Suicide Watch?

I just realized that "Better Off Dead" post I made a couple of days ago might have seemed a bit cryptic, as if I'm pining away for some chick, thinking I can't live without her. Believe me, that isn't the case--although I'm sure there's at least one woman reading this blog who thinks I was talking about her. Apparently, everybody I know reads this stupid blog, which is funny, because I never told anyone I was writing it. Why would I do that? Every loser on the face of the earth has a blog... and nobody cares about it but them. So, how many people read my blog? I don't know, and I'm too tired to care.

The truth is, the song lyrics were nothing more than a reference to yet another celebrity interview that I just finished. That's all. But don't worry, my recent rash of interviews hasn't gotten me thinking that I'm a "real" writer or anything. I've just been on a streak where a few people actually said "yes." But the thing is, the interviews don't go over nearly as well as the column--and I hardly ever get e-mail on them. I guess they're too "serious" or whatever. But anyway, just in case any of you actually give a shit, my latest interview will be posted once someone snatches the bottle out of Dean's hand.

And if you don't care, what the fuck are you doing here? Find something else to do, asshole.