Backyard Boogie

I've been staring at this screen for twenty minutes hoping that something to write about will come to me and instead, all I have are the lyrics to Backyard Boogie going through my head over and over:

"Straight from Inglewood and you know that it's all good/
You can put that on your hood everyday"

While I'm ok with this, I also sense the mounting frustration that's coming with my self-imposed challenge to outblog myself this month and, in the process, sometimes sacrificing quality for quantity. Ahem. Time's up for today in an hour and a half and I know myself. If I walk away, I will sit down on the couch and watch my favorite show, I Survived, until I fall asleep with a half-drunk glass of wine in a plastic tumbler beside me and wake up just in time in the morning to go to yoga.

I Survived is great because it tells first person accounts of people's brushes with death and invariably gives me a leg up on all others who chose not to watch. When the tanker truck collides with the oncoming train, when the hostage-takers are assessing potential hostages for the taking or when an abusive ex-husband invites you into his house to ostensibly sign some paperwork, that shit is ON. I (will) Survived.

Yoga class is great because people fart and other people try not to laugh.

I know that many times throughout this week I've thought of surefire blog topics and, I'm telling you, if I could thing of a single one of those gems right now, I'd be killing it. Instead, I will leave you tonight with some sage words from Mitch Hedberg:

"Sometimes in the middle of the night, I think of something that's funny, then I go get a pen and I write it down. Or if the pen's too far away, I have to convince myself that what I thought of ain't funny"