Have you ever been so involved with a particular project it consumes every moment of your life – including your dreams? And that very same project takes over so much that you don’t have time to shower, or brush your teeth, or change your pajamas, or even enjoy the little things you love, such as: Bacon, and Cheese, and Chocolate, and Vodka, because you’ve spent the past eight weeks, in a row, holed up in a tiny corner of your house working on a novel that’s probably not going to be close to finished until 2014 – if you’re lucky?
And when you suddenly realize ‘ohmyzod has it really been two whole weeks’ since you last wrote a blog post, you totally start to freak out, because in blogville time is very much equivalent to dog-years, which really means it’s been more like a month. And then you begin to feel all kinds of enormous pressure to provide glorious tales with perfectly captioned photos, for your lovely readers, who you miss Sofa King much, except that absolutely nothing amusing, funny, or remotely entertaining, has happened over the past several weeks, because you’ve been holed up in a tiny corner of your house working on a novel that’s probably not going to be close to finished until 2017 – if you keep trying to write blog posts.
Except that you really want to write a decent blog post to make up for your extended absence, but you have no ideas, 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, racking your brain for ideas, and wandering around aimlessly, because you’re fairly positive this post is definitely going to fall short of your own unrealistic expectations and then everyone will know you’re really NOT all that funny.
So you dig as deeply as possible into the recesses of your brain to come up with epic-failure-ideas like how you tripped over your own pajama pants, while walking up the stairs, carrying a bowl of ice cream and a brownie. Or how the last time you shaved your legs there was snow on the ground. Or how driving your son to the gym three times a week is really putting a damper on your schedule.
Or…how your father played a prank on you when he hid an extremely loud clock inside of your bedroom, because he knows just how much the incessant ticktock sound drives you bat.shit.crazy.stone.cold.fuck.nuts. And after searching random places, high and low, you finally find the clock, hiding underneath a seat cushion, and you can’t help but laugh uncontrollably, before throwing it away in the garbage can. The garbage can that’s located all the way out in the garage. And then you think because the clock is far, far, away, and down two flights of stairs, and in the trash, you’ll never have to hear that dreaded noise ever again. But you would be wrong. Because two nights later, as you climb into bed, desperate for sleep, all you will hear is TICK-TOCK TICK-TOCK TICK-TOCK, over, and over, and over, again, but you have no idea where it’s coming from, and holy hell someone please make it stop. Of course that forces you peel back the cozy-comfy blankets and embark upon a Scavenger Hunt at 4am, until you find the source of the noise hiding under one of the unfolded sweaters inside of your closet. And then you realize your father is a mastermind who will continue to find ways to torture you, so maybe you need a new plan to get rid of that god-forsaken clock forever. Only you couldn’t figure out a way to tell that story as quite as well as you’d like to. So you decide NOT to write about it.
And then you get back into bed, and the fetal position, and simply concede to defeat.
But then you think about how all of the other bloggers have been steadily entertaining you, over the past six years, and you really owe them at least one good story, for fucks sakes. So you get back out of bed, eat another brownie, and a bowl of ice cream, and make a pot of coffee, and pound away on the keyboard of your computer in hopes of coming up with an idea.
Then you momentarily consider writing about how much you loathe Dr. Oz. because he may or may nor be The Devil. And you really think you’re onto a great idea for a blog post. That is, until you remember how many people believe he’s the Second Coming, even though most of his medical advice is half-assed, especially when he recommends things like taking licorice root to boost loss of belly fat, when there is no scientific evidence to back that claim, and while he warned that you that you shouldn’t use it if you have high blood pressure, he made no mention of other cautions, such as lowered potassium, arhythmias and certain drug interactions. So even if his credentials include chief of cardiology at Columbia Presbyterian in NYC, that really doesn’t matter, because his show has evolved into a different fad diet each week, and it’s enough already. And speaking of diets and losing weight, after being forced to watch an episode of his show while in the waiting area of your own doctors office, you notice how Dr. Oz is beginning to look a lot like Skeletor because he probably suffers from Manorexia and his pointy little bird face is totally-super-creepy and all you can think is eat a fucking sandwich, man. But you don’t want to offend any of his millions of loyal fans, because if you tried to argue with them, or defend your opinion, that would take up way too much of your precious time, and that might cause you to be holed up in that tiny corner of your house working on your novel until 2020. So, you decide NOT to write about that either. And quite frankly any type of conflict and/or confrontation immediately gives you a severe case of diarrhea.
