I'm not sure I'm ready for all this fame. I thought I was, but I've been in the news so much lately that I worry it's starting to go to my head. I mean, fame is awesome, and the more times my name is featured in the media the more famous I become, which in turn makes me more awesome.

So really, it's out of my hands.

So, yep, there is another newspaper article featuring my name. Apparently my lost pregnant dog has been found. Now it doesn't matter that I don't have a dog, let alone a pregnant one, or that I don't live in Britain or have a daughter. It's in the newspaper, so it must be true. If this report had appeared on some blog, well that would have been a different story. But newspapers report nothing but facts, so I should feel relieved to have my pregnant dog back home. I guess.

I should also be a little pissed about the one reader comment on the article. Listen, Hale, we secure our gates just fine. I admit I don't know what gate you're referring to, because we really don't have anything that constitutes as a gate (we have a screen door, is that what you mean?), but if we did you can bet your bloody crumpets that it would be secured. And for the record, we didn't know Hannah was preggers. You think I'm a vet or something? I'm too busy blogging to know how to tell if a dog is pregnant. So lay off. Go back to your fish and chips and your Are You Being Served? marathon. Just leave me and my family and my supposed pregnant dog alone.

So you can see why I'm a bit hesitant to become super famous. If this is what it's like, having random people criticize you for not securing your gates and letting your pregnant dog that you don't have get lost, well, then I'm not sure I want any part of it. How do Brad and Angelina live like this? I have a new found sympathy for them. Imagine all the pregnant dogs they've been accused of losing. Why can't you regular people just leave us famous people alone?