The dog’s had a successful day what with the block of the cheese, the two tomatoes, and the half-bowl of rice bubbles siphoned up around the shards of broken bowl from when he knocked said bowl off the table.
Unlike my own day which, despite hours with a rhyming dictionary, a thesaurus, a dictionary, a whiteboard, a packet of textas, and some A2 paper conveniently packaged in a flip chart type arrangement, has resulted in just one funny sentence. And I think funny is a generous descriptor. Mildly amusing. Witty perhaps. But funny? Anyway, that sentence takes my total amount of funnies up to about three minutes. I need twenty. Minutes. In only another four weeks.
I am out of my depth, unable to breathe, because I’ve got a mouth full of whatever it is of which I bit too much off of. I hope Pavlov’s Cat looked away before she read that sentence. The shock of it would of killed her.
The Audreys’ version of Don’t Change is gorgeous. In my opinion. Makes me love Michael Hutchence all over again. Don’t act all surprised and ‘but you seem so sophisticated, how could you have liked the band that everyone else liked’. I already told you my music tastes were pretty standard. And anyway, I only like their early stuff. You know, before they sold out.
Youngest Boy just came out to get a band aid and saw the plums. ‘Why did you melt them?’ ‘Because they were about to go rotten, so I put them in the oven with sugar on them, and you can have them with ice cream tomorrow’.
Stares wide-eyed from me back to the melted plums.
‘Good job, Mum, now that’s just what a Mum would do’.
What the fuck does that mean?
You might have to take that one in the spirit that it was meant.
That you’re a Good Mum.
Take it where you can get it, I say.
Yes, I think he meant you saved them.
I did not die of shock from that sentence what is about what you have bitten off too much of. I am made of sterner stuff than that. Sometimes one must call them as one sees them.
Another seventeen minutes, eh?
The Zoo is funny.
So is your run-in in the park with the woman with the dog, a few posts back. I mean it may not have been at the time but I bet it is now. Or could be.
Yes, I think he meant you saved them.
I did not die of shock from that sentence what is about what you have bitten off too much of. I am made of sterner stuff than that. Sometimes one must call them as one sees them.
Another seventeen minutes, eh?
The Zoo is funny.
So is your run-in in the park with the woman with the dog, a few posts back. I mean it may not have been at the time but I bet it is now. Or could be.
I love that version of Don’t Change too.
Good luck with the other 17 minutes. Perhaps you need another method of work? Like say lying undisturbed in bed with a cup of tea? or having a shower? I use both these to think of choreography (then I try it out later with the feet) but water restrictions has put a bit of a dent in the latter.
You’ll get there … you’re probably blocked because you’re panicking. Maybe you need a proper time out (even an hour or so) and then to come back to it with some degree of calm. I know panic blocks me when I’m trying to think/perform. You’ll be ace. It will all be good. Maybe what you need is to chat with someone who’s seen you perform, someone you trust to be honest, and have them give you a pep talk about how good you were in the past and how you wouldn’t have got the gig or gone for it if you couldn’t do it.
Oh, and what Shula said.
Thanks all of youse. I’m feeling slightly less freaked today. And, yes, these water restrictions are definitely having a negative impact on creative processes. I read somewhere where either Hemingway or Gabriel Garcia Marquez used to have enormously long showers when they were in the middle of something. I’m ashamed now to say that I did too. Not that I’m comparing myself to Hemingway. Obviously.
Also, Ariel, have you been talking to the mister? That is more or less word for word what he said. I’m afraid I was quite ungracious in my reply.
I hope Pavlov’s Cat looked away before she read that sentence. The shock of it would of killed her.
Pav’s OK, but if I see that “would of” again, I’m slappin’ ya. I’m having the devil of a time trying to get my husband and semiliterate kiwi relatives out of the habit.
It was the best joke I wrote all day! Don’t slap me. Please?
I think everything you say is sort of pretty funny.
And this mum would of dug out the black hairy plums from the bottom of the bowl when the fruit flies let me know they were there.
That’s being a good mum too.
The mister must be very wise …
Nah, I just empathise with your predicament and was thinking about what works for me when I’m in that space.