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3:26 p.m. - 2005-01-11
A Stunning Illustration of the Disastrous Consquences When You Look for Inspiration Outisde Yourself
I have postponed writing an entry today, thinking that some brilliant flash of insight would magically occur (or that something I came across playing on Blog Explosion would trigger me), and that I would write something meaningful and profound.

As the clock struck three, I realized that inspiration was not to be mine today.

So I go to this website called "Blog Ideas". Instead of finding something moving, gripping, and action packed, I found such gems as:

Who would you want to be tied to for 24 hours?
Who is your hero?
Who do you blame for your mood today?
When was the last time you said 'I Love You'?
What should we do with stupid people?
Describe your shower curtain.
Three things on your desk that you adore.

Call me crazy, but I can't think of more than one sentence to talk about any of these so-called ideas.

Question #1: Who would you want to be tied to for 24 hours?

Answer: No one…that shit would get old in a hurry.

Question #2: Who is your hero?

Answer: Oprah.

Question #3: Who do you blame for your mood today?

Answer: Eli Lilly, because their drug Prozac is supposed to make me feel happy all the time.

Question #4: When was the last time you said "I love you?"

Answer: This morning, when Rob at City Bites told me he loved me after I paid for my $1.00 cup of coffee with a debit card.

Question #5: What should we do with stupid people?

Answer: Ship them off somewhere with no civilization and see how long it takes them to kill each other for food.

Question #6: Describe your shower curtain.

Answer: Turquoise and blue with yellow and orange fish.

Question #7: Three things on your desk that you adore.

Answer: Water, headphones, computer.

For real, am I supposed to go on for days describing how the blue and turquoise swirl together to provide a perfect foil for the yellow fish with orange shading? Am I supposed to wax rhapsodic about my stapler? Or talk about all the nasty things I couldn't do to George Clooney if I were tied to him for 24 hours?

I guess that's what I'm supposed to do. But it just seems so contrived. I don't know why, but it seems different to write off an "assigned topic" than it does to write about something that pops into your head.

Since I have illustrated in grand fashion that there ain't shit popping in my head today, other than thoughts of "I want to go home and watch the finale of The Biggest Loser," I think I will just stop typing now, before it gets any more banal.

 

 

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