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Let’s Take a Stroll Through My Nightmare, Shall We?

There are two times in my day when I can slip into ‘autopilot mode’ and really be creative.

The first of these, as I’ve mentioned many times before, is in the shower. This is by far my most productive time for thinking up wild, ridiculous crap to unleash upon you and the people unfortunate enough to watch my standup comedy sets. There’s something about having a not-quite-fully-awake brain, a naked body, and gallons of hot, steamy water that just gets my juices flowing, if you know what I mean.

(And, I’m afraid, you do. Or at least, I’m afraid that you think you do, you perverted little monkey. But I’m talking about creative juices, not… well, not any other kind of juices at all. Even pee. Which may or may not flow in the shower, but that’s not important right now. And, if you’re lucky, won’t be important ever. I mean, do you really want to know?)

Anyway, I have a lot of ideas in the shower. Not necessarily good ones, and certainly not primarily clean ones, despite all the soap and shampoo lying around. Seriously, you’d be shocked at the shit that comes out of me when I’m in the shower.

(Hey, hey — I thought I told you to keep your mind out of the gutter, there, pork chop. Let’s focus here, all right?)

But I’ve told you about my showers before.

(Much to your horror and dismay, I’m sure.)

What I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned is the other creatively fertile time of my day, which is the walk from my car to the office. This is a relatively new phenomenon for me — at my last job, I had a spot in the parking lot next to the building, so I barely had a chance to take care of the essentials (hook my ID on my belt, straighten my hair, and make sure my fly is zipped) between the car and the front door. And, if I got a really good parking spot, I wouldn’t get all of those things done, and I might walk in with mussed hair, no ID, or an open crotch cage. Or all three at once. No doubt this is part of the reason why that’s my ‘old job’. Feh.

But now, I split time between two offices, and have parking at neither. Also, there’s a very active and extremely sneaky bunch of meter bitches and parking Nazis patrolling both areas.

(I’ve ranted long and hard about this at least once before.)

So, to beat the system — and keep my wallet at least a little fuller — I park several blocks away from each office and walk the rest of the way. It’s not the most efficient use of my time, or my vehicle, but it does minimize the number of tickets I have to eat, and it also gives me another chance to get some random thinking done. Whether I want to or not.

See, these goofy ideas and ridiculous premises just come to me, often without warning or any sort of effort. People sometimes ask how I think of some of the outlandish ideas I present here — well, honestly, I don’t know. All I can tell you is that they pop into my head from time to time, and I don’t seem to be able to stop them, even with repeated blows to the head with heavy, blunt objects. Believe me, I’ve tried. I get bloody, certainly, and often confused… but the ideas keep coming. Apparently, my brain’s just wired a little screwy.

And folks, you don’t know the half of what worms its way into my little skull, believe me. I know it must seem like I just blat every little fricking thing that comes into my head onto the blog, but no. Oh, no — not by a longshot. I actually filter out a lot of crap before writing; all sorts of boobered bullshit gets sifted out before I ‘go to press’. Or at least sifted into the ‘Fix This Or Kill It‘ file, where I decide it’s just not quite good enough to beat you people over the head with.

Don’t believe me? Okay, I’ll give you an example, from today’s trek from the car to the office. During that little stroll today, I thought of no less than three things. Now one of them might just be worth working into a post of its own (like later today, maybe — hint, hint). Another, I would probably use in conversation a couple of times, and — if it went over well — I’d probably work it in here somewhere. The third… well, the third, I’d usually forget about as soon as possible, and probably even use copious amounts of alcohol to speed the process along. I don’t know where the hell it came from, and I could have gone my whole life without having thought of it. I’m slightly more disturbed for having it pop into my head.

So, now that you’re sufficiently intrigued, wanna hear what these things are? You can be on the cutting edge of this blog, see some of the things that only I see, hear what the little voices tell me directly. Interested? What? No? Well, tough noogies, baby — you’re getting it, anyway. If I have to put up with this shit, then I’m taking you down with me. I guess this just isn’t your lucky day. Deal.

So, the first thing, which you might see again later today: As I began my walk, I started thinking — for reasons I cannot fathom — what it might be like if I called one of those phone psychic people. As phony as those bastards are, I think they’d have pretty good luck with me — I’m predictable, I’m gullible, I’m a typical guy… hell, they should be able to peg me completely. The idea needs a bit of work, but I think there’s something there. We’ll see what I can make of it later on.

The second thing, which I’d normally ‘play-test’ a few times before using it here, is a new euphemism. Again, I don’t know where the hell it came from, or why I thought of it while I was walking over the bridge to the medical area where I work. (But it is in keeping with my goal to invent as many sexual euphemisms as possible this year. Anyway, here’s what came to me in a flash, as I crossed the bridge:

‘getting my nutters fluffered‘

Frankly, I think it’s a winner. No idea what the hell it has to do with that bridge, or Tuesday morning traffic, or whatever else was in front of me at the time, but there it is. The mind works in mysterious, kinky, god-awful ways. At least, mine does. Eep.

Finally, and most embarrassingly, was the thing that struck me while I was still on the block where I parked my car. Fully formed, and with no stimulus that I could recognize, the following alternate lyric to Billy Joel’s ‘She’s Always a Woman‘ — which I haven’t heard in years, by the way — came slamming into my brain:

‘She’s got a way… of crusting

But I’ll bet it’s dirty, and disgusting.‘

And that was it. No more than that — just a snippet, really, for no discernable reason. This is the type of shit that happens all the time, too. I need some serious help, folks. I’m beginning to think I was dropped on my head as a child — at the top of a pyramid, maybe, and I ba-ba-bumped all the way down, like Homer Simpson down a cliff face. That would be some explanation, at least, and a far better one than just being born this way. I don’t think there was that much inbreeding in my family! I mean, sure — a little… but I gotta believe it’d take a whole frigging limbload of ‘kissing cousins’ to create this kind of brain genetically. Surely there’s got to be some blunt-force trauma in there somewhere, right?

Anyway, that was my walk to work this morning. Typical for me, really. Frightening for you, no doubt — frightening and highly distasteful, but there it is, nonetheless. Just be glad that I usually shield you from such nonsense — maybe now you’ll be able to appreciate this blog a little more, if only for what’s not contained within these pages. There’s a whole lotta crap you don’t see, and you should probably be thankful for it. Just — you know — not today. Today you’re in my world. I just pray I haven’t done you any permanent damage. Lord knows you wouldn’t want to live your whole life like this. Ick!