Lie #19 - Mr. Popular

I have now succeeded in installing a statistical counter on this blog. I sort of wish I didn’t. Here’s what I have found out. First of all, my theory that only six people read this blog is correct. Unfortunately, my theory that those six people are my friends is wrong. I don’t know where my so-called friends are these days. Most (i.e. five) of my readers are outside the United States.

Far and away, the most popular page (drum roll here, please, John Densmore) is this one. C’mon, people. What is wrong with you?! Then again, I speak as someone who visited Jim Morrison’s grave twice last year, once in springtime and once in fall. O.K., if I could have, I would have visited four times--there are four seasons, after all, and why wouldn’t people visit Paris four times a year? Well, lack of money, for one thing. Please send me money via PayPal and I will visit Paris on your behalf. If you make this possible for me, I will be able to describe the great food they have, that wonderful Off Off Off Off Broadway theatre they have, the museums, I will visit Jim Morrison’s grave and give him your regards, and if worse comes to worse, I will sit a cafés all over the city, restricting myself parsimoniously to a pain au chocolat and café crème while I brush up my French, and hang out with glamorous people.

Of course there has been a lot on my mind lately. Finally there’s an easy way to follow the DASH diet, it’s called the cookie diet. That cookie diet sounded so great, but have you tried those cookies? They’re made of bran and sardines. You can imagine how scrumptious it was sneaking pinches of that cookie dough into my mouth and licking my fingers, but once those cookies are baked, they’re not that great.

I don’t know about you, but I have been following the CMT Awards and the CMA Awards. I have just tried the new Child Perfume. It’s great, not at all like the unchanged diaper scent I expected. Herschel Walker has been helping me with my tax extension form. And Rob Lowe’s nanny has been helping me find the IRS address. On a sad note, Hazel Court has passed away--but not before bringing a Form 4868 to me and Herschel Walker as we sat with our pain au chocolat and café crème at a sidewalk table at a café on the Upper East Side puzzling over that darn tax extension form. But I will say this, man is Herschel Walker smart. Smarter than me, certainly. I just feel bad that Hazel Court looked perfectly healthy this morning. Herschel and I were shocked when we heard the news. Anyway, thanks to her, I got my IRS extension done. Now, if only I could find that Internal Revenue Service address. I went on the Web and all I’ve found so far is Nutella’s address.