DAMN CLOCK

(I hate that little friggin clock in the bottom right corner of my computer screen. It is just taunting me tonight as I try to write. I’m just having a hard time of it this week. And the clock says its 9:00 already. I usually start a rough outline of my weekly blog during the early part of the week. It typically wanders a bit far from those Monday/Tuesday first ideas but eventually I happen upon some point to run with when I seriously sit down to compose things later in the week. Once I lock in on a theme and get the opening paragraph done, the rest falls together pretty fast. I next read it through a few times to tighten it up and then I just about always complain to myself that it is not funny enough but will have to do. A little copy and paste and blamo… another week’s blog is up and posted for all the world to ignore except for my hundred or so dedicated readers who obviously have either questionable taste, a lot of pity on me, too much time on their hands or obvious severe psychological personal issues of a very private nature.)

(Arggg… that damn clock! All this talk about how I write a blog… I have to actually write the damn thing)

(This week has been different. Nothing… nada… no ideas. For five years I have managed to compose and post a somewhat fresh and remotely creative new blog every week. It is now Thursday night and the cupboard is bare and look at that clock… its almost 10:00)

(Tick tick tick…. Hmmm I wonder if anything interesting is happening on Facebook… farm invite, fish invite, mafia invite, café invite, chat invite… tick tick tick…. Damn it… back to the blog. Wait, maybe checking out the ball scores will inspire me)

(I could start this week’s with a joke. Lets see…) In an attempt to help my poor memory I purchased some Ginkgo Biloba but when I went to take my vitamins this morning I forgot where I put the bottle. (Ok, maybe that is why I usually do not start with a joke. Jeez, look at that little clock, its almost 11:00 and all I have is a blank screen. OK, Dan, think of an anecdote…)

I have always enjoyed writing but sometimes it has gotten me in trouble. Back in a High School Creative Writing class I had an assignment to make four greeting cards. One of mine was a belated birthday card from one twin to another. The teacher grimaced at that one but when she saw the one that on the front flap had happy musical notes and the words “lets all sing, cha cha cha… lets all dance, cha cha cha, brace yourself cha cha cha” and on the inside read “your mothers dead, cha cha cha” above a picture of a casket, she immediately gave me a ‘D’.

I won a ribbon at the Dade County Youth Fair, for my short story ‘The Ass Of Wagga’ which in reality was just a personal exercise to amuse myself with seeing how many times I could use the word ‘ass’ without getting in trouble. Apparently the answer was a lot. I ended up getting an F for a drama class project when a substitute teacher sat in for a class and did not get the joke when my buddy Mike and I wrote the most god-awful Vogon-esque poetry and proceeded to read it aloud as seriously and dramatically as William Shatner performing Mr. Tambourine Man.

I again caught some heat in college for my final Advertising Department semester long project when I included a somewhat blasphemous ad storyboard for my proposed Phillip Morris Potato Chip, Philmores, that included a Moses Ten Commandments parody. My created product character Mr. Philmore’ donning clothes akin to early Egyptian slave, walks around a mountain top carrying what at first looks like two large tablets but turns out to be two big huge bags of potato chips. He looks down at his people amassed below him but discovers they have forsaken him, not by building idols but by eating other greasy, messy snack foods with Caligula type gusto. With a crack of lightning behind him, Mr. Philmore angrily crashes the bags down onto a rock, they explode and shower the now repenting ‘oooing’ and ‘ahhhhing’ masses below with tasty non greasy Philmore Potato Chips.

(Damn, that clock says its almost 1:00 AM. I have to work tomorrow… damn… I have not even started this thing…. Hmmm…wait a sec, maybe I can pass this rambling crap off as an actual concept piece… yeah …like I meant to do this all along. All I need to do is wrap it up by saying something like “ I wonder if everyone would still keep reading my blog if they knew how twisted my brain works? Nah, I better not share that”)

High School Junior Dan Hams It Up At The Youth Fair With A Copy Of 'The Ass Of Wagga'

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About mrdvmp

Mr DVMP spends his days breathing, eating and sleeping.
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3 Responses to DAMN CLOCK

  1. Ron Kreml says:

    If it wasn’t for rubber band wars the week was as shallow as fog on a Maine window in April. But this is addressed in the knowledge that other weeks are are are much foggier.

  2. T J Hooker says:

    ROFL! Moses and the chips…hee-hee!
    “If not there, then where…why if there were not there?”
    I would start this blog at “I have always enjoyed writing…” because I enjoy reading your writing, and god knows you guys have enough clocks!
    Oh, BTW, Congratulations on your amputee!

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