I'm doing my usual thing when I don't know what to write about which is looking around my desk and saying things in my head like "Once, this pen..." and "So, I'm tearing the pages off my Star Wars calendar..." and it's pretty much a miracle that every post I write isn't about envelopes because those are on my desk too and I am feeling a little less than inspired this morning so yeah...a post about envelopes would be rad. And then I'm all "Shit. I could write a post about envelopes. Envelopes are cool." and then I'm doing that thing again where I've said the same word too many times and now I'm chanting "Envelopes. Envelopes. Envelopes" at the computer screen while I try to think of something to write and then someone walks in on me and I feel silly because when I turn to look at them I'm trying different annunciations and that one comes out "En-Veeee LOPE!?" but it sounds like a question and The Boy just kind of stands there blinking at me. I really don't blame him.
And then I see this cool drawing of a panda The Girl has left for me since I'm trying to get some good artwork for this blog because the current design makes my eyes bleed eels, and okay it's not that bad, but still it's pretty awful and if you think this is some underhanded attempt at soliciting help from people with design skills than I am deeply offended and I challenge you Sir, to a pistol duel at dawn, but watch out because I use the "other" set of dueling rules which exist only in my head and involves shooting you with a rifle from a hidden vantage point as you leave the building and then dragging your body out to the dueling range and standing over your corpse in my knickers and probably dabbing the corners of my mouth with a silk napkin or something as everyone comes running out to see who the winner is. And then they hoist me up on their shoulders and are all "For he's a jolly good fellow!" because everyone secretly hates you and your assumptions about whether or not I want your help, please.
And now I'm thinking about what it would be like to bleed eels out of your eyes, and that is making me feel woozy because 1) I motherfuckin' hate motherfuckin' eels. and b) I don't want my eyes to bleed anything except maybe love and beauty because those are nice and don't live underwater in reefs, and look all friendly as you swim past, but guess what? that smile is just a trick and now you've got an eel eating your face. Happy? Me neither. Love and beauty would never try to eat your face, they would just sparkle a bit. Sparkles are way better than eels is my point.
Where was I?
* I've reached the point in my writing career where titling posts after bad puns related to Broadway showtunes is reasonable and funny and I'm chuckling to myself about "It's a Hard Cock Life" so really maybe it's time to step away from the computer for a bit.