Andy Warhol needed some Gel

I am pretty much a novice blogger. (If right now someone is sarcastically saying "no, really?" rest assured I am flipping you off.) I am still at the stage where I care more what others think of my blog then I care what I think. Sad, really. Needless to say, I am unfamiliar with the five degrees of blog borrowing. I am a virgin to seeing me elsewhere. Now, thanks to my pal Dixie, my last post is making a swath..well, not so much a swath as a...gurgle?

I was absolutely giddy with excitement that I was quote worthy on Dixie's blog, as she has quite the sort of taste I admire - both classy and cool kitschy all at the same time (every time I think of Dix, I think about orange vomit...really, it's not as bad as it sounds, but it's intriguing, yes?)

As I generally use her handy little links to read the blogs of some truly amazing writers, I found my mildly sociopathic questionnaire below becoming scattered to the blogging winds. Vaklempt I am (spelled phonetically, I mean, is this actually a word?). All a flutter.

Although, as a person seeking an English/Journalism degree (shaddup, yes I know how old I am and how often I use "..."), I fear that that little survey just ate up my 15 minutes of authoring fame. Now there will be no one to read my compelling article on the 10 best ways to scare your cat...or my analysis of "The Shining" in five parts.

What can I say, I am just enough parts vain AND insecure to love hearing my own voice....reading my own voice. Whatever. I have to say that this feeling today almost tops the time a co-worker of mine quoted me to me - though she credited herself for that bit of wisdom. (Both stupid and a poor memory. Really, there should be a charity to help those people. Not for their sake, you understand...)

If I had majored in psychology (which I won't b/c I'm too lazy and cheap to get a doctorate), I would hazard a guess that there's some mental disorder to explain this sort of glee. And if there isn't, maybe they can name it after me...no, no, see, I'm out of control. It's a devilishly slippery slope.