Many of us have had that dream: We stroll into class without a care in the world, ready to sit through another boring lecture and maybe catch a nap, and we suddenly realize that this is the day with the giant exam. Everyone is sitting there, fresh from studying, their number 2 pencils sharp and ready to write the mother of all essays. Everyone except you.
I just strolled into The Nudge Wink Report lecture hall here on the WordPress campus, idly wondering which of my esteemed colleagues would be amusing me today with some clever writing. Alas, there was no new post, despite it being 8 AM on Saturday morning. Well, you know these creative types, they might not hit “publish” until 9 or even 10. No big deal, I’ll check back later. Just out of curiosity, though, I bopped over to look at the lineup to see whose day this was.
1 Point Perspective?! Me?! Already?!! I see my classmates out of the corner of my eye, glancing up to see the look of pure horror on my face. They know I’ve screwed up; that I have jack-squat prepared. My mind is as blank as the blue book I forgot to bring. The nice thing about dreams is that you usually wake up at about this point. You can rest easy knowing you haven’t had an exam in decades, and that it was only a dream. I resisted the urge to try pinching myself – this is clearly no dream.
I started scavenging through crappy drafts to see if anything was worth cultivating or 3/4’s done. I quickly realized that those drafts were sitting there getting dusty for good reason – to wit; they sucked. I would have to come up with something new, but my mind was as empty and hollow as Kim and Kanye’s upcoming wedding vows (I tease of course, we all know those two wacky kids are deeply in love, and their union will stay strong long after the mountains have crumbled into the sea, or at least until sweeps week).
I pondered the always popular blog topic of writer’s block, and decided that there’s a difference between trying to write and forgetting to. The polar vortex was a pretty good topic once, but it’s gone now. There’s no reason to beat that dead, frozen horse. Besides, dead horses are often tragic and once thawed, they stink to high heaven. Finding humor in dead horses is too much of a challenge on such short notice. Seasonal allergies are prevalent. Those little spores are already driving people mad and I’m certain that just about everyone has already written a great post about how much it sucks to have itchy eyes and a faucet for a nose. Jumping on the snot-pollen bandwagon this late in the game would make me look like more of a plagiarist than usual.
I need to get ahead of the curve for once in my miserable blog life, and so, on the lovely spring morning of May 24th, I’ve decided to write about how oppressive and awful the summer weather is. Granted, most of my readers and I will not be dealing with high temperatures and smothering humidity for another month or two. That being said, once the blast furnace of July starts baking us in our shells, a few of you will recall who whined about it first.
How about this weather, huh? Hot enough for you? It’s so incredibly hot and muggy that my swamp-ass has swamp-ass. I’ve decided that until fall comes, I’m only going to wear sweat-colored clothes. Speaking of fashion, why doesn’t some clever designer make prints which celebrate the prominent scallops of perspiration-darkened material under my arms?
With blistering temperatures like these, we can look forward to news clips of people actually frying eggs on the sidewalk. I’m more of a non-stick pan devotee myself, though the idea of doing the dishes with a garden hose instead of a sponge does have a certain appeal. Novel clean up or not, I prefer my eggs without grass clippings and broken glass.
This heat wave talk is sapping my energy like a bad window air conditioner. This kind of weather is just unbearable. I’m either going to make friends with someone who owns a pool or consider having a vodka and tonic for breakfast.
You heard it here first folks, this summer weather we’ve been looking forward to for all of those hideous winter months is the latest thing to bitch about. Feel free to add your two cents, I’m moving on to start ranting about raking leaves and making turkey dinners for the in-laws.