I’ve been a slacker for several weeks now. Of course, I blame the holidays, but I’ve narrowed down a list of 5 things in particular that kept me from a proper writing schedule:
- Christmas lights. These sap-ridden hellions will turn you into a human lint roller, cripple your hands and drive you mad. My job is to take down the tree lights, and every year it’s like wrestling an electrical green cobra. I always make sure the kids are in school so they remain blissfully unaware of my raging hatred for them. This year I was choking the tree to get the lights off when it fell on top of me, in what would be the most comical non-filmed Hollywood blockbuster moment. I suppose I deserved it, but now I reek like a cabby pine freshener with bits of candy cane and glitter stuck to me.
- Trump. This might seem like a stretch, but I’m exhausted by all the holiday political talk. If he really wants to make America great again, he’d deport himself to a remote island and stop making America — a nation built on the strength of immigrants — look like ass clowns to the rest of the world. I mean, he made an awesome Halloween costume and even made SNL comical again, but when will this man’s ego run out of steam? He’s like Veruca Salt in Willie Wonka demanding an Oompa Loompa. It’s time for him to go down the garbage chute with all the other entitled children.
- Travel. The effort it takes to see both sides of our families is a path riddled with delays and shin damage from no legroom and the seat reclining in front of me. I tried editing only to be distracted by my tray-table lap dance, which sounds sexy but really just involves staring at a man’s thinning hair follicles shimmy in frustration. Reclining fully is called first class, dude. You gotta pay for iiiiiitttt……
- No sleep. For the last two weeks I’ve either woken up hung-over, due to family obligations to party like it was 1999 when I was a 20-something rock star, or not knowing where I was, due to sleeping in a twin bed built for a 10-year-old.
- Star Wars: The Force Awakens. That’s right. We nerds have been busy seeing this movie enough times to pass as clones. My daughter, in particular, took advantage of my glowing approval that there’s finally an ass-kicking hero who isn’t a boy or a man. But I’m starting to have my limits. We saw it opening night in a crappy theater, then she proceeded to see it the next day, in a theater with stadium seats, in a theater with reclining seats, in 3-D, in 3-D and reclining seats, in IMAX, in IMAX where apparently food and beverages are served, etc. I love Rey. She loves Rey. We all agree, Star Wars is great again without Daddy Lucas crashing the party, but I’m broke and I need to get back to my own story before I start dreaming about Harrison Ford, or more likely, Chewy. …Oh, Chewy, you’re the ultimate snuggie.
Hope everyone is recovering nicely and off to a good start! Thanks for making 2015 a rewarding year in blogging.