Sunday morning brain freeze

[caption id="attachment_514" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Image Source: Quinn.Anya via Flickr"][/caption]

I can't write anymore.

Don't you hate it when you wake up before your brain does?

Brump Brump Brump Brump.

Perhaps I will look at some Avon stuff. I am almost out of bubble bath for the kids.

Brump Brump Brump.

Maybe I should crochet some granny squares and sew them into the shape of underwear and market them as granny panties. But with all those holes they would hardly be practical. Or stretchy. Nobody wants to see a woman with granny panties around her ankles by the water cooler at work.

*Suckles pinky finger*

Or I could eat.

Oh no, I hear Dennis in the other room firmly asking Joe to, "Give me that!" I wonder what he's got? Sharpie? Disposable razor? Blow torch? Hmmm...

*Inspects fingernails*

I really need to clip them. Why do fingernails grow at different paces? The nail on my ring finger is shorter than the nail on my middle finger. I wonder if it's designed that way for a reason?

*Stretches and almost locks up back*

I want that Touch N Brush. That's a good idea. But it's $19.99 and I can expect to wait 2-6 weeks for delivery. Two to SIX weeks? Quite a spread. What's that all about? I wish I could say, "Your dinner will be ready in two to six hours."

*Picks at lip*

Perhaps I will hang some pictures today. I keep putting it off because I can't locate a laser picture hanging helper device like ever. Where do they go? We only have like fifty of them.

*Publishes post*

I should probably post something

Image by .chourmo. via Flickr

Here's a cool little tree.

Dear Blogger Dashboard

Image via Wikipedia

I'm staring at my white box wondering if I'll ever be able to fill it again.

It's been a week. I've been out. I've breathed. I've sniffed. I've hugged. I've sucked salt. And I didn't... well, I didn't think of you once.

Not because I don't need you, Blogger Dashboard. I knew you'd be here waiting. Why? Because you don't have a choice. I control you after all. Ostensibly. In any case, you know I love you deeply.

Get this. I had a productive dream. Yes, it involved the Mac guy from the Mac/IBM ridiculous stupid pointless intellectually insulting battle commercials. And no, I have no idea why. Dreams are just effed up sometimes. BUT I did get some good stuff out of it. For once. Quite unlike those dreams filled with horrible, nasty images that couldn't possibly be written about. By me. I had a dream with promise. After one of the worst nights in recent memory.

WHICH leads me to think that I'm right. It's not possible to be happy and healthy and normal and creative.

In any case, just know that I wasn't thinking about you.

Goodnight.

Writing Exercise: Cricket

Oh Mr. Cricket
You move really fast
when you want to

Some people eat
Crickets with
chocolate

But I think that's really
gross so I don't
really do that.

You're green and
you're mean if you
know what I mean

I like to think of us
as a team me and you
Mr. Green

I have to admit that
I'm using you to break
my own rules

And prove a point to
the naysayers and
pooh-poohers

They claim that descriptive
writing is easy and not prone
to make one look like a fool

To them I say HA just read
this and weep
take that!

and a jar of shampoo.

Image via Randy Cox at Flickr