Friends, blog criticism and countesses...

Hello,

How depressed are you?

Come on. I asked you first...

It's okay. You can tell me. I'm your friend, lover, compadre, bridge partner, flatmate, sidekick, confidante, the cup for your coffee, the ace in your hole. Did that last one sound a little dirty?

Listen, if we threw a party and invited everyone one we knew, you would see the biggest gift would be from and the card attached would say, 'thank you for being a friend'.

I had some negative criticism about Pistola Whipped gets a life the other day. Can you believe I actually got some feedback on this blog? I nearly dropped dead when someone acknowledged to me in person they had read this blog, or at least scanned it.

The negative criticism I received was this, 'it has too many words.' Let's not dwell too much on the fact that I specifically asked this person what they thought of my blog and before that it hadn't come up in the conversation. I wasn't even sure they had read it, so needless to say I was flattered that it had been read by anyone at all. Before this conversation I thought I could say with some certainty that I was the only person who viewed this blog.

But, I was wrong. And it feels good to be wrong, because it's the feeling I know the best (besides shame and guilt).

And it's really beside the point who this person was, although I have to admit they bore a strong resemblence to Jennee 'PF' Dalager's imaginary friend.

Here's today bit...

Pistola Whipped gets a life by wanting to be this person(s)...

Yeah, I'm not exactly sure I know who this person is other than she is a Countess and she's on the best (or worst) reality TV show EVER-The Real Whores of NYC. I guess her name is Countess LuAnn de Lesseps. Countess HoAnn de Lepers.

I want to be a total skank/socialite/drunk and marry into royalty then become a stuck-up skank/socialite/drunk with lots of money. My life would be complete.