Blog, blog, blog. Who wants to blog? Not me. I hate to admit this--and I know the blog police will soon be at my door, but I hate to Blog! I know, as a writer, I'm supposed to love the blog, cherish the blog, nourish the blog, but writing is a tough, brutal, bloodthirsty business which takes a lot of time, dedication, and creativity, and somedays (most days) I'm just not that creative.

A while back I was at a Border's store and a lady bought one of my books and asked me to sign it.

"Write something creative and funny," she said.

"Lady," I answered, "We have two options here. I can write something creative in a couple of hours, or I can say something like, 'best wishes' right now."

"Best wishes will be fine."

I mean, what happened to the good ole days when you could actually keep a thought to yourself? Today you're supposed to share every event, idea, and emotion with all of humanity. Did you know that a fellow writer yesterday wrote 10,000 words? And someone named Susie's daughter got an A in math? That's fascinating.

Does anyone even know what 'blog' means? It means we(b) log. (I figured this out on Monday). It's a clever word, but wouldn't clog or flog sound better? Blog almost sounds like a bad word, but I guess we're stuck with it. I'm sure, like any infection, it will grow on me.

And don't even get me started on twitter.

Oh, wait, my oatmeal looks like Elvis. Everyone will want to know about this.