Then, for a minute, you contemplate writing about why you’re forever banned from watching the Investigation Discovery channel, because after a seventeen-hour marathon, and left home alone, you’re absolutely positive you’re going to be raped and murdered, and die a horrible death, every time you hear the wind howling outside, or the heat clicking off and on. Because unlike, Law & Order, or Dexter, or Breaking Bad, the stories on IDTV are Real Life Crimes yo – and you can’t convince yourself what you just watched was fake. Armed with scissors and a flashlight, your heart races, and your palms begin sweating, but then you realize having sweaty palms, means you won’t be able to grip those scissors properly when trying to fight off an intruder, in fact, they might even end up being used against you, and no one would be able to identify your mutilated remains. And then you wish you could get up and turn on every light in the house, grab a bowl of ice cream, and a brownie, because that might make you feel better. But you can’t, because you’re totally paralyzed with crippling fear, so you manage to reach for your iPhone, and call one of your friends, at 3am, and make them stay awake, and on the phone with you, until the sun comes up. But then everyone who reads this will know for sure that you’re completely crazy, and regress to the age of five when frightened, and refuse to take any of your phone calls. So you decide NOT to write about it.
In a last ditch effort, you think about throwing out useless and meaningless poll questions like:
1. Do you call it a Grocery Store or a Supermarket?
2. Do you use a Cart or a Bugy?
3. Do you buy Soda or Pop?
4. Do you wear Tennis Shoes or Sneakers?
But you recognize that’s just incredibly lame and a waste of everyone’s time. So, you decide NOT to write a blog post about that either.
And then you realize if you keep writing this blog post, you’re probably not going to finish that novel until sometime after 2025. And you should probably walk away from the computer already, because you really need to take a shower, and brush your teeth, and change your pajamas, and grab some Bacon, and Cheese, and Chocolate, and Vodka, because you’ve already had way too much ice cream and brownies, and you still haven’t come up with any thing decent to blog about.
So. Yeah.
Has THAT ever happened to you?
No?
Me either.
Yep! Totally happened to me, too. Well, my all consuming project is currently a baby but I still am having trouble finding inspiration for blog posts. Who really wants to hear about poop, pee, strollercize and colic screaming? Constantly? Although a child telling me I’m a fake mom has got my juices flowing. 🙂
For the record…
Grocery Store or just store (if another store is necessary I name it like Home Depot)
I did use cart but now in the South I have switched to Buggy to fit in with the locals.
Pop – I refuse to give in to the Southern Coke. How can every pop be called a coke?
I actually say tenny shoes.
Got to run. The child has rolled/semi crawled her way across the room and is now screaming because her toys are on the other side of the room all in the time it took to read your post and comment. Sigh. I might be a regular blogger again in 2022 although then I will be busy reading your book.
“Me either.” I am SO glad of that! “Tick-Tock…” Your Daddy is devious, a man after my own heart. And I’m sure you’ll be done your novel by, say , 2030??
Oh, Junebug! I love ya. BUNCHES.
And if it makes you feel any better, I will NEVER grow tired of any stories about Phi. I want to hear about: poop, pee, strollercize and colic screaming! BRING IT.
xoxo
I swear on all things holy – if that clock comes back into my bedroom again, I will lose my friggen mind!
I’m not involved in any mind numbing projects and I still don’t have time to write blogs posts 😛
Sorry to hear that!
you are seriously funny. glad you didn’t write about the things you didn’t want to write about. your father is just too funny. gotta love him! tick tock tick tock.
Yes. It has happened to me – although I will tell you – I totally noticed that you haven’t written something for like a long time and was wondering what was up. I love those killing shows. Real or fiction. Although, when we got off the turn pike the other day at this tiny town – it was close to midnight and only one toll booth was open – with ONE little girl operating it. As we pulled away, I looked at my husband and said, “I would so have a shotgun in there pointed at cars … just in case.” and… he said, “I was thinking the same thing.”
Anywho – Soda, Shopping carts, Grocery Store, and sneakers. What is wrong with people? Tennis shoes are for playing tennis. Pop is something you gave to your arch nemesis when you were in the 6th grade…
Well I aim to please, Valerie! xoxo
And seriously, I might have to injure mt father if he puts that friggen clock back in my bedroom.
Awwwww…. well I’m glad someone noticed I hadn’t written in a long time.
I used to love the killing shows, really. But I totally traumatized myself with that 17 hour marathon. I need rainbows and care bears for a few months to get those images out of my mind.
That girl working the toll booth is braver than I’ll ever be.
My answers: Grocery Store, Cart, Soda & Sneakers.
TEAM EAST COAST!
