Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Bottleneck-Brace Yourselves

 Tuesday.  And yes, that's a squab next to the nuclear-reactor-sized sandwich. 

After my cereal-coffee combo (tragically leftover metropolis light-roast, and as much as I love said roaster, it's the dry-hump of quality beans) I, erroneously made my wheat-grass banana-ginkgo-boloba smoothie too soon, and am consequently, uncomfortably full.  Let's compare this to (for men at least): when a pronounced need for urinating befalls you just before sex.  Sometimes, even in my sexy voice, "Baby I have to pee, I'll be right back!" when things are hot and heavy is in no way conducive to what's about to go down, which, usually would be me in light of my sense-of-bladder-urgency.  So, while our hypothetical-dude is making sweet, sweet love as only he can, while having to micturate, it still, of course, feels good, but there's a contingent of his sensors/nerve-endings/consciousness split-off from the coital-euphoria  that, not unlike Rainman keeps uttering, "I gotta pee! I gotta pee!  I GOTTA PEE!"

I suppose my low-brow situation is analogous to a myriad of activity and superfluous riff-raff we stuff into our day: I'm totally guilty of this.  To be more accurate, more incisive w/r/t myself said multi-tasking could be one of my greatest inhibitors as a writer.  And -- if anyone is so very bold, I'll offer here and now for someone to fashion some sort of chain/leash/harness I can attach to my desk.  So the next time I get the urge to merge/splurge/converge 35 things at once I'll be pleasantly reminded via whiplash or an S&M-worthy welt, where exactly my priorities lie: to The Page.

Speaking of The Page: per my maudlin commentary, my tenure in the Second City Writing Program is coming to a close.  We have 2 more classes and then, the final class, is producing a Revue (sketch-comedy show for you philistines out there -- totally joking, I didn't know either before I signed-up).  Said revue won't be until August -- which, if you listen closely, is giving me a tremendous, tumescent, distended sigh of relief, because I can finally finish Apartment Hunting and move on to other projects: like promoting the living shit out of this blog!

So The Challenge/Contest/Surreptitious Attempt To Harness Your Talents:

I want to make Healthy Book Club stickers, but, for all my lovable literary goodness I have zero photoshop skills.  So if you're out there, if anyone is out there, who feels the pang of awesomeness in their respective loins: 
  1. Please design a template using the typewriter on the page
  2. Obviously Healthy Book Club and the website...
  3. And my neato tagline(s): Let's Go Get Some Payback! OR Don't you deserve to feel Good about yourself?
  4. Oh!  And come derivation of Courier Font 
I will give said individual a veritable Balloon-Drop's worth of credit and unyielding glory -- and you're work will be all over the City of Chicago, thus inching me further to omnipotent-stardom.  That being said, I'm going to throw my clothes in the dryer.  

xoxoxo,
-m

No comments: