Wounded little bird

My blog has lost one of its precious followers! Where have I gone wrong? Was it my loving mockery of my mother's impending cyborginess? Was it the attempted instigation of fangirl combat over Ron Perlman? Did they get hit with the JPI virus and blame me? Maybe it was my assertion over in Google Buzz that mistaking Tiger Woods for Barack Obama during his well covered reading time is in no way racist.

I doesn't matter. I have sinned and the internet has taken a follower from me, who I'm pretty sure was a real person. Mostly sure. At least a 50/50 shot.

BUT THEY'RE GONE! Now all my horrible neurotic abandonment issues are coming screaming back like they did last summer during the Twitter mystery when I'd sit hunkered over my Crackberry wondering if my new follower was indeed a real person, and crying silently when they went away after trying to get my buy stuff or view their webcam. THIS IS NOT HELPING THE HOLE IN MY SOUL, PEOPLE!


I'm such a wounded little bird.

I'm going to go wear black, read a bunch of Alan Moore comics and be emo now.

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