I love this, Mereb. It reminds me of our old blogging days. Vintage, hilarious, lovely Meleah.
Awwww! Thank you, Steph.
Man, I really miss our “original” blogging days.
Grocery, Buggy, Coke (for all flavors/brands, btw – I’m from SC), Sneakers.
Also, I heart you. And Dr Oz is scary but his daughter on The Chew is worse – way worse. And gives even worse advice.
You are the QUEEN of writing!! HA HA HA! Your dad KILLS me. TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
🙂 I love you and I love this blog post. I fully support a Dr. Oz rant. The man is a lunatic and think his “medical advice” is harmful to women. I’ll just leave it at that. It’s awesome that you are so engrossed in your novel! Keep writing!
”
he hid an extremely loud clock inside of your bedroom, because he knows just how much the incessant ticktock sound drives you bat.shit.crazy.stone.cold.fuck.nuts. ”
Okay, is that a ‘Libra thing’ or what, because I CAN’T stand the sound of ticktock clock too!!!! OMG…it’s makes me TOTALLY insane! I have very sensitive ears, especially when it comes to higher pitched TINNY sounds (like a ticktock clock). However, it’s funny because lower pitched sounds don’t bother me at all.
“and you still haven’t come up with any thing decent to blog about.”
Oh, but you DID!!!! Isn’t if funny how when we sometimes just sit down and write what’s on our mind, we end up coming up with a GREAT post?
Like this one!
And yes, this has happened to me too. And like you, I will usually walk away from my computer and then something will suddenly inspire me to write about something.
FAB post, my Libra friend!
X
P.S. great to hear about your novel. You GO, girl!
For the record, the Indian versions are:
1. Do you call it a Grocery Store or a Supermarket? Supermarket (our grocery stores are ones that mostly sell only veggies and other food stuff but nothing else)
2. Do you use a Cart or a Bugy? Golf cart? then yes, cart
3. Do you buy Soda or Pop? Neither – it’s all general known as cold drinks and/or cola. Soda is the colourless, tastless, carbonated liquid that people here drink with a pinch of salt. Good for making your burp. Adding it with squeezed out fresh lime juice and syrup gives you lime soda!
4. Do you wear Tennis Shoes or Sneakers? Shoes but some brands have started calling it sneakers.
You are too funny, Meleah. While it has happened to me that I search and search to find a topic to blog about and never hit upon a decent idea as evident by the quality of my blog on most days, I never have managed to write a hysterical one after claiming to be blog blocked as you seemingly can do (and did for that matter)
I, am also, like you in the fact that I tend to veer away from topics that I know the masses are Nutso in favor of such as Dr. Oz (wtf kind of name is that anyway, as I live in KS, I conjure up a little fat wizard type not a Skeltor type in my minds eye) Most days I think of would have been far better served to start a blog under some totally random, anonymous name but I am not clever enough to have thought of one. If I would have though, I might of named the blog, Oprah is a Narcissist. (as my neighbor actually has a blog that is about her love of Oprah, even that would have gotten me in trouble.) See what I mean, just making a bad comment about her will have the haters going bat shit crazy.
One last thing before I shut the hell up…how is it that you can eat ice cream and brownies and look all thin and great when I eat shitty egg whites and lettuce 90 percent of the time and probably will gain a pound while typing this.
Minus the whole “writing a novel” thing, yes.
Oh please write about all those things Meleah. I would so enjoy reading about them 😀
I think I would take a hammer to that clock if it were me, then hide the remains in my dad’s clothes 🙂
Ever happened to me? All the sofaking time.
Now this is falling back to old school Meleah. I keep saying, you could write a whole blog about flossing and make it knee slapping, I can’t breath, incontinent hilarious. We were getting worried about you. Thought something foul might have happened or you were kidnapped by aliens. If you had stayed away any longer, we were going to have to start making up stories about Meleah (she shaved her head and joined a convent of nuns). Keep writing. Don’t make me come up with more colorful stories.
And just to answer your lame survey: grocery store, shopping cart, soda pop, and running shoes.
I do love your dad’s twisted sense of humor, but you gave up too easily. You need to fight fire with fire. What gets under his skin? There are lots of evil toys out there to mess with people’s head. http://www.thinkgeek.com/gadgets/electronic/8c52/
I heart you too.
And I’m afraid to see anything with his daughter!
I turn into Capitan Hook when I hear that sound!!
And thank you, Sarah.
Finally someone else willing to admit Dr Oz is annoying!
Thank you Ron.
Seriously, there is NOTHING more horrible than the sound of tick-tock-tick-tock.
