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Alas, my heart is broken. WordPress  does not love me. In fact, WP is totally indifferent to me. The happiness engineers just refuse to engineer any happiness. I don’t know what I’ve done to cause such rejection and complete indifference.

I would kindly dash myself off a cliff somewhere, but those  cliffs always have some half dressed hispanic guy on horseback dashing about, and knowing me, I would just forget the task at hand. Then I would be mindlessly pacing back and forth on the edge of cliff, totally oblivious to the waves crashing below, stalking some shirtless  random dude on horseback like a complete moron. Actually, that doesn’t sound half bad….

I grow weary of always submitting polite inquires only to be completely ignored. My followers are frequently unsubscribed against their will and I have to go hunt people down. This is awkward because one never knows when someone slipped off on purpose because they just genuinely hate me. It’s okay to hate me people, but it is not okay for someone else to decide you must hate me. Or for a glitch to keep deciding to unsubscribe you.

I don’t mind a bit of stalking, in fact a big part of blogging involves stalking other bloggers. But I simply haven’t got the  time to stalk everyone, over and over again, day after day!

So I often hear, how come you unsubscribed me? How come you keep blocking me? Why aren’t you in my reader anymore? I don’t. I never have. There are only two people in my entire history of blogging who I actually filter and I don’t even really do that, I just send them through spam with the other potted meat products, because most of what they write is generally gelatinous and offensive. I have never unsubscribed anyone.

It’s a maddening situation, but being a proper femme fatale here, after exhausting all other avenues all that is left now is begging, pleading. Oh please, oh please WordPress, do fix the glitch or set me free or respond to my inquiries or something! Your silence is just deafening, cruel, cruel, I tell ya.

Alas, woe is me. Unrequited love, there’s really nothing worse, is there?