... is admitting you have a problem.
There. I said it and I don't care who knows! I am utterly, madly, passionately addicted to The Daily Dish. At first I was a bit creeped out by Sully's obsession with me. But let's face it, who else out there shows any interest in my accomplishments? Ever since Trig moved out, the media won't give me the time of day . Life has gotten pretty dull around here. I can't remember the last time Vanity Fair tried to get me to give them the inside scoop about Sarah "off the record" (wink, wink...nudge, nudge).
I wish I were handling it better. I spend most of my time reliving the glory days. About the 3rd or 4th time Sarah got preggers I found myself craving the spotlight ... feet up in those dishy stirrups ... a cast of complete strangers peering intently at the old wazoo. You'd have thought the SuperBowl was being broadcast from a spot just north of our perineum....
Good times. I miss the attention. And the drugs. Definitely the drugs. Thank God Sarah wasn't having any of that natural childbirth nonsense!
But these days I feel so .... empty. Useless. The truth is, there's just not much for me to do with my time. Crank an egg out here and there, mix up a little hormone cocktail once a month just to mess with Todd's mind... it's not enough to keep someone of my prodigious talents busy.
If it weren't for the Internet, I honestly don't know what I'd do all day.