I got excited because my friend Karen texted me she was in the tub.
Well, yes, I guess I could have become excited because she’s not exactly unattractive. But that didn’t occur to me in the moment. I jumped up from my sofa and bolted directly into the guest bathroom. My master bath just has a boring walk in shower. It’s kind of fancy, but I needed to soak with a friend.
I went on a bath bonanza for the past week.
I realized I hadn’t taken a bath in a while, and I think I was sad about something. So I took a bath. I rocked it out pretty hard in there (meaning I laid down and sat motionless for twenty minutes) and so I repeated the next day, and the day after that. I probably got four in five days.
Tonight the men’s group I’m in had a holiday party at a local pizzeria called Marie’s.
Famous Chicago pizza place that is two-thirds liquor store and one-third restaurant. It’s been around since 1940 and looks like it was last updated in 1971. The decor is ruby red and all-longue. They decided to go balls-in for the holiday decorations and the results were impressive. I love this place.
Since my biology is very dear to my readers I feel it important for you to know that at least once during the night I’m awakened by nature’s call.
Thankfully I sleep mere feet from my bathroom and I simply roll out of bed, take a few steps, and complete the task at hand. I can do it while still dreaming.
The problem is that my mind is always on “joke-creation” mode.
It doesn’t matter if I’m about to fall asleep, riding my bike to work, or having lunch with my favorite nun: Jokes come in whether I want them or not. This is not a “I just can’t help how hilarious I am” kind of thing. Many, if not most, of my jokes would bomb, should I share them. When something funny comes into my head I have to make a snap decision on whether to express it aloud, delete it, or save for later. My willpower is not strong, and I can rarely hold onto a joke for the future. Like a junkie I don’t save my stash for later.
You don’t look like Ken!
These were among the first words spoken to me by TheAnimatedWoman, J.C. Little. For months the AimingLow staff has been referring to me as Ken (of Barbie’s harem), probably because I took the only hunky photo of me and plastered it everywhere online. Just Google one of my stories and you’ll see it next to the search result. In person I’m quite normal looking. I have virtually no muscle definition and my skin is ghostly pale. I’m not a monster, but nobody’s plucking me out of obscurity to dance with Thunder From Down Under.
Tomorrow I’m flying to Atlanta to speak at AimingLow’s blogging conference aptly named NonConference.
This will be my first speaking event where I address bloggers. I’m grateful to have been asked and over the past few months have tried to create a worthwhile presentation/discussion for attendees. My topic is about taking risks with your writing and trusting in your abilities.
There are times when I geniunely say thing I oughtn’t. Yeah, I know. We’ll all do.
But let me give you an example of my version of this gaffe. Back in college I worked at the local grocery in the photo lab. Most of the people I dealt with were students, usually sorority girls dropping off last night’s drunken formal shots. One of my flirting techniques was to say…
In the past whenever I’ve deviated from my normal format – namely, writing about stupid things that happen throughout the day, it never ends up connecting.
Sometimes I do it just to fill content. Earlier this year I started a “send me images and I’ll caption them” kind of thing. And while I was proud of the jokes, it just didn’t feel like what this blog is about. I’ve done the same type of experiment with other features. Anything that’s taken me a step away from my normal format ends up not really working.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
