how dry i am

My bout of writer's block couldn't have come at a worse time. I just started a blog and now I'm discovering that I don't have all that much to say. This is highly unusual because I can instant message like a champ and have choked many an inbox with my email missives. At first I thought maybe it was stage fright but I realized that I'm running on fumes creatively because I'm feeling rather content lately. Misery is my muse and she's all but vanished. I recently gave a shitty, ego-bruising job the kiss off and I'm finding that unless I have something to bitch or complain about, I'm not very entertaining. This happy-go-lucky crap is really putting a damper on my creative spark. As sick as it may sound, I have even tried to jump start a bad mood by thinking about some of my usual triggers: my dire financial state... memories of a failed romance... the fact that my beloved Yankees have sucked ass so far this season and my NJ Devils got bounced from the Stanley Cup playoffs in the first round... but nope, nothing's brewing.

Now I won't go so far as to say that I'm exuberant or even worse -- chipper -- but lately something about me is making others think I am. People are smiling at me in the street and saying hello. Downtown Brooklyn has suddenly turned into Walnut Grove... minus Harriet and Nellie Oleson, of course. Soon I'm going to have to start wearing a bonnet and carrying my lunch around in a pail.

taxicab confession

I seem to be stuck in a cycle where strangers feel completely comfortable telling me rather intimate details of their lives. I think I emit some sort of pheromone that attracts highly-personal relationship-gone-wrong stories and detailed (and usually very graphic) medical histories. Seriously, I've been pretty patient about it up to now but I am instituting a zero tolerance policy when it comes to discussing certain ailments. If your condition involves phlegm, fungus or oozing... move on. Please note that this is not an exhaustive list -- I'll update it as the need arises.

But I digress... in a cab ride from the Upper West Side to Brooklyn tonight, I discovered that my cab driver:

:: is against the upcoming fare hike
:: hates Bloomberg and is concerned for all New Yorkers about the rising cost of living in NYC
:: lives in a 3-bedroom in Elmhurst and only pays $550/month
:: will be evicting a freeloading woman he's been shacking up with for the past seven years... TOMORROW. Apparently, she's been lying to him and bleeding him dry and he "can't have that." Girlfriend will be pounding the pavement tomorrow if all goes according to plan. ::snap snap::

I actually didn't mind my verbose driver and this very personal exchange. He totally disarmed me and I even answered some of his questions and politely dodged the ones about the whereabouts of my boyfriend. I think it was his soon-to-be-single status and the toothpick dangling from his mouth that made me stonewall him during certain portions of the getting-to-know-you exercise. But he redeemed himself after I paid my fare... he removed the toothpick and blew me a kiss of thanks without being gross about it. I almost offered to go to Queens to help him evict the dirty skank.

my inaugural post

I vividly remember a police officer visiting my class when I was in the 6th grade to discuss the dangers of drugs. During his lecture, the cop lit up a joint and basically told us that one quick puff on it would inevitably lead us down a wretched path where we'd end up smoking crack behind some dumpster in Newark. Now, I'm loathe to admit that he was right but in some cases, I do believe a first taste can result in instant addiction. For me, guest-blogging for a vacationing friend was my gateway drug. I only wrote one entry on blindcavefish.com but I became absolutely intoxicated with the medium. I was thrilled with the notion that I could publish some of my own off-kilter stories and observations in relative anonymity. I won't lie to you -- the thought that I'd achieve a modicum of celebrity and maybe attract me a groupie or two definitely crossed my mind...

I've been published before but I covered a pretty lame beat -- curing diaper rash, creating the perfect mudroom and avoiding botulism at a picnic (note: stay away from the potato salad -- it'll mess you up!) My mother has been known to show my articles to her coworkers and send them to my aunts and uncles in Scotland so I never really had a chance to showcase my salty-tongued, cynical side. So here I am... ready to unleash my potty-mouthed, unedited alter ego.

To JH -- thanks for pestering my ass to do this.