My Life is Lame

I’m just spit ballin’ here, but I don’t think I could ever do porn. 

Seriously. I can’t even pee in front people.

Whenever I’m in a public restroom and someone stands next to me at the urinal, I die a little inside, and no matter how full my bladder is, its contents seems to evaporate.  I then stand there trying to force myself to pee, but strain so much I end up farting. 

This is my life. 

Getting back to my original point, I could never do porn.  Gosh there’s probably 3 camera men (Or women, but who are we kidding, you know they’re men) watching, the light guy, and the creepy sound guy.

And then of course the director.  How do you even direct porn anyways?  I feel like it would be awkward to interrupt two people going at it.  

“Excuse me.  Korina.  Can you try and keep your lazy eye from facing the camera.  And Mr. Long John.  Can you stop slapping her ass so much.  We’re running out of make up. And Uncle Gerry.  I told you if you’re going to be the sound guy, you’re gonna have to control that.”

So what are we are up to?  6 people would be watching.  Do producers go to the shoots?  Are there porn producers?  I guess someone has to produce that stuff.  And write it too?  

Porn writers must have the easiest job.

Int. Night. Office.

Mr. Man enters the office with his Co-worker Mr. Head.  They catch Cindy misusing the copy machine.  Cindy decides to show both Mr. Man and Mr. Head how much fun the copy machine can be.

BAM.  I just wrote porn b*tches.  

Maybe that’s my calling.  Maybe I should quit trying to be funny and just write porn.  I mean, I’m 22, I get horny a lot.  That’s definitely a plus when it comes to writing porn right?

I wouldn’t even have to change my name.  People could just call me Mr. Johnson. 

I want people to know that I’m sick.  Extremely sick.  Probably going to die soon.  Maybe by Sunday.  Around noonish. 

I have.  I can barely even say it.  It’s.  Well.  Writer’s block. 

I just don’t…

I can’t…

I have…

I want to say something, but don’t know how.

Honestly I think writer’s block is worse than being cock blocked because when you’re cock blocked you have two other options.  Left and right. 

I have so many ideas for topics to talk about, but all of them lead to no where. 

What kind of porn did Shakespeare watch?

How did Catdog poop?

Why is New York City obsessed with my hair?  ( On a side note, NYC is seriously obsessed with my hair.  Not a day goes by that I don’t get a compliment about how great my hair is.  The secret, is that I get out of the shower, and then push it out of my face. Eat it up NYC.  Eat it up.)

After writing that above paragraph I just stared at my computer for 5 minutes until I searched to see what the actresses name was who plays the evil queen on “Once Upon a Time.”  She was in 2 episodes of “LOST,” which makes me like her even more as a person than before.  She’s also the daughter of a former baseball player.  Go Wikipedia. 

Seriously though.  I’m losing it.  I guess one guy can only have so many drunk uncle stories before the drunk uncle story well goes dry. 

Seriously, there is not a drop left in that well.  

Maybe I haven’t mentioned God enough in my posts and so this is a punishment, but I thought that was what hell was far, so not cool God.  Not cool. 

Maybe I should just stop writing.  I have a full time job in the media.  The Broadcast media.  Who needs to write anymore anyways?  We can just watch everything. 

No.  I’m gonna keep at it.  I’m gonna keep finding awkward moments from my life/most likely yours because let’s admit, it if you’re reading this blog you’re a little Lame/awkward too. And why shouldn’t you be ya freak?

Now that I’ve insulted my readers I’m gonna get back to focusing on writing.  And by focusing on writing I mean watching TV.  And by watching TV I mean, seriously, I’m gonna be watching TV.  Just started “Downtown Abbey.”  Who knew PBS had non-boring shows.