Have you ever written a blog post that was very much intended to be funny, but you didn’t understand exactly how funny it was until everyone commented on it? And you truly loved all of those comments, just as much as you love Rainbows and Unicorns, maybe even more. And, you genuinely loved making all of those people laugh way more than you love Bacon, and Cheese, and Chocolate, and Vodka.
And then you congratulated yourself for a job well done.
But then you realize you’ve just gained a bunch of ‘New Readers’, which is great, grand, and wonderful, however they are probably expecting you to deliver yet another blog post, and one that could top that last blog post, or at least come close in comparison, and you certainly don’t want to disappoint any of your ‘Long Time Readers’. When suddenly, you felt all kinds of enormous pressure to provide glorious tales with perfectly captioned photos – except that absolutely nothing amusing, or remotely entertaining has happened in your life for several days.
So you’re left staring at a blank piece of paper, taunting you, which is only the very beginning of a downward spiral that includes but is not limited to: spoon feeding yourself copious amounts of ice cream, stuffing your face with brownies, wandering aimlessly, and wearing the same pajamas for three days in a row, because you’re fairly positive your next blog post is definitely going to fall short of your own unrealistic expectations, and then everyone will know you’re really NOT all that funny.
And since you don’t need to shower, or change your pajamas, or stop eating ice cream covered brownies, particularly when you’re battling against your own impossible demands, you just get into the fetal position and simply concede to defeat.
That is, until you notice, ohmyzod has it really been an entire week since you last posted? Because in blogville time is very much equivalent to dog-years, which really means a week feels more like a month, and therefore you must find a way to write SOMETHING. But sadly, it’s too late for that. You’ve already tortured yourself, coming up with hundreds of epic-blog-post-failure-ideas, and that’s just driven you right into a mean case of Writer’s Block.
Of course with all of this is going on, you can’t possibly get any sleep because you’re way too busy obsessing about how you don’t have any material to write about, much less funny material, and you’re all hopped on sugar from that damned ice cream. So, you attempt to distract yourself by watching excessive amounts of television. However the only thing on that’s TV at 3am are those oddly fascinating infomercials.
And speaking of infomercials, you happen to catch an advertisement for a product called ‘Depilsilk’ which is some kind of new and improved body-hair-removal-treatment. And even though that commercial is totally-super-gross to watch, you just can’t look away, because it’s made you painfully aware of how being from Jewish/Italian descent really just means you are a hair beast. And that’s exactly when you forget all about your writer’s block, because now you’re totally fixated on your own facial hair, specifically your sideburns. And you’re left wondering when the hell you even grew these sideburns, right before you become panic-stricken about removing them. Out of sheer curiosity you actually consider buying said product merely to see if it will live up to it’s promises because holy shit, dude, you have sideburns. AND. If you called within the next ten-minutes it comes with a Free Satin Robe, and a One-Of-A-Kind-Special-Hair-Wrap-Towel-Thingy, which would be a very refreshing ‘Outfit’ to change into, because you really need to get out of your ice cream stained pajamas and imaginary cloak of shame. It’s enough already.
But just when you’re ready to pick up the phone to place your order, yet another infomercial comes on the television called ‘Meaningful Beauty’, featuring Cindy Crawford. As she’s washing her perfectly sculpted face with another product designed to completely halt the aging process when you notice SHE also has sideburns, much like yours, and that makes you feel ever-so-vindicated, because she’s a Super Model for Christ sakes, and if she’s walking around comfortable and confident with sideburns, then you really have nothing to worry about. Which means now you can STOP obsessing about your facial hair situation, and go right back to obsessing over how you have nothing to write about. And then you grab another bowl of ice cream.
In a last ditch attempt, desperate to end to your misery, you breakdown and finally place an order for those ever-so-intriguing ‘Pajama Jeans’ and not just because the infomercial made them look so enticing, but because it’s apparent you still have nothing to write about which means you’re going to continue wearing pajamas. But eventually you’re going to need to leave your house if only to buy some Bacon, and Cheese, and Chocolate, and Vodka, because the next step in this downward spiral should obviously be spent in a state of drunken congestive heart failure, and clearly, ice cream isn’t cutting it. And you should at least look AS IF you are properly dressed for mingling with the general public.
Has THAT ever happened to you?
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