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CALL TO ACTION: Read Below to Make Me Famous Because My Mom Talking About My Blog to Her High School Friends Isn't Cutting It Right Now

I get it. We're all busy. There are so many things to read and so many memes to keep up with, it can be overwhelming to stay informed. After an evening of lying prostrate on the couch buried under a pile of crumbs and dirty t-shirts of yore while scrolling idly through Facebook, Twitter, and GhostSingles.com (you've been warned), sometimes you just don't have the energy to read a blog on top of that, despite how funny and witty and charming it is and how desperate the author is for attention. Because, let's be real here, everyone has a blog. There are ferrets that have blogs. I once had a blog about quitting smoking, but I deleted it because the relentless irritation of cravings transformed me into wet socks personified. So you don't have to read it, per se. Just follow it and throw me the occasional sympathetic nod like you would for your dumbass niece who can't be bothered to acknowledge that the ABC's have a melody. And send me a link to her blog. I'll follow the shit out of it. If she promises to reciprocate, of course. I mean, I'm busy, too.

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Written After Four Days of Quarantine Due to a Nasty Bout of the Flu in Which I Have Had Zero Social Contact with Actual Human Beings and Am Starting to Freak Out

Captain's Log: Day Four

Cabin fever is beginning to set in. I haven't seen the sunlight or known a man's touch in four endless days. The cat paces wearily about the apartment, longing desperately for the stimulation and companionship my enfeebled mind can no longer provide. As the sun stretches lazily across the afternoon sky, I seize an opportunity. Clad only in soup-stained sweats and salty snow boots, I descend the stairs with the tepid anticipation of one who has nothing left, a husk of the woman I had once striven to be. Timidly, I open the door and the wind rushes my face, stealing my breath. I set an intrepid course for CVS, strangers floating past me like ghosts, as if in a dream, their faces contorting before me with such hideously transparent ponderings as, "The shadow of death is imminent upon her" and "Egads! What’s that smell?" I can no longer comprehend their horror. I have been gone away too long.

I return fifteen minutes later…