Hey! Thought it might be fun for you to listen and read.
I’m sitting here, well, not really sitting, it’s more of a 1/2 recline on my bed, trying very hard not to procrastinate with my blentry (thank you for coining that term, Helene) for today. It’s not really procrastination. It’s more about not knowing how to prioritize, manage time, multi-task. I do have a lot to do today like finish my website, finish a friend’s website, vacuum (house and shabby chic pool), laundry (kids are home...see last Monday’s blentry), finish learning Adobe Illustrator, write new material, write a new song with Mike, write today’s bluntly (Oooh. Look what spell check did to blentry!)
I’m sitting here, well, not really sitting, it’s more of a 1/2 recline on my bed, trying very hard not to procrastinate with my blentry (thank you for coining that term, Helene) for today. It’s not really procrastination. It’s more about not knowing how to prioritize, manage time, multi-task. I do have a lot to do today like finish my website, finish a friend’s website, vacuum (house and shabby chic pool), laundry (kids are home...see last Monday’s blentry), finish learning Adobe Illustrator, write new material, write a new song with Mike, write today’s bluntly (Oooh. Look what spell check did to blentry!)
And what to write, what to write. What. To. Write.
It’s the same old same old. Throughout the week, I’ll be driving, shopping, showering
(HA!), cleaning, cooking, and these brilliant
blog ideas will hit me. But situations
don’t always lend themselves to being prepared to jot down genius as
pens, paper, recording devices, iphones, computers, whatever, aren’t readily
available at all times... which is usually the time that I'm struck with brilliance.. and
that’s when I find myself having this conversation ... with myself:
Me: That’s a fabulous
idea. You should write it down
somewhere so you don’t forget.
Me: I know, right? It is a great idea. I might be
nominated for a Pulitzer Prize with this blentry. I don’t have a pen, recording device, or whatever, so I’ll
just make a point to remember it.
Me: Pulitzer Prize? Is that the award they give for
blentries? You’re a little
delusional...but it is a really good idea, so you should probably write it down
so you don’t forget.
Me: You might be right about the Pulitzer
Prize. I have a tendency to get a
little ahead of myself
Me: Seriously, write that sh!t down before
you forget. You do this with
premises for jokes all the time and then you KICK yourself because you get busy
with like 40 quatchalillion (see last Monday’s blentry) other things and then
YOU FORGET.
Me: I WON’T FORGET! Swear to GOD! Hey. I watched
Iron Maiden last night. It was
about Margaret Thatcher.
Me: Iron Lady.
Me: Yeah. Iron Lady. Is
Margaret Thatcher dead or alive?
Me: I don’t know. Why don’t you just Google it?
Me: Well, obviously I’m not near a computer
to Google Margaret Thatcher’s death status or I’d be typing out the clever idea
that I had for this week’s blentry.
Which reminds me that I have to check on Abe Vigoda’s death status. Remember Fish? And what was his wife’s name?
Me: Bernice. I love
that term Blentry. Helene hit the
nail on the head with that one, no?
Me: Yeah, totally. Uh oh. I should not have had all that raw broccoli doused in
tzatziki sauce. It’s making me
totally gassy.
Me: No, no, no, no, no. Do. Not. F%CKING.
Fart! I’m serious.
Me: I can’t help it. I have a sensitive stomach.
Me: I DON’T CARE! You are a lady!!!
Me: An Iron Lady? Jesus...my stomach is cramping.
Me: You know WHAT,
Iron Idiot? This is really getting
to be a problem. I’m going to be
really pissed if you drop ass right here.
Me: I’m...trying...really...I am.
Me: And fart humor? Are we really going down this road in a
blentry? So hacky. Just the sign of a lazy comic who can’t
rely on decent, smart humor so they have to resort to toilet humor. Do you really think Amy, Joanne,
Helene, Rhonda, Krystyna, or Maribeth have to resort to this kind of
stuff? No. Because they’re smart, funny, classy
ladies unlike you, you juvenile nincom--
Me: hee hee
Me: SHUT UP! Your mother would be mortified if she
knew about this. You’re like a 13
year-old boy.
Me: Do you think Margaret Thatcher farted a
lot? I bet not. That’s probably why she always had that
stern look on her face. Keeping
all that toxic stuff inside can make a person ugly. Ha Ha Ha ... ooops.
Me: OH MY GOD NOOOOO! I’m leaving.
Me: Wait! Wait! I’m sorry. I
couldn’t help it. It slipped out when I laughed at the thought Margaret Thatcher farting. It’s really not that bad. Wait! Jeez... You're acting like I'm Daniel Tosh! What was that idea???
Me: Go to hell, you putrid pig. I’m not telling you. Next time keep a pen and paper next to
you, and a CORK, you jerk-off!
Me: Well, I’m glad I’m gone. I have to vacuum ... and work on that
acceptance speech. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Pulitzer Blog Academy, Firstly, I'd like to thank you for being brave enough to admit that you see humor in far---"
(postscwipt: My 12 year old thought this was hysterical. I seem to have found my niche)
(postscwiptscwipt: This is dedicated to the one I love)
(postswiptscwiptscwipt: I was just told that this is much funnier when I read it aloud. Perhaps I will record it and embed the audio clip for your listening pleasure.)
(postswiptscwiptscwipt: I was just told that this is much funnier when I read it aloud. Perhaps I will record it and embed the audio clip for your listening pleasure.)
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