Dangerous little distractions

So this is blogging. Hmm. I remember the days when a person’s diary was a private, intimate little thing that one hid under the floorboards (with a rug, and perhaps a rocking chair, on top for extra security). Now, it seems, diaries are splashed about on the Web with all the subtlety of Britney Spears behind a steering wheel. How times have changed. Dangerous times, one might conclude. Just look what happened to that French woman – the one who innocently disclosed all that scandal about her office, only to pay for it later. Did she really think nobody would catch on that it was her? And, of course, there was the diary of delectable Sebastian (Ryan Phillippe) in Cruel Intentions, which so beautifully undid SMG’s scheming step-sister-from-hell. Really, why do we keep these things?

Anyway, this is my diary, or “blog”. Better watch my step, dangerous things. I’ve never been known for keeping my mouth shut, so it’s probably best I focus on things like film and TV, rather than cocaine, sex and debauchery. Nope, I’m not gonna follow in Sebastian’s footsteps, though that all turned out okay in the end, right? Right?