I wish I could say I had an obnoxiously amazing excuse not to post lately. Like, I went on a vacation around the world, or my husband FINALLY decided to stalk me too. We’ve both been caught up staring into each others bespectacled eyes and sniffing each other, and couldn’t get anything done. The fanfiction that
has been could be written on the subject has already could fill three notebooks!
Naw, it ain’t like that. I just couldn’t think. I had ideas. Plenty of ideas! I just couldn’t put my ideas into words. I was beginning to think my brain had rotted. Maybe a portion of it did. The part that is used for math. You know, the part that doesn’t work anymore. No one would notice anyway. It’s not like I was a math wizard saving the world with my revolutionary math equations. Damnit. That sounds cool.
It’s not like I care. I don’t.
Anyway, if I was gonna be any kind of wizard I’d rather have the power to make all cats love me, and make my husband obsessed with me. I have small dreams, really.
I was actually starting to get desperate. I almost posted some of my husband fanfiction just to get something on this wasteland of a blog. Take a gander at this…
“He was so overcome by her choice ass Victoria Secret supermodel hair and hairless mustache and beard areas that he bought her a fluffy cat. She named it Cookies and would pet that fluffy cat while her masculine husband’s muscles rippled as he put together bookshelves for the many, many books he purchased for her everyday”.
The. Damn. End.
I have others, but that one is my favorite. My hair is lit, and I’m missing facial hair. I know, I missed my calling as a fanfiction writer, but I figured everyone would eventually get tired of hearing about my husband, and fairly certain my husband would kill me or possibly run away from home. So, I thought not.
I’ve sat here for weeks trying to force words with awkward and sometimes abysmal results. I even read other blogs with some salty results. My daughter caught me one afternoon reading one witty, and cleverly crafted blog post. I was ranting how it, “wasn’t shit” and “that bitch probably had a pancake ass”. My daughter asked why I was screaming and crying while looking at the computer? I told her to mind her own damn business and leave me alone to die. She did.
I’m not sure how other people combat writer’s block, or if I can actually claim writer’s block since I ain’t shit. Maybe I’ll just post all of my husband fanfiction from now on when I can’t think of anything to post because I can’t promise this won’t happen again.
Things are gonna get really weird in here, guys. Prepare your goggles and OSHA approved hazmat suits to prevent that second hand embarrassment.