What do I do?
I seriously have nothing to say.
Can you even believe it?
For fucks sake. Me, with nothing to say? I am sick, or dying. Goddess forbid. But really, can you even have “writer’s block” when you aren’t really a writer? Ha. That is funny shit. I mean, am I a writer? I don’t really write. I just kinda talk. And then, as I’m “talking” I type. And put it here. And you all read it. Soooo…is that actually considered writing? Talking to myself, and in my head…then blasting it out of my fingers, onto a screen, for all of the world to read! YES! No. That is not “writing”. It is blogging. But whatever you want to call it, I can’t do it. I am stuck. I have nothing to say, or talk about…or write. I am just kinda bored with myself. Aren’t you? I guess, I need some more shit to happen to me, so I can tell you about it. Like, have my face licked…or my heart broken. Or maybe I’ll get knocked up. hehe.
Don’t you just think my misery makes much better reading? No one wants to hear how in love I am, or how good things are going. All y’all love it when I get dumped. Or hit on by serial killers. Or my hair sets on fire. Or I decide to date women. Omg. That is a great idea. Maybe I should date women. Actually, I was at lunch today, and a very close girlfriend of mine told me I should take up golf. I have no idea why lesbian sex reminds me of golf, but it just does. Anyway, my friend thought I would love it. Golf. Not lesbian sex. She’s married, to a great guy. But this is not about her. It’s about me, and golf. Focus. So golf, it’s a big thing down here. Could you just picture me, on the golf course…in my motorcycle boots, and skinny jeans. Bitching about the heat, and trying to keep my big mouth shut. Fuck, was she kidding? Golf for me, would be torture. Having to be quiet, and concentrate? An ADHD nightmare. But then, she mentioned you get to kibitz and drink! Whooooaaaa. There is drinking involved? Like Martinis, and chit-chatting while driving around in a cart? Hmmmm. Maybe this golf thing ain’t so bad after all! Do you sweat playing golf? I am not really into the whole sweating thing. Unless it’s on a beach, while basking in the sun. Or while having sex. Not lesbian sex. Get it out of your heads, guys. I know you are still picturing it. ha.
I remember the first time I went to a golf tourney here in Charlotte. It was the Wells Fargo Championship at Quail Hollow Country Club. Y’all know it, right? Well, being from Detroit, not only had I never heard of it…I barely knew what golf was. I mean, Mark golfed. But come on, it’s only warm 3 months of the year up north. So, I asked my Southern girls what to wear. One of them said to go to Lilly P. Ummm. Lilly P? Lilly P. Who the fuck is Liily P?! So I called my sister. “Julie, who the fuck is Lilly Pulitzer?” Like, was it a person. And my sister had no clue. She said, “Jennifer, am I supposed to know her?” I mean, we know Helmut Lang. We know Cynthia Rowley. We know Nicole Miller. But who on God’s green golf course is Lily Pulitzer!? When I finally figured it out, my girlfriend and I laughed for an hour. And then, she sent me to J.Crew. Oh boy, Welcome to the South, Miss Jen. But nothing beats a day at The Wells Fargo Championship. Men, drinking…and SUN. Who even watches the golf?
The sun. Warmth. Heat. I need some sun. Maybe a little jaunt to a tropical place would help me get my blogging-brain back in action. I could sip on some froofy-girly drinks, find me a cabana boy, or five…and sizzle away. Why can’t I think of anything to write about. There has to be something exciting in my life. Something fun, or silly…or horrific. Anything. Oh! I know… OMG!!!!! I do have something worth sharing. I ate dinner tonight at Target. In the little cafe area. Ya know, across from the restrooms. We had Pizza Hut, and Icees. But you know what, I am not ashamed. That dang Pizza Hut personal pan is the whip. And nothing, I mean nothing beats a Cherry Icee. I swear I have friends up in Detroit squirming in their chairs right now. And sticking fingers down their throats, in hopes that I will barf up some pounds.
Well, I guess I am just going to have to back away from the laptop for the weekend. Take a little break, and see what happens. Maybe next week I’ll find my juju. Yeesh. I sure hope so. I can’t imagine a Hurvitz without anything to say. Can you? ;)