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This is post number 10. I am glad to say that I have achieved the unimaginable, the unthinkable, the highest honor a blogger can achieve. Yes, I am a decapost blogographer.

I have been asked by many people, "How can you be such an amazing blogophite?" And to them I say, "I didn't just set up a blog one day and start typing random thoughts into the computer." Which is pretty funny because that's actually exactly what I did. I can't tell anyone that though. Think about the pandemonium that would ensue if people knew how easy it was to become a super-evil-villain-blogmaster.

You know what, I may be the greatest blogtenant that has ever tickled the beige plastic, but just between you and me, I know that I really suck. Now you may think that I said two completely different things in that last sentence, but who asked you anyway?

In celebration of my tenth publishmentorium, I would like to treat you all to a photo from a special time in my life.

There was a time when I felt the potent rush of inexplicable joy through teaching people how to sweat to the oldies. And then Richard Simmons came along and stole my whole life out from under my rainbow striped leotard. I thought that I could trust him. Well, you all know the rest of the story. That Lance is gone. I will never ride that neon comet through the sky again. That's ok though. We can look at this picture and maybe, just maybe, we can reach way up into the heavens and catch some comet dust from a life long past.

Ok, I made that all up. Or did I? You be the judge.