Close the curtains. This is my second debut.

I work under a pseudonym so I don't embarrass my mother, incite bitch fights with my friends, or get sued by a control freak.
I have realized that the scariest thing is non-fiction. Apart from my occasional experiments with fiction, I write about what I experience, which means I record the stupid comments, private conversations, and pathetic pick-up lines in my memo pad (who is affectionately called Mr. Handy-Dandy). My scribbled notes are then used for my writing. I know it is immoral, and possibly illegal, to then post my writing on the internet--real names, quotes, everything. I learned this the hard way. My impulsive writing got me into deep shit*. If you tell me a secret I won't tell a soul, at least audibly. I can't help myself from writing about it and then posting it on my blog. On any given blog post I am comfortable with anyone reading it, except maybe one person. A few weeks ago that one person read that one blog post that was never intended for he or she to see. Thus, the days of my real name as a writer has ended, the days when I used real names has ended, and my first blog with its lame title has ended as well.
Granted, some of you do know my real name.  You are the few that read my former blog and respected my former writings. I emailed you, and it looks like you had the energy to click on the link I provided.
You might know me personally. You might know that I have a flat ass, but that won't stop me form acting like I have a donk on the internet.
All I ask is that you respect my anonymity. Don't go on Facebook publicizing that I have returned to the blogosphere, or comment on this blog including my real name. Hey, like every blogger I am a publicity whore. A blogger's self confidence is determined by the amount of readers, comments, and profile views. If I was mathematically minded I would create an equation that equates my happiness to blog attention.
Real blog posts that have interesting content are pending. Creating a new identity takes a long fucking time.

*nope, not telling you the details. nice try. you even read my footnote. 

I doodle the ugly way.