There’s my writer’s block. A block of ice. I can try to chisel some shit piece of art out of it, but I’m not an artist so that won’t turn out well. I can take a blow torch to it, which is more my style. I’m good at smashing shit and blowing shit up. Did I ever tell you about the time that I took a baseball bat to an old laptop that was holding my Word file ransom inside of its ancient metal casing? I’ll have to tell you about all of my temper tantrums another day. My block of ice is melting (or in other words, Mrs. DRAGONE is starting to complain about having to look after the baby since 4 am this morning while I have to have my morning coffee, my morning blog, and my morning poo).
So how’s this for a segue. We’re potty training Baby DRAGONE this weekend. It goes against my better judgement, but I’ve learned that my better judgement is usually worse than Mrs. DRAGONE’s half-asleep, cranky-as-shit-and-on-her-period, needing-some-weird-nasal-pills-from-the-health-food-store judgement. So potty training here we go.
I was going to blog about it, but I couldn’t find a cute cartoon on Google Images that doesn’t have some copyright words camouflaging it (there’s got to be a name for that, but I don’t know what the hell it is!). It sure is annoying though. I sat on this idea for a good half hour while the tension in my household rose.
Aw fuck it. Just like the cartoon says, but in a much cuter way. I’m just gonna sit on my writer’s block and if necessary take a shit all over it, just like Baby DRAGONE is going to do on the $2000 living room rug my mom bought for me. I’ll have a drink today and maybe tomorrow I’ll take out the chisel and see what I can do. Or maybe the block will melt away and be gone forever, and I won’t ever think about writing again.