Dear lovelies,

From what I hear, I am to be one of the week’s last guest-posters while Jamie is off frolicking with Mickey Mouse and the Princesses in Florida. That means, that by now, you a) have already read materials from the A-list bloggers of the Oh How Lovely armada, b) are sick of guest-bloggers altogether and really just want Jamie to come home, c) have been lured here from No Ordinary Rollercoaster with the promise of hot, sexy porn (Joke’s on you, pervs! And you, Jamie, who will now have to deal with these keywords for the rest of your life!).

No matter what your answer or how much you want sweet, little Jamie to rescue your Google Readers…it’s Ben Day here at Oh How Lovely and I couldn’t be happier about it unless of course I was in a big tub of puppies, eating copious amounts of Doritos while listening to Kelly Clarkson. But then, as any of my faithful readers would tell you, I have plenty of puppy in my life to begin with and when it comes to Doritos I really should avoid the extra calories before I’m required to post another I’m-going-to-get-in-shape post.

If you’re keeping track, I have officially gone two full paragraphs without saying a single thing of value, let alone finding a theme for this post.

That’s what happens when you’re paid writer monkey – when your days are spent with key messages, advertising quips and the oh-so-overrated clarity. You end up starting a blog, mashing your forehead into the keyboard, slapping a picture of your mini dachshund on it, clicking publish and hoping for the best.

Add a dash of homo-tastic undertones (but not enough to clue in potential readers within my extended family) deliciously drunk and quotable parents and friends (“Ask that girl if she wants to play with Calvin?”…“I am NOT going up to a little girl on the street and saying: hey you, come to the backyard. We have a puppy and candy!”…“Tell her we have cigarettes too! Those are still cool right?!”) and you can kick back and wait for the book deals to come soaring in.

And while you wait, if nothing else, you’ll somehow manage to capture the attention of one Chicago reader whose blog shames you into shelling out the cash for a professional design and who will eventually request that you post for her while she’s in Disney – a place much like the 20-something blogosphere except without the binge-drinking and anonymous sex. Okay, without the drinking at least…that means YOU, Sleeping-Around Beauty.

You’ll start writing without any topic, purpose or strategy and end up reading back the tragic train-wreck of a tale that has become your life. You’ll wipe away that one, obligatory tear that you learned in a high school theatre class, knowing that another opportunity at attracting international acclaim has been wasted, and you’ll click that publish button one more time…