Jesus God, it’s my blogiversary. I’ve been writing this nonsense for three years today; going by the number of words alone, that’s two novels’ worth. Considering I seem to have stalled somewhere around one third of the way through my real novel, I suppose it’s clear where I should have been channeling my energy.

Just kidding! I love you, dear reader. I would never write some stupid, critically acclaimed book that will become a bestseller and earn me millions of dollars if it meant I couldn’t give you regular updates about my dog’s poop.

So what have you done in the past three years? I’d tell you what I’ve done, but I forgot. That’s what the archives are for. Sometimes, I click through to see what I was doing on THIS DAY IN HISTORY. For example, on this day, three years ago, I started this web log:

Credit where it is due. I have wickedly stolen the idea of a web log from my friend Joe, who writes about his sex life, and Wesley Crusher, who writes about why he is not as obnoxious as he appears on television. (LIES? On TV?!?!) I do not yet know what I will write about, but readers who share my actual experiences will no doubt notice that I have spruced them up for publication. I cannot be blamed for this; I am not a notably exciting person. Those of you in Tennessee who imagine that life in New York City is an everlasting and inevitable pageant of theater, gallery openings, and nights on the town have never witnessed my typical day of sitting around the apartment, in my pajamas, entranced alternately by whatever is on the computer screen and reruns of "Three's Company."

This is like “Inside the Music.” I wish we could have a televised retrospective with a bunch of talking heads discussing my blogging career. I could reveal all of my secrets. For example, “Joe” in the paragraph above is a code name for none other than Faustus (which has since been revealed to be a code name for someone else).*

Then Joe/Faustus/Someone Else would pop up on the screen and credit me for all of his vast success to date, and then they’d cut to me crediting him with saving me from going insane. Then Rob would pop up on the screen and credit me for all of his vast success to date, and Goblin would comment on that time we dropped acid and came back to our senses in a squirrel lair in Central Park. Good times.

A lot can change in three years. On 5 June 2002, I was unemployed, as crazy as a loon, and wrestling with the sneaking suspicion that the writing was on the wall for my relationship with Rob. On 5 June 2005, I am unemployed, as crazy as a loon, and happily married to Rob.

OK, this is getting self-indulgent, but if anyone else wants to credit me with all of his or her vast success to date, the comments are open.

* I didn’t know how to make links back then. Also, I have since stopped watching “Three’s Company.”