Oh, right. Blog.

So it seems that I'm no better at keeping a blog than before.

I thought that maybe I had matured and I could commit to a steady, loving relationship with a blog. Maybe not daily, but at least weekly. But, as per usual, it was a couple of weeks of fun and I stopped returning his calls. I had better things to do, like watch "How I Met Your Mother" and stare at shiny objects for indescribable lengths of time.

And so, I would like to issue the following statement:

Dear Blog,

This time, I promise to make things work.

I promise to make time for "us", to share the stories of my week that will enrich our relationship. Like the date I went on last week where the singer at the pub took off his pants before performing. Or how last week at karaoke a prof got tanked and told everyone, mic in hand, that they should go home and get laid because sex is awesome... and proceeded to do the splits during "Paradise by the Dashboard Light". Or how this week I had a friend puking in the back of the bar while I tried to do cash out and somehow managed to help her hydrate, throw up, and balance the till all at once. Because these are the things you need— nay, deserve— to know.

Yes, I know you've been hurt by me before, so we can take this slowly. Let's start weekly and just see where it goes...

Affectionately,

Meg.

PS: Just don't get too close right now, I seem to be in the midst of illness and would hate to pass it on to you. But don't worry, I've been eating lots of Jell-O and watching loads of Pride & Prejudice (the Colin Firth version, obviously) and thus am hoping to be back in good health in no time at all.