Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
You can also find Monica's writing here:
« We Really Shouldn't Be Raising A Child | Main | Taco Night At Chez Bielanko »

You Dirty Reality Show Lovers

It kind of intrigues me that the number of folks reading my blog skyrockets whenever there is marital discord. Serge's blog too. I'm reading, well, co-reading actually, a fantastic book about a guy who figures out how to write the ultimate novel and sucker everyone out of their hard-earned $24.99. By co-reading I mean that Serge is reading it at the same time as me. Like, we don't each have a copy of the book, we're sharing it. I'll tell you what it is later because it is THAT awesome.

So Serge reads the awesomeness on the toilet, in bed at night before I get home from work, wherever in hell he is when the spirit moves him to read... or move his bowels which in turn moves him to read. And I read it at night when I get home from work. The guy in the book, he figures out the formula to write the perfect bestselling novel and he does it even though it's complete horseshit. Which, come on, half the stuff that makes the bestsellers list is horsehit so I wonder which authors really believe in their art and which ones are just pulling the wool over eyes for a quick buck, y'know?

**cough** Danielle Steele **cough**

It got me to thinking...

Maybe I should fuck with you guys. Like, drum up some drama up in here to sucker you all over to the wonder that is The Girl Who. Perhaps dangle little We're Talking Divorce! carrots every now and again. Maybe talk about that one time Serge beat me. After he snorted lines of coke. Yeah, that's it. He snorted lines then beat me within an inch of my life. OOOh! Did he really beat her? Or is she making it up to fuck with us?

Hold on, I need to go check my blog stats.

I could string you all along, you know? And then I'll run a shit-ton of ads here and retire from the news business and live off my blog lies. And the fat of the land. Because I've always wanted to live off the fat of the land. Not totally live off the fat of the land but kind of. Like have a garden and stuff but not, like, milk cows or shoot deer. Maybe I'd milk cows. I'd eat fish. And maybe I'd shoot a turkey, well, I wouldn't shoot it but I'd eat one somebody else shot. BUT I WILL NOT BE INVOLVED IN THE PLUCKING. I draw the fat of the land line at plucking.

But seriously, do you guys think conjuring up a little drama would work? My statistics tell me it will. My blog stats tell me I need to injure Serge with a butcher knife then call the cops and then blog about it and y'all will come over here in droves to witness the action or maybe just to feel better about yourself and proclaim that you and your lover NEVER fight. Don't worry, I won't hit his artery. Just maybe nick it as I've never had the best aim. He'll be fine! Especially when the blog cash comes rolling in! It'll be cool. It's worth a try. I think so anyway.