Is That All 15 Minutes Of Fame Gets Me?

When I found out I was going to be the Herald on Sunday’s blogger of the week, I was naturally elated. I couldn’t help but dream of the fame and vast riches that would come my way as a result of the media attention.

I sometimes imagine myself as the Susan Boyle of the blogosphere. Okay, so my blog’s a bit rough around the edges, but I feel sure people will be entranced by the purity and beauty of my message, if only they’d stop to hear me.

So much for that. Since Sunday I’ve had not one request for an interview from either the Herald or Dominion, and John Campbell hasn’t called.

It also appears Woman’s Weekly may not want to do a full exposé on my life. I was expecting “my year from Hell” or “family heartbreak for genius blogger”, or some similar drivel (drivel they’d pay me for!), but I’m still waiting for the call.

I don’t even have one hate site aimed at me, nor do I have a stalker.

Paul Henry won’t go on air calling me a retard, because he doesn’t even know I exist.

And just where exactly are those groupies? Calling all the good time girls! Hello!?

Oh fame, you are such a fickle creature!