This Thursday on ABC, 8:30/7:30c, watch Samantha Who?, episode: “THE DOG,” because I wrote it, which means it’s the only time my name’s in the credits at the front of the episode — the only time my family feels confident in telling people I write on the show. (“Well, otherwise your name goes so fast at the end, and they don’t see it, and I look like a liar!”)

And now you can point at my name and shout, “That’s my friend!” Or some of you will go, “I used to know this girl!” And maybe some of you will be all, “Man, I really should call her instead of just reading about her. I miss her.” And then some of you will be like, “I know this girl! Well, I mean, I kind of know her. I read her journal. Blog. I used to read it when it was a journal, and it was way funnier back then, and she talked about her life and stuff, but now she kind of doesn’t really do that, I guess because she’s too good for blogging or whatever, and if I’m being honest, I’m just not into blogs like I used to be, once I got the promotion and the baby was born, it’s just like–” and then the other person on the couch will say, “Are you done? Because now I have to rewind and watch this entire scene again so I can find out what happened.”

I remember I was writing various drafts of the outline for this episode through September of last year, in like, seriously a variety of cities and forms of transportation, including I think maybe even at one point on a boat. Then finished the first draft of the script the same afternoon I had company from all over the country arriving for the Baby Doll Brawl, which was that weekend (I just saw that picture of me taking a picture of my bruises and even I winced. No wonder people kept trying to talk me out of it back then. These days I don’t look nearly that beat-up, I promise. I don’t fall nearly as much as I used to.) Obama got elected during the bajillion rewrites. We shot it in… December, I think? I don’t remember; by then I was kind of melting down. It feels like I worked on this episode for about four months straight a million years ago, and now here it finally is. Like a weird little time capsule packed with memories.

Watch it, buy it, stream it… whatever makes you happy. And thanks. I never forget that I wouldn’t have this job if it weren’t for this site right here, back when blogs were journals, when I got lucky enough to find you.