You know you’ve made it when someone wants to interview you. It means they care about you. That they find you interesting. And, most importantly, that they want to sleep with you.
A few days ago, I got an email from Blog Interviewer, a blog dedicated to interviewing bloggers who talk about their blogs. In the world of journalism this is known as “boring,” but in the world of blogging (a world where most writing is good the same way Police Academy is good) it’s downright awesome.
The email from Mike started:
“We would like to do an interview with you about your blog for www.BlogInterviewer.com. We'd like to give you the opportunity to give us some insight on the "person behind the blog."
This is exciting for many reasons, not the least of which being that I don’t think this blog is enough about me. My motto has always been “More me,” and this fits that thinking perfectly. Not only am I telling you what I said to my mom yesterday, but now you’ll get an opportunity to really understand WHY I SAID IT. What was my motivation? What angst lies behind my tiny observations? What are my dreams? My fears? What would a cross-section of my abdomen look like? MORE ME.
But then the email took a turn:
“It would just take a few minutes of your time. The interview form can be submitted online at [link].”
Submitted online? How is the interviewer going to describe the way cappuccino foam clings desperately to my upper lip online. Wait, what? THERE’S NO INTERVIEWER?!
Nope. Just a bunch of questions followed by big blank boxes waiting to be filled in with my answers. It was sad. It was embarrassing. It was like being interviewed by Rosie from “The Jetsons.” (And on top of it all, when I clicked submit my browser timed out. I half-expected to see an error message reading “UNINTERESTING.”)
But I fought through, hiding my tears, and completed the “interview.” Yesterday, I got the email notifying me that it was posted. I felt like a girl receiving a thank-you call from some guy’s secretary the morning after our first date. And to think, I let him put it in my butt . . .
I won’t let it drag me down though. At least the world will know about [redacted]. They will know that my favorite milk shake is Mint Chocolate Chip (not an actual question). Your job now is to go to the site and give me great reviews. Awesome reviews. Reviews that Roger Ebert would write about an indie movie he didn’t understand but knows he should like. This is for every girl who has ever not gotten a call back even after putting out. (It is also for my ego, which has been fragile after falling in the shower a few days ago.) (Oh, plus I win $50 if you rate me the best. I promise the money will go to something good, like adopting a child from Thailand or vodka. Plus I talked to the guy who is currently in first place and he said if he won he would spend the money on killing kittens. Because he hates kittens. How awful is that?!)
Here’s the link: http://bloginterviewer.com/randomness/redacted-daniel-murphy
stop crying in the shower because when I cry in the shower I lose my balance and fall proud.