Yellow Mustard Blog

There are some stretches of time where I get the urge to do something worthwhile, usually after I've peeled myself off my kitchen floor and brushed off the remnants of a family-sized bag of Doritos bag that had occupied most of my previous night. I get the idea that maybe I can write for a living, and spend glorious days cranking out satire for The Onion and slowly building an adoring throng of socially ackward blog readers. I have a feeling that these dreams are due to the severe dehydration one experiences when consuming 2,500% of their daily sodium allowance in a 3 hour period. Once I've had some Gatorade, these thoughts usually turn into a strong urge to pee.

I've been entertaining the idea of writing a column for the SD Reader or some local newspaper. I've found that publications like these tend to hire professional people with a good grasp on English grammar. Since I'm still struggling with the concept of a dangling participle, I think I'd probably have to start out writing the lowest rung of newspaper articles. I can just imagine the sparkling wit and candor I will bring to such topics as "Local Kiwanis Club holds 3rd Annual Blood Drive/Three-Legged Race for Seniors", "San Diego Bike Cops teach course on How to Fight Off a Maglite-weilding Bum" and "10 Signs That Raw Sewage Has Yet Again Tainted Your Drinking Water".

But that won't make me happy. That's the problem. I want to start up at the top. I'm built for the high life baby. No human interest piece on the history of the corndog is going to satisfy my lust for exposure and fame. No, only a fourth-page bi-weekly column in the Life section of the Clairemont Bee will sate this journalism juggernaut.

Wait wait wait. Scratch all that. I don't want to write for any newspaper or circular or pennysaver. I just want to write stuff that will make people laugh. Not a belly laugh or anything, I don't want to be causing hernias. In fact, maybe not out loud, cause people might be chewing or something, and I don't want any choking accidents. Perhaps just a safe, inward chuckle, possibly while hugging a pillow. That's good.