Pretty Please with Sprinkles and a Cherry on Top

I hate to beg. That is unless begging gets me what I want. You see I'd rather not beg or ask at all for what I want. I'd rather just have people use their ESPN to figure out what I want, when I want it, and what color I want it in.

I've actually only known a precious few people who have that kind of extra sensory ability and they, only on rare occasions care to give the object of my desire to me.

So here I am asking, imploring, begging even for you and all your friends and literate acquaintances to follow this blog.
It's ever so witty. It will probably make you laugh and takes very little of your time. It doesn't result in magazine salesteens or Seventh Day Adventurists or Thinner Brush Salesmen coming to your door.

Following my blog will not result in being exposed to herpes, AIDS, chicken pox, Valium deficiency, or waxy buildup on your kitchen floor. It will not cause halitosis or housitosis or toesitosis or fleas.

If you're reading this and you know how much it means to me to see a new follower listed, you'd say to yourself, "Self," you'd say, "This is such a ding dang small thing to do to make that fiddy fav year woman way down there in the hot hot south, feel happy. Why, Self," you'd say, "We simply owe it to ourselves and that poor ol' slightly off center woman to get as many people following her blog as possible!"

Yes, I'm sure that's what you'd say. And then you'd go about clicking on that follow button and cajoling all your friends into doing the same.

I mean it's not like I'm asking you to vote for me or campaign for me. Just read the words of a crazy woman from a safe distance. Could be fun, eh?

Come on. . . . live on the edge. Click for FaysofLife.