Uh-oh. A theme is emerging.

Quick, give me something else to write about!

[Thanks to Ben for telling me how to capture a screen shot. (Are you here on Blogger somewhere, Ben? Leave me a comment!)]

Stop drinking? Have a few drinks? Make up your mind!

A-drinkin' and a-bloggin'

I've been meaning to post for ever-so-long, and for some reason I've had a bit to drink today, and it seems like I'm getting more done than while completely sober. Don't worry about me; I hardly drink at all anymore. When I do it's usually just one drink, and I'm left wondering if they put any alcohol in it. I should be a weenie when it comes to alcohol, but maybe my college days and stand-up days induced a permanent increase in the hooch-processing liver enzymes -- though I certainly was a lightweight back then. Huh.

And I'm not drinking alone, either. My five-year-old son Matthew is here, though he doesn't have any extra additives in his Diet Pepsi -- just the ones Pepsi-Co puts in. And I'm a happy drunk, much more likely to have a giggle fit or fall asleep rather than yell or hit or cry, so Matthew doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he might like me better this way. This morning he picked up his Pirates of the Caribbean (thank the gods for spell-check) Magic-8-Ball-like thing and, deciding it would grant wishes, asked to have a good mom. WTF?!? He elaborated, when pressed, that he wants a mom that doesn't do boring stuff,* and it would be fine if that mom were me, but that just didn't do boring stuff. In fact, he seems quite content with me in my current state, as he just came over, sat next to me, gave me a hug, and told me he loves me. And I think I'm even more attentive than usual right now, making up for any drinking-in-the-presence-of-my-preschooler guilt going on.

* Boring stuff: Presumably, surfing the internet, watching scary medical shows like House, and not wanting to make yet another box out of paper. (And, yes, I know the footnote is supposed to go at the foot, but who knows where that's going to be?)

Back to getting more done. Rather than catching up on my Stargate episodes, or incessantly probing the internet trying to decide what kind of used car I want (it has to take E85 because I can't afford a hybrid), or playing some silly computer solitaire game, I've emptied, filled, and run the dishwasher, unclogged the tub drain, added salt to the water softener and done three or four other neglected things on my ever-expanding to-do list. Though, after this, I might need another little nip before I tackle the lovely litterboxes. Alcohol inhibits stuff, so it must be inhibiting my don't-do-anything-that-is-important-or-will-improve-my-life neurons.** Note to self: "Experiment with drinking in order to get more done in future." Dammit, another item for my to-do list!

** (I hope you don't mind, but I'm particularly enamored of let's-make-a-really-long-adjective-by-putting-lots-of-words- together-in-what-is-a-probably-very-irritating-especially-to- prescriptivists-way hyphens, even when I'm sober. Deal with it.)

In case you think that sitting at the computer writing all this drivel is another waste of my time, let me relieve you of that misconception. I really need to spend more time on my much-neglected creative artsy side, and at least this is something. If you disagree, shut the hell up. (And if you think that directive is an indication that I am an angry drunk after all, you don't know me and my passive-aggressive tendencies. I'm only passive-aggressive because I seem to have very little capacity to be overtly aggressive. Or even assertive. Or to let anyone know what I want or need at all, even if it wouldn't any difference to them.)

Ahem. What I would like to accomplish is to write at least three minutes of decent stand-up, but I haven't even written 30 seconds of atrocious stuff. Writer's block, you know. Maybe I'll blog something I can adapt. But probably not today. Right now I've got to get a refill on my rum and Jazz Diet Pepsi Black Cherry French Vanilla zero calorie flavored soda (naturally and artificially flavored) and get to those litterboxes. Yee-ha!

More writing later -- perhaps the next time I drink.