Recently, I asked my friends to help come up with ideas for blog entries. I was looking for something to help me make it through the June Creativity Challenge. Now, in the past I’ve had help from my friend Lori who sent me some great lists for story ideas. Sadly though, I think I’ve finally worked through all of them.
When I went whining to my cousin, he offered up, “that’s the problem with blogs, you eventually run out of ideas.” No, that’s the problem with Debbie Downers who aren’t being helpful. That’s right, I called you Debbie. I’m not out of ideas, I just know there are some stories I tell that are just better (and because I’ve retold them to friends many times, they’re easy to write – otherwise, I will just anecdote you to death to limp through until June 30th – that’s where you get stories about that time I was in the puppet class and met my very own super gregarious stalker who promised to pop up in bushes and greet me with friendly hellos and other cheery messages on my way to work (you really need a stalker like mine) or that time I was at “Vampire’s Suck” (dreadful movie, but one of the guys from the Austin improv scene is in it – woo hoo!) and a young guy in the front row was having a bit of a bout of Touretts – actually improved the movie a bit. Trust me when I say that I’m queen of anecdotes.)
Fortunately, my friend and old college roommate started throwing out great suggestions left and right. The hitch is that if I wrote those stories, those funny, funny stories, I would have people who know where I live at my house trying to beat me silly. This would make Sam very sad as she seems to have grown somewhat attached to me. You see, most of you know me and the players involved, so when you hear the stories, you don’t necessarily think I’m a gigantic ass. People who don’t know me and read the story for the first time here will drop their jaws and use my story as proof that Texans fit a very particular and unkind stereotype.
How do I know this? I told one of those stories at my birthday party where I had a mix of old and new friends. I was super animated and loud, because we were at the roller rink (it’s what I do to my friends on my birthday) giggling away to a newer friend – one whom I thought would appreciate the humor of the story. Out of my mouth popped, “…Jerry and I started shouting at her, “Hey whore, you don’t have to be a whore anymore!!” That was right when the music died, right when everyone’s conversations had ended and I had about 10 people staring at me slack-jawed, giving me the stink eye while thinking, “wow, what a bitch.” Thankfully, a very awkward silence fell over the group and I got my wish and spontaneously combusted in shame. It’s an ok story if you know the people involved, if you know that we were in a dance club like we always were in college, if you know The Lords of Acid’s song “I Sit on Acid” and you know that “whore” was a term of endearment Jerry used for almost everyone. And even with all of that, it’s not a good story to tell outside of our little gang, because there’s no way I can make that funny.
So, I know my friends who read the blog will be sad to hear that there will no retellings of “Jones vs. The Mysterious Smell” or “Quickly Sobering-up Jim vs. Mrs. Guyer’s Locked Office” or any mention of “Willy Wonka’s Blueberry Girl”. I know they’re hysterical, but I can’t make them humorous to strangers, my aunt or my dearest friend’s mom (I think she still mostly respects me)– I’m not that good at writing, yet. Maybe I can work 0n “stealing the marlin from Showdown’s” or “the crazy guy in the dorm office demanding a knife to cut out the gangrene” if you’re looking for some old college stories.
In the meantime, any other suggestions?
Note to Jers: Sorry!! Those were all great ideas! And I swear, next time we’re together, we’ll grab up Jim and retell the hell out of those at a bar, a really loud bar, a bar where no one can overhear and stink eye us.
And now for a little flashback to college – WARNING: strong/vulgar language (I only pretend to only know showtunes) :
Okay, I am going to take a tiny bit of credit for the daily *anecdotal assignments*…talk about stink eye. You and your Dad perfected that in response to my cheery dinner table inquiry…*so, tell me an anecdote about your day*…oh, how annoying I know I was. But look? now you are a blog queen of amusing anecdotal stories! P.S. Please don’t write any of those amusing stories about me…I know where the dead bodies are buried.
I know somewhere there’s a post about you being completely responsible for all of these anecdotes, but for the life of me I can’t find it.
You’re safe for now! I figure I should stick to stories about relatives that have passed on, unless of course, they stuff them in a shed and legitimate news sources get a hold of them, then all bets are off.