Oh, Lucy! You got some memeing to do!

Since I achieved a full consecutive hour of sleep last night/this morning, I feel ready to run a marathon and blog like there’s no tomorrow. Man, you don’t know how sweet a straight hour of sleep feels when you haven’t had it in a while. I’ve always been a bit testy with the sleeping thing, requiring white noise out the wazoo and a fan blowing in my face. It’s like sleeping on the tarmac below a 747 preparing for take-off. I’m getting sleepy now just thinking about all the wind and noise. Ahhhh. In Winter, I can kill two birds with one stone (not just with my front window) by aiming a space heater towards the bed. (the unfortunate soul that gets positioned too close to the edge of the bed may get a$$ of fire…it’s all about proper distancing) Oh, you wanna know a dirty little secret? Well, it’s not so much dirty as it is 1950s sleeping arrangements. E. detests the fan and noise, so guess what?! Yep, we don’t sleep in the same bed nor the same room even. He’ll cough and carry on like his throat is seizing shut because of the fan. We’re basically roommates that procreate on rare occasions. I can’t express to you how highly dysfunctional I truly am.

I’ve been tagged and nudged by a few cool cats for some memes. Let’s see what we can knock out today.

Amy, the Saint of Wayward Critters, tagged me for the ‘You’ve Got an Extra Hour in Your Day; What Cha Gonna Write?’ meme. She was so kind to suggest I get an extra hour of sleep and skip writing all together. See, I told you she’s a saint. I’m working on a clever medallion for her now.

Aside from applying for writing gigs/lowering my self-confidence by being ignored, you wanna know what I’d really like to write? This is quite original…I’m not sure you can handle the magnitude of its originality. Are you sitting down? (I sure hope you sit when you scroll through your blog fodder for the day. I’d feel bad knowing you’re crouched in a runner’s stance ready to sprint away any second from the phat knowledge I’m dropping on you. Sit down. Relax. Read a while. Gain some weight in front of that computer screen.) Yes, so my tres original plan…I’d like to write a book. See, I told you. Very original. Unheard of. Who, besides everyone on the planet, dreams of writing a book?

In my dream world, someone would spot me a year’s salary and give me that time to mastermind a clever, witty succession of pages known as a book. (I realize this would entail more than an extra hour in the day. I can hear the space heater in the next room…I’m asleep and dreaming here, buddy.) I would write in the vein of Christopher Moore, Tom Robbins, Tim Sandlin. These guys make me laugh out loud with their smart humor. I like to laugh. I also like long walks on the beach, fruity drinks with the cute little umbrella, and smiling. Oh, woops, this isn’t my online dating profile, is it? (have you read some of those dating profiles? we’d kill time in the lab surfing to see who from the department was trying to score online. seriously, too many people say they enjoy ’smiling and laughing.’ Oh, really? And, I bet breathing air and blinking your eyes just sets you on fire.)

Christopher Moore…a dear friend (who I call Mr. President but don’t recall why) from Tennessee turned me on to this guy. My mom can be a bit on the nutty side and has some, oh how shall we put this without fully exposing the oozing nasty sore, delusions of grandeur. (and, that’s all I’ve got to say about that…for now…she has entertained the masses with her tales, so you’re sure to get more of Mom at some point…it’s just to good to keep to myself…I’ll throw out a few names here for you: Pasty Cline, Elvis Presley, Rambo, and Jesus Christ) Anywho, Mr. President sends me a package one day with the note, “Thought you might enjoy this book about your Uncle Jesus.” Indeedy, I loved Lamb and started reading all the Moore books I could get my hands on. As with any author, some works are better than others, but I’m generally interested enough to finish each book of his.

My Christopher Moore dedication was put to the test recently when I checked out his A Dirty Job from the local library. Skimming the jacket recap, I knew it would be one I’d likely read straight through the night. Get this…the book was chock full of boogers and bloody snot. I’m talking actual boogers and actual smears of bloody snot streaked across every 10 or 20 pages…for the length of the entire book! Wtf? I can’t imagine doing such a thing to your own book but to desecrate a library book in such a manner?! At what point did he/she decide to tackle the nose tickle and then use pages from the book to clean up the mess??? Maybe someone’s kid snatched up the book and mistook it for a stiff, multi-paged Kleenex. I don’t know. What I do know is that it was the library’s only copy and I’d already waited a month to get my clean, booger-free hands on it. And, I had a good 100 pages invested in the book before stumbling upon ‘welcome to the inside of your irritated nose.’ That’s how much I enjoy Christopher Moore. So much so that I would read a book of his full of boogers while wearing a haz-mat suit and turning pages with tongs.

Tom Robbins. A grad school buddy insisted I read his favorite book, Another Roadside Attraction. He used this book as a measure of how cool a person was and if they were friend material. Nice, no pressure there, buddy. Well, I fell instantly in love with the book and now regularly give out copies. (and, secretly, judge a person by their like or dislike of the book…”oh, you didn’t like the book? oh, you didn’t even read past page 20? well, you suck.”) I think it might take a slightly twisted mind to get into Robbins. So, if you’re not slightly twisted, go read a paperback romance novel.

Tim Sandlin. I had run out of fresh Robbins and had yet to discover Moore. Fishing around in a Barnes & Noble, one of the book guys recommended Sandlin. Said if I like Robbins, I’d like Sandlin. And, yeh, I like him. I can’t say that I have a favorite book of his, so maybe I’m more into Moore and Robbins. But, I have read all the goodies he has to offer.

Notice anything about those three authors? They all have dingle dangly genitalia. No girls in the bunch. Maybe there’s a female writer in their club I’ve yet to discover. I hope so. But, just in case, I’ll dream big and use my extra hour to join this witty boy’s club.

Wow, that was the drawn out version of a one-answer meme. My extra hour of writing? Starting on my own concoction of a twisted witty book. There.

More memes to come in the near future.