Ever look up at the stars and think to yourself: "Gee, that's a lot of stars..."?
...
Alright, I knew it. I knew that as soon as I'd signed up and started a blog, I'd run out of things to say. Sure enough here I am, day 2 of my blogging career, and I've already run out of things to write. I've got brain block. Blog block. Sure I know I don't have to write everyday, but I mean, last night/this morning while I was away from my computer, I had TONS of stuff that I wanted to put down in words to share with the world, but of course I couldn't until now and now that I'm here, it's all gone! GONE!!! *sigh* I really thought I was going to be all cool and have cool things to write about for everyone to read and enjoy, but it doesn't look that way...I'm just a wannabe cool person. *hangs head in shame* I'm going to walk away from this computer now and put away my laundry, but I bet that as soon as I do, I'm going to get an idea and then I'll be all frustrated about why the idea didn't come to me earlier and then I'll come back to write all about it, but then as soon as I get back here, all my thoughts'll be all a jumble again and then I'll get even more frustrated and then I won't even want to write anymore and then I'll sit here and stare fumingly at the computer screen and by then I'll be back to square one. It always works that way. Grrr... Until then, here's that classic "I can't believe I actually had that conversation" conversation to hold my blog space over until my block is gone...

(Special thanks to Boobin for picking up the phone that day...)

  “Hello?” he answered the phone.
  “Hey, you busy?” I asked.
  “Actually, yeah, kinda.”
  “What are you doing?”
  “You have to guess, but I’ll give you a clue: I’m playing with something—it starts with cock.”
  “Aww, you got a dog! That’s so cute!”
  A thoughtful pause ensued on his end of the line. I explained myself.
  “A cockerspaniel?”
  “Oh, I get it…no no, not that kind of cock. My god, where’s your mind getting off to?!”
  “Sorry, I apologize—this isn’t easy, you know.”
  “Alright, another clue then: the cock I’m playing with tends to ooze stuff once in a while.”
  A thoughtful pause ensued on my end of the line. I was stumped.
  “I’m sorry, guy, I really have NO idea what kind of cock you’re playing with.”
  “Come on, Mel, it’s a caulking gun! I’ve been playing with a caulking gun all day!”
  “Oh really? Been caulking a lot of stuff?”
  “Yeah, a lot of stuff needs to be caulked by me.”
  “Really? What kind of stuff have caulked then?”
  “I caulked the bathtub. I caulked the sink too. Oh, and I caulked some windows; I caulked those REAL good.”
  “So you’re experienced with caulking then?”
  “I’d like to consider myself one of the strongest and best caulkers I know. Actually, caulking small crevices is my specialty—I caulk those the best.”
  “Really?...”
  I snickered just then, but tried to contain it and continue.
  “So, when you caulk…”
  I snickered again. He cut me off.
  “You laughed. You ruined it. Give it up. You suck. You sick minded girl. Get off the phone, you failure.”
  I laughed freely now.
  “Fine. Enjoy your caulking. Call me later.”
  “Bye.”
  “Bye.”

Have you ever noticed that the sound of a flushing toilet often sounds like a thunderous round of applause? Just think about it for a sec; you're sitting there doing your thing, you stand up, and then there's that rushing din that explodes out of no where to punctuate the fact that you're done. It closely resembles the sound of the audience at a concert, just after the band's finished their last number; and why shouldn't it? You've afterall just finished a number of your own.

...wow. For a first post, I've gotten pretty ridiculous already...