Follow the Yellow Brick Road (NOT)

I went to my blog today and discovered gadzooks, that I had a follower.
It's someone I know, and no, there are no stalker issues involved. She's one of those human generators with too much energy to simply stalk – she'd most likely pounce.
However, the thought of followers had not occurred to me until about five minutes ago.
Wait, somebody might actually read this? Does this mean that now I have to concoct cogent sentences instead of jotting down the rambling thoughts that flit through my head like mosquitoes in July?
And what does this “follower” thing mean, anyhow?
It brings to mind images of Dorothy and her merry gang of misfits, in her gingham dress and glittery red shoes following the intensely yellow brick road to Emerald City, in hopes of getting whatever it was that they seemed to need so desperately. (What Dorothy needed was a week with Carson Kressley to my way of thinking. I don't believe any female over the age of seven should be caught in gingham.)
It brings to mind images of dogs in the Yukon, those white eyed powerhouses that mushers tie together and then let 'em rip, with the humans hanging on to the sled for dear life as the team rips into the night atop frozen mile after frozen mile. Think about the view – and I don't mean the TV show – what all but the two lead dogs are forced to look at while they careen across the tundra.
I could go on, but won't – preferring to state here that anyone who decides to “follow” me had best realize I've a terrible sense of direction and get lost on the way to my closet. I have an uncanny knack of falling into these cosmic vortexes – like each and every time I am in Miami and inevitably end up in Hialeah due to some mysterioso turn of the road.
This is much like the movie Being John Malkovitch in which characters enter a smallish door into the actor's brain, seeing things through his eyes for a brief spell until eventually they get spit out onto the New Jersey turnpike. They come out of the experience a little more enlightened, albeit confused, and curiously wanting to return.
Let's just leave it at this – don't follow me, instead hang around with me a little bit. The view will be much, much better and glitzy footwear is optional.
Amen, and pass the mustard.