It’s her parade. She can hide if she wants to.

The Bloggess is a wonderful thing (as is love – thank you, Michael Bolton, we’re aware, please wait your turn), and whoever invented her should be given a parade.  So, you know, that would include everyone she’s ever come into any sort of contact with.  No, that makes it sound like she’s only who she is because of other people, and I don’t think that’s right.  She should get some credit for molding herself into who she is (as should everyone, of course, good and bad).  So maybe I just want to give The Bloggess a parade.  Of course, she probably wouldn’t go, or maybe she’d hide in the crowd (either of which would be totally okay).  She can send a stand-in – maybe someone in a red dress.  Oh, EVERYone in the parade could wear a red dress!  If they wanted to.  No pressure.

In a recent post, she used Twitter and the Benedict Cumberpatch Name Generator (which I wish I’d known existed when I posted the thing about him a while back) to name her new fish, and between the suggestions and the picture of the lemur who looks like he’s about to jump out of skin in panic, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing.  I am SO naming my first horse Rinkydink Clompyclomp.  (Someday I’ll own a horse, just you wait and see.)

And now it’s Michael Bolton’s turn (warning: language not safe for children):

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