My real name is on my blog.
I want you to think my real name is on my blog because I'm willing to stand behind everything I write, thumbing my nose at the safety of anonymity and proudly tearing off the bullet-proof vest of cowardice.
My real name is on my blog because I'm a complete and utter attention-whore.
Everybody I know is aware that I have a blog, because I'm a complete and utter attention whore.
Somewhat irrelevantly, sometimes I wear bright red stockings, because I'm a complete and utter attention whore.
Consequently (as a result of mostly the blog stuff, and a bit less because of the red stockings), it's not just people I like who read my blog. Some complete arseholes I know read my blog. In some cases it's their only redeeming quality.
Unfortunately, if something happens to someone I know and I want to blog about it, often I can't. I might have been sworn to secrecy. I might use my dwindling sense of social propriety and decide that it's better to keep it on the down-low. I might be worried about hurting someone's feelings. I might just want to avoid looking like a gossipy bitch.
Anyway, a person I know did something hilarious on the weekend. And then kept doing it. Then, the next day, they did it again. I have a feeling it won't be the last time, and I'm going to end up having to talk to them about it, even though I secretly want them to keep doing it, because it's incredibly entertaining for me.
For you: not so much.