Hello. My name is Frankie and I’m addicted to blogging.
Now, it’s hardly anonymous if I’ve just told you that my name is Frankie but frankly Frankie is just following the time honoured formula that goes “hello, my name is <blank> and I’m addicted to <blank>”. It’s in all the movies and stuff so it must be the real deal. I’m not sure how they get around the anonymity issue. Maybe they use fake names. Ok, let’s try that.
Hi, my name’s Rumpelstiltskin and when I’m not concocting evil plans concerning other people’s babies or spinning straw into gold I’m addicted to blogging. Is that better?
The other thing they always tell you about these addiction support groups is that it’s very important that you apologise to all the people that have been affected by your nasty addict behaviour. You have to clear the air. So here goes, my public apologies to all the people who have been dragged down and inconvenienced by my self absorbed need to write stuff on the internet all day every day.
Dear Mr Pony Tail
I’m sorry I took that photo in that restaurant we were eating in and left the flash on, causing you to stew about someone else having fun while you were evidently having a miserable meal with your long suffering wife. I’m not sure which photo it was that offended you so badly, as you were over the other side of the room, not facing me and it only took you 45 minutes to approach me on your way out with the (obviously fake) tale of epilepsy and dictate that I had no right to ever use a flash in public, ever, in case someone got hurt.
Let’s be honest, that restaurant was darker than the space under Kim Kardashian’s left butt cheek and I needed the photos as it was a comped meal and I had a gathering of staff around me posing with champagne bottles and gazing at me in a somewhat eager and expectant manner. DSLRs have that effect on publicity hungry eateries.
Ah, who am I kidding? I was obviously trying to kill you. I just failed because I’m a shitty, half arsed assassin, in the same way that you are a shitty, half arsed Willy Nelson.
Dear Person Who Wants Me To Write For Their Website
Thank you so much for the email and I’m so sorry that I haven’t gotten around to answering that just yet. It’s so nice that you have an entire business built around your tiny little website that I’ve never actually heard about before, it’s a shame to hear that the “business” aspect doesn’t extend as far as actually paying the people who you need to create content for you.
I barely have time to create content for my own site (due to my blogging addiction), but working for free for your evil empire sounds likes a serious shot of the jollies too. As soon as I get that frontal lobotomy scheduled in and have all the time in the world to admire just how pretty my belly button has gotten lately I’ll definitely be sending top quality content your way. I’ll even pay to have you promote that content with special banners and stuff so more people see that weird article I wrote for free, because that sounds like a smashing deal right there.
Dear Person Who I Met At Blogging Event And Spent Several Hours Bonding With Who Won’t Follow Me Back on Social Media
I’m sorry that you don’t love me. WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME?! I’m not crying. I’m just sniffling. WE DRANK WINE TOGETHER, MAN. What was it that made you reconsider our friendship? Was it the story about teenage sexual conquests? Was it the dick jokes? Was it the fact that my brittle blonde hair broke and may have tainted your risotto? TWITTER HAS A MUTE BUTTON YOU KNOW.
Usually I don’t give a toss who follows me and doesn’t follow me. Hell, follow and unfollow me 17 times in a row if you please. I’ll barely notice. Unless I’ve actually spent time with you in real life. THEN IT WILL CRUSH MY SOUL.
Dear People Who Think Passive Aggressive Behaviour Is A Bad Thing
I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s actually quite cathartic. At least in blog form. I’m an addict, you know.
NB. It’s BYO gin.