The things I do for you people…
I stuck a post-it on my bedside lamp recently. It was another of my middle of the night thoughts. You know, besides the usuals. “I’m thirsty.” “It’s 4 am, why am I awake?” And “Neat. An erection.”
This morning I decided to take a look at it. (The post-it, not the erection.)
It says, “You know that you are getting older when even your fantasies are making concessions.”
I have no idea what lead to me jotting this down.
Maybe I had a dream that involved only four, instead of the regular six
stewardesses plane monkeys flight attendants.
Now that I’ve read it again, it almost sounds wise, right? Right??
I never liked you.
So, I stuck that same post-it on my PC monitor and expected it to magically open my mindhole and pull out a fantastic blog post that would blow you away and cause you to write my name with hearts around it in your notebooks.
That goes for you ladies too.
I opened blogger. I looked at the post-it. I scratched my elbow. I wondered what Shakira has been up to lately. I remembered the night when I wrote on another post-it, “I wanna know what love is and I want you to shooooow me… with crude hand-drawn birds, bees and Eva Mendes.”
Still, inspiration remained as elusive as a notch on a Jonas Brothers’ head board. As rare as a Dinah Lohan grounding. As vexing as a — Shit. Forgot where I was going with that one.
Point is, I still had no good ideas for a blog post.
And if you are anything like me — Yooou WISH! — you sometimes struggle to come up with a blog post idea.
So, since I am delightful and helpful, I decided to give you some ideas to get you started. This could be a meme, just much, much less gay. You take one of these ideas and write a post with it. Then you can link back to this post. Or not. I really don’t give much of a shit either way.
And here are the ideas…
She fought against waking up for as long as she could.
The morning light causing an explosion of pain in her head, reminded her about what she did last night.
Even if there wasn’t screeching head pain, the dry mouth and overwhelming urge to vomit may have been a bit of a clue.
As she tried to piece together the previous nights activities, she became aware that the breathing she was hearing wasn’t her own.
She hesitantly looked to her left. After a moment of panic at seeing a male form there, she recognized a tattoo on the right shoulder.
“Not too bad then,” she thought.
She then noticed an empty tequila bottle in the bed between them. She thought that fully explained why she ended up in bed with tattoo boy.
What it did not explain, however, was the bedraggled rodeo clown sprawled over the foot of their bed
He had seen just about everything, he supposed, in his career as a doctor.
And anything he hadn’t seen, he was fairly certain that his father had told him about from his own days in the white coat.
That was until today.
He walked into the examination room and saw Earl.
“Good morning, Earl. How is — Wow. Is that what I think it is?”
“It’s a jar of peanut butter, doc.”
“And my penis is stuck right in there.”
“That is what I thought was going on here, Earl. Oh god… You don’t have a dog, do you?”
“What do you think, doc?”
“Well, there’s good news and bad news. The good news is that it isn’t ‘Crunchy’…”