It’s WORSE than nails on a chalkboard.
🙂
Thanks for playing, Roshan!
Oh Cheryl don’t EVEN get me started on Oprah.
Mostly because she’s probably listening, like Santa, or G-d.
And I am super glad you enjoyed this post.
PS: I can only eat those things and not gain weight because I have Crohn’s Disease.
Anything that goes IN my stomach comes right OUT within 45 minutes. Hooray for Leaky Ass Syndrome.
Thanks, Abby.
It’s good to know I’m not alone.
Agg,
I am definitely going to have to seek revenge upon my father some how, some day.
This blog post was fun to write.
You’re the 2nd person to call it “Vintage” Meleah.
I guess that’s a good thing.
No need to worry about me, just knee deep in writing a novel.
If I was kidnapped by aliens I would have IMMEDIATELY blogged about. And probably straight from the UFO.
Thanks for reading AND being patient with me as I will probably be slow to post all year.
🙂
I guess, you had mentioned that before. I must say, while it doesn’t sound pleasant, I sure would love to eat a brownie now and then.
The ending of this really cracked me up! Thanks for the larf, Meleah!
Brownies are amazeballs.
You SHOULD have one every once in a while!
You’re very welcome, Marty.
You are hilarious, Meleah, I love it!
Thanks, Ziva.
Glad I was able to make you laugh.
Yes. These things happen to me all the time, sadly.
I have a few things to say:
1} There is always time for Vodka (just sayin’)
2) I love the clock story — it reminded me of Phoebe trying to turn off the errant fire alarm on Friends. And yes, comparing you to Friends is HIGH praise.
3) My new cable plan removed ID from my queue and that is probably a good thing.
To your questions:
1. Do you call it a Grocery Store or a Supermarket?
Grocery Store
2. Do you use a Cart or a Bugy?
Cart
3. Do you buy Soda or Pop?
Soda
4. Do you wear Tennis Shoes or Sneakers?
Tennis Shoes
Glad your’e back because I miss you when your gone. But I really want you to finish this book so your publisher will send you on a book tour to Austin and I will be the first in line. Even if I have to go gangsta for my Jersey girl.
🙂
Traci
Awwwww! Traci!!
“Even if I have to go gangsta for my Jersey girl.”
Ahahahahhahah
xoxoxo
When that happens, I write about politics.
Except for like the last month straight, no, that’s never happened to me. 🙂
Answers: grocery store, cart, soda, tennis shoes.
Even though you seem to have little faith in its contents, this post had me cracking up.
Dr. Oz has been dead to me since the episode where he basically said cheese causes cancer. Don’t worry, when all his millions of fans come screaming for your head, I’ll stand with you. We’ll be like Thelma and Louise, except I won’t drive us off a cliff. And don’t feel bad, this post is hysterical. My last post was a commercial and a reference to Mike’s cat. I suck. I can’t even say it’s because I’m busy working on a novel or because I’m being driven crazy by a clock. Sigh.
I don’t get involved!
Yay! Thanks, Mike!
I guess I should count my blessings, huh?
And THANK YOU Nicky!
It’s sofa king nice to know YOU will next to me, when those crazed Dr Oz fans come to kill me.
Gosh, I have missed our posts!!!! Laughing all through this one and I have thought Dr. Oz was looking mighty yucky too. I swear him and Bethenny Frankel need one of my Lucy Burgers! You keep working and that novel will be finished, you might not have any teeth but you will have a novel!!
Thank you so much, Lucy!
And maybe when I’m done with this Novel I’ll get on that plane to come visit you!
xoxox
Yay! It’s great to have you back! Thanks for giving us a little snippit of all the things you’re NOT writing about. Don’t we all go through that though – tons of ideas, but nothing really seems worthwhile.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I LOVE YOUR DAD. I’m quite jealous of your relationship with your family… and I agree with Agg79… “fight fire with fire”. (Then tell us all about it)
I love it when people who have nothing to write about, write such a great post. I am with you on the tick tock clock. I used to have a wind up watch, and when I would lay it stem side down on the dresser, in the silence of the night, you could hear it tick.
Grocery store or the store
Buggy
Soda
Tennis Shoes or just shoes because that is what I wear most often
But it’s always entertaining. By the way, any of those subjects above would make great blog posts. You could have gone for 3.
I’ve never seen Dr. Oz. But, I’m going to hate on him with you. Quack.
We Latina women just go to the “sto”. And we wear stilettos when we go there.
Thanks, Shadow!
My dad is always good for laughs around here!