Today it finally happened. I hit the wall. The gloom descended. My head turned into a polka-playing accordion from hell. Nothing productive came out of the brain. I paced, I fumed, I talked to The Cat. I sought inspiration in all the usual places. Neither Jack nor Jim had anything to offer. I actually didn't have any Jim Beam in the house, but that's another issue.
I tried blogging, reading all these other blogs, looking for inspiration. Zero, zip, zilch, nada. And there's this one woman who is so much better than me, so much funnier, so much faster, so much better with words, enormously attractive, smarter than me and all my CPUs. I was totally outclassed. Overmatched. Outwitted. Zeflufficated.
Hysteria set in.
So, I did the only thing humanly possible for me. I went to the kitchen, made a little snack, and went upstairs and got under the covers and hid. I started with a little soup from my little thermos. And I had a little of my tuna fish on toast, with a little cheese on it. And since I was an anxiety eater, I put a little pate on top, because if I tried putting it on crackers, there's be a high speed death, and this little story would be over. And then it hit me, the solution. And I could end this little travesty of senseless craziness, illustrative of my grief, my inability to get a little solace in my own bed. I wasn't even a pale imitation of the 'real thing', and therein lay the solution. I finished my little snack and started to leap out of bed.
Suddenly, my wife rolled over and said something in Russian. Startled, I said, "what are you trying to say?" This, naturally, woke her up. She wanted to know what was wrong. I simply responded, "The blog needs freshening up, some young blood, some life." As she was drifting off, she said, "call one of your bloggy buddies on your board..." I did tell her sleeping body that it was blogger buddies, but she didn't hear me.
So, I fired off a fast plan to Alison, and I am waiting for her to get back to me. A merger, or a hostile take over, something that might make me laugh again. I can't wait to see what she says. Ali knows about everything worth . She knew there were really six (6) mother sauces, not five (5) when I didn't. And that's why there's no meeting today. Maybe Ali has something up?
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10 comments:
Your wife speaks Russian? Because my future husband (yeah, the one who doesn't know that I'm alive) is Russian. Maybe she could put in a good word for me...in Russian.
parle ruskie
Sixteenth post and he already wants to call in a relief pitcher... ah, well, that's a ceo for you.
Oh, the pressure!
Okay, here's what's up: it's almost time for me to go do my workout. While I am exercising, I will try to come up with a plan. How's that sound?
so you are delegating to the minions? (sorry Alison, you aren't a minion, that was just a figure of speech, haha).
Don't worry about comparing yourself to other bloggers--- a blog is for YOU, not for comparison purposes.
oh, and your shouldn't eat in bed. I have put my spawn in time-out for less. crumbs in the sheets, you know.. weather cooling off-- bugs coming in. 'nuff said.
(that should have been "you," not "your."
All might have been lost if you hadn't come up with the word "Zeflufficated". I was very impressed...still I have no idea what it means but I'm so impressed I don't care!
I'm back from my workout, and I'm sorry to announce:
I got nuthin'.
Of course, later I may well have something.
Good to have you here Spoon. Zeflufficated, which is naturally related to zeflufflicated, is a post or two all by itself. Might be a book. We'll have to wait and see.
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