Still, just to hedge my bets, I’m going to smear some goat’s blood on my front porch. Can’t be too careful with zombies, you know.
Many people...okay, a few...all right, one...my mom...have asked where I come up with my ideas. Convinced I have a rolodex of possible topics (actually the rolodex just contains my enemies list), they’re shocked when I tell them that I usually just blather on about what’s happening around me.
Or, as I like to say, “How do you know I’m not coming up with a topic now?”
Actually, my writing falls into several types of categories.
First, I usually generate a blog from the most innocuous of everyday events. The breathtaking beauty of a frosty winter morn, the awesome power of a thunderstorm’s rage, the debilitating paralysis of a fart in the frozen foods aisle...all have inspired me to one degree or the other.
Take, for example, the time I used heel balm to soothe my cracked heels. (NOTE: For those already familiar with my “Toe Woes,” feel free to take a break. You’ve earned it.)
After I purchased a tube (packed in a brown paper bag for my privacy) off some guy from the back of a van, I noticed that one of its ingredients was something called “urea,” a technical term for mammal urine. Rather than being horrified like a normal person, I was actually tickled at the thought of smearing monkey piss cream on my feet.
Not only did it give me enough material upon which to wax lyrical (as opposed to wax “car”), it provided me enough mileage to carry on to this day. Meaning that, whenever I get stumped about what to write, I can always fall back on the old reliable “pee feet” angle. What’s more, as I appear to be suffering from a relapse of foot leprosy, it’ll probably come up again.
I really don’t mind talking about my fragrant dogs. Just be grateful I wear socks.
Every 7-10 days, I’ll write what I like to call a “Once Upon a Time…” story. These true tales, glimpses of what it was like growing up in New England, are what I hope are humorous vignettes (snooty French term for “peekaboos”) of life during the 1970s. And probably abundant source material for my therapist.
Of course, in the interest of not offending anyone or, more importantly, being sued, I’ve changed the names of all the characters. Except for the neighborhood bullies. Screw ‘em. They can’t find me. I hope.
I also recently posted a travelogue about Belize. It was great fun writing about a country about which few people are familiar. Especially since I can
then make a lot of stuff up open up a whole new world to people.
|What? You were expecting women? Perv.|
It was such fun telling the story that I’ll probably give you a few more articles about countries I’ve visited. In fact, I already have one written about Iceland which I’ll send along in the near future. It was a pretty cool place (no pun intended). Even though their idea of fun is beating each other over the head with frozen fish, I enjoyed my experiences there. Although they can keep their “Festival of Rotten Shark Heads.”
Next: More Self-Important Yakking. And...a new car!!!
Well, not really. Who do you think I am? Oprah?