Don't Hate Me Because I'm Witty...

[Insert satirical and witty post here.]

Does that work? No? *sigh* Dammit. Ok, this is going to sound self-centered, conceited, arrogant, whatever adjective you'd like to use, but I certainly don't mean to act or appear as any of those things describe. The crux of it is, though, that sometimes it's not easy being this witty.

(Somebody's a little full of himself…)

See? I knew that's how you'd react. I'm being serious here. I don't think it's a stretch to say that you read this blog because you find it entertaining. Why bother otherwise?

(Point taken. Carry on.)

Thank you. I love writing. Love it. LOVE it. Writing is my one true passion and there are those times when the words flow so freely that literally hours will pass, my hands will cramp, and I'll awaken from a trance-like state having written dozens of pages in one sitting. There are other times when I'll get a quirky idea in my head, i.e. Cheetoweenie!! [Which is alive and well, by the way…] and spend twenty minutes or so babbling and blogging for your amusement. Don't get me wrong – I so, truly, deeply appreciate the fact that you read and enjoy my writing. I've long said that if I can make just one person smile per day, I'm doing my job. There are those days, though…

[Insert blank stare here.]

There are just those days when I'll sit down to write and… I got nothin'. Well, I get something. I get a lot of things, actually. I get "I have to do laundry and I wonder if the dog ate another sock and when did I get that paper cut and is it really only 12:05 this day is dragging blech I hope the dog didn't eat another sock because it really looked like she gacked up her spleen the last time and oh the phone just dinged it's only a Facebook notification wait is it Thursday or Friday did I pick up my dry cleaning…."

You get the picture. To paraphrase from Grey's Anatomy (when it was still good) my mind is a dark and twisty place. Sometimes, though, my thought process resembles more of a tangled string of two hundred and fifty Christmas lights of which only the greens and blues are lit and the reds are blinking. Don't even get started on the oranges. I want to write in those times, I really do, but I sit down at the computer and…. Nothing.

I guess I can't be "on" all the time. No one can. We can try, but sometimes you have to, you know, sleep and work and stuff.  Speaking of which… I seem to have entered new territory when it comes to my sleep pattern. As I have been taking medication to regulate the mutant bronchial irritation from hell, I have been, in fact, sleeping.

(GASP!)

I know!! Dogs and cats, living together, mass hysteria!!!! Name the movie that's from, and I shall love thee and hug thee and call thee George. Name the cartoon that's from and I just might marry you. Unless you're a dude. Not that I have anything against dudes marrying dudes, I just happen to prefer the females of my species. Coughcoughboobmancoughcough. *ahem* So yeah, I've actually been sleeping. And dreaming.

(Oh sweet bejeebus, this should be good….)

Right??? So I had this dream. I was at my local law school bar, the only one in town, really, engaged in a game of strip pool, i.e. billiards. Incidentally… true story – I once did actually engage in a game of strip pool at said bar. I am Facebook friends with a couple of the participants in that game, too. Let's see if they read my blog… *snicker* Anywhoos… I'm playing strip pool but it's not with the law school friends. It's me and Colin Farrell versus a female friend of mine who shall remain nameless and Olivia Wilde. The guys have lost their shirts and the girls are in pants and bras. I'm about to sink a shot when a bunch of armed men rush in and steal all the pool balls remaining on the table. That's all they take. Just the balls on the table. Oh, and the little chalk cube. I'm pretty sure one of them took a sip of my beer, too.

The four of us stare at each other, and then I wake up.

(Dude, I… wow. You sure you didn't take an Ambien?)

Scout's honor.

(Wait, were you even ever a Boy Scout?)

No. but I swear I didn't take an Ambien. Weird, huh?

(Seriously. I would love to have just ten minutes inside your brain….)

You're more than welcome to it. I just hope it's not one of those times when I'm imagining the dog gacking. Or when I start wondering just what it is that gives Cheetoweenie everlasting life. Or when I start wondering why, if in the Star Trek universe, they have transporters, do they not transport everywhere? Why are there still flying cars and such? Can't you just beam from place to place? Why did you still need cars and shuttles and…..

(Ok, ok!!! Never mind! I take it back. I think ten minutes might make me go insane.)

Fair enough. But if you think it make you go insane, try living in here. It is a wondrous place, it really is. It's dark, twisty, with just the right dashes of optimism, romanticism, and hope. Add in alcohol or medication and, well, you got yourself a party.

(There is something seriously wrong with you.)

I know. Ain't it great?

© J.J. Goodman 2014. All rights reserved.