As all three of my imaginary readers know by now... someone has actually been stupid gullible enough to employ the likes of me. To blog.

To BLOG!

No, not on here. Geez, I KNOW I'm lazy, but not even I am THAT much of a slacker!

No, I actually write a few times daily on that other blog. Besides, it's so much fun, it hardly even feels like work! (Better not repeat that "W" word again, lest my body catches on that I'm actually being productive and immediately seizes up.)

What's that? Oh, you want to know what I blog about?

Well... Oh, look! It's a nice day today, isn't it?

Okay, okay, fine. It's not THAT bad, even though the beat I cover is widely considered to be at the very bottom of the journalistic totem pole - although I have been (unconvincingly) consoled by well-meaning folk that it is definitely still higher up than horoscopes and obituaries.

That's right. I'm a celebrity gossip blogger.

Before you mock my profession, I want to remind you of all those times that you have sneaked a peek at the tabloids while standing in line at the grocery store check-out. And all those times that you have gone even further than that and actually paged through, for example, Heat (if you're in SA) and the National Enquirer (if you're in the States) while you wait. And all those times that you went beyond that and actually slipped it in with the rest of your purchases, to secretly read at home/work/wherever later on! Yes, see? I KNOW.

Well, rest assured that you are NOT alone. I know that too, because that blog actually receives more than 0 hits a day, and boasts more than three imaginary readers. (There are at least seven imaginary ones.)

Although I write a lot about the shenanigans of Britney and Paris and Lindsay and Nicole and the like, I do actually try to give some coverage to South African celebrities as well.

Now, keep in mind that many people in South Africa still don't even have Internet access. (Internet access here is RIDICULOUSLY expensive.) So needless to say, many people here don't quite know what exactly a blog is. (Or a blob. As my mom calls it when she tells people about her daughter, the blobber.)

Funnily enough, those South Africans who have come across the blog, haven't been shy about commenting on some of the posts. Especially the ones dealing with their favourite local celebs.

But don't be mistaken: their comments are not at all a sign that they actually like my writing. Or even, more likely, hate it! In fact, I might as well be chopped liver, because I am entirely ignored. Instead, all of them direct their comments to the celebrity I have written about.

That's right. I am actually getting celebrity fan mail! Only, it's not really mine, because it's not addressed to me. It is really, really strange. As if I'm a medium through which they can communicate with their favourite stars.

Just this past week again, an Afrikaans guy left me (or rather, a local female singer) a lengthy ode about how he absolutely loves and adores her and how he thinks she is the absolute BEST singer EVER in the ENTIRE South Africa. After buttering her up with compliments (and he really lay it on thick!), he abruptly changed his tune: "Look, I just happen to also be a song writer. Here are just some of the songs I have written for you to sing..." and here he proceeds with a lengthy list of titles so sappy, even Mills & Boon would flinch and possibly throw up from it. If you don't believe me, I have taken the liberty to translate some of the titles he sent: The Orphan (Sweetest gift), Lonely without You, Another waltz with my father and - because singing songs that don't contain actual words are huge in Afrikaans circles - Ting Tong Tingeling Too (Deceased Soldier).

I am totally not even kidding about the parantheses and its contents. Just when you think: Ting Tong Tingeling Too! That sounds like a really cheesy but upbeat song! Then you are instantly deflated and brought down to earth by the Deceased Soldier bit.

Now, usually, I let those Dear Celebrity-in-question comments slide, because who am I to burst their bubble? So I allow them to think that their comments probably reached their desired targets.

This time, though, the guy just seemed to have so many career aspirations riding on his comment. It is also evident from those song titles that he is a really sensitive type, no? So I took the trouble of sending him a personal e-mail back:

Dear *Guy's real name inserted here*

Sincerely,
The Jetstreaker Team.

As you can see, I stopped just short of telling him: She does not actually live in these pages...

But I have to admit, I was rather charmed. I mean, it's probably the closest that I myself will ever come to being adored by legions of fans, and to see how devoted some of them are is really touchy AND creepy at the same time!

So my job? It is totally akin to being a celebrity.