at the 2012 Olympics the old lady was thankfully unharmed, and those of us who weren’t as pissed as a fart under the influence stopped the man with the oven gloves, therefore all was okay, so I won’t.)

Then:

Right. I can do this. I will find your blog. I’m just gonna chill out about this. *clicking on and reading random comments*

Then:

Ooh, who’s that? *click on profile* No, I don't think... Wait a minute. Ohhhh. Gotcha! *standing up, doing a victory dance*

So, welcome to Marguerite at Canoe Corner. I eventually found you, even though you don’t use the same picture or name on your profile as the ones displayed when you follow someone. I must admit that so far, I haven’t read through your blog yet, because my brain hurts. However, I promise I will. But *muttering darkly* I know where you live*.

*I’m a pussycat really, wouldn’t hurt a fly - honest. Actually, flies I do hurt, but you know what I mean.