I almost didn't write anything. I've been contemplating writing something every night for many nights. Then I log in, then I log out. Some weird thing about thinking I have nothing to say. Which may, indeed, be true. But it may not be. I may find I have something to say if I just keep punching. And, if only for my darling friend Graham Clark, (you may remember his name from an earlier post's title...), who has just begun to read my blog, and wants to know how often I write...I was tempted to say never, but it seems like I should try for at least once a week. Maybe more. Maybe if I write more, I'll have more to say. That's usually how it works. Keeps the muscles limber. The writing muscles. As opposed to other muscles, which do not get limber from writing, but rather stiff from sitting or sore from typing. But we all have our crosses to bear. (Ah, me.)

Banana Republic has turned out to be awfully pleasant. I actually enjoy my work day. I know that's a good thing, but it's very strange. Especially in light of the fact that the last go round with them, 2001, was such misery. I am different now, but they are, too. Nobody bothers me, which I like. That's the thing about joe jobs that generally gets me down. People bothering me. I like to know what my job is, then do it. If you let me do that, then I am a hardworking little drone. I spent a lot of time singing along to the Banana CD today, which ought to say something about my enjoyment level. It also says something about knowing all the words due to listening to the same CD over and over and over and over and over and over and over all day every day. For a month at a time. A premade Gap, Inc. CD. You will hear the very same CD playing right now in any Banana Republic in the world. Weird.

It does sort of sicken me to be an active part of the consumerist machine, a cog, if you will. It disturbs me and makes me need to stop listening to the part of my brain devoted to my values for several hours each day. On the other hand, sometimes in the course of my day I make people very happy, so that's nice. I do look forward, though, to the time when I can be part of something that makes a difference in the world. I wonder sometimes if comedy does that. I mean, I know that making people laugh is really important. It's so healthy for people to laugh, especially at themselves, so hopefully that's where my work can take people. But does my work have a social conscience? I'd like it to, or, at the very least, to be able to use it to further causes in which I believe.

Hm. I like the idea of my comedy making people laugh at themselves. I wonder how I can work a joke about vagina fat into socially conscious material. Vagina fat is the new funniest thing I have come up with. I mean, I didn't invent vagina fat, for crying out loud, but I do have it, and I think the phrase is hysterical. It sure produces hysterical laughter when you bring it up at a dinner table. I'm having t-shirts made. On the back they say "ask me about my...", and on the front they say, "...vagina fat", and there's an arrow pointing towards...drum roll...my vagina!! My mother will hate them, but I will laugh my ass off all day every day when I wear it. Plus, I'm going to put it on a tshirt that looks good on me. That way I'll wear it. Maybe just a shirt. Not a tshirt per se. (I love using "per se". Why? I sound like I have thought through what I am saying, or something. Plus, I don't think I, or anyone for that matter, ever use it quite right.)

Okay, Graham, this one's for you. Kiss kiss.

I'm happy.



Anonymous said...

the term vagina fat is amusing... But not as amusing as meatwich (= vagina) is.

murray said...

What about "meat curtains"?
I always enjoyed that one.