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  1. Devolution of Thought

    Monday, July 23, 2012

    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!)

    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? 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.)

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