Writing Exercise

Here comes another writing exercise.

Sure, sure there are some of you out there who feel I have more topics that I could be writing about. Some might be curious how Little Man is holding up under the withering glare of autocratic Papa. Some of you might be curious as to how Wifey is doing in Canada. There area substantial portion of you fine folk who would like more information regarding my mom’s Cancer of the Lady Bits. Well, there is not much to report regarding the homefront, the Canadianfront, or the momfront. Little Man and I are getting along just fine, Wifey is surviving well enough in the frigid tundra that is Canada, and I am also awaiting more information on Mom’s Cancer of the Hoo-Hah. Little Man will be well and tired of me by tomorrow evening when he would like me to make Manwich (which he is happy to announce rhymes with sandwich, I mentioned that was part of Manwich’s marketing plan, but he seemed unimpressed.) Wifey is feeling comfortable and confident in a relatively unknown role for her at the group facilitation thing she is doing. My mom should be in appointment right now finding out more information about the Cancer that Shall Not Speak Its Name.

I could try and create a post from the fringes of my consciousness, but, honestly that is more work that I am willing to commit to. Plus, with the level of my sleep deprivation that I am currently enjoying, the continuity of a post like that would be questionable at best. Truthfully, there is a good chance that a contrived post from the esoterica that is intertwined between my conscious and subconscious self would ramble aimlessly on for over a page, briefly alighting on subjects as varied as the horrid voice acting from The ThunderCats, the theory of relativity, and why Dora’s amazingly huge noggin frustrates me so.

No one wants to read my ill-formed rants about 80’s cartoons, Einsteinian Physics, and poorly thought out children’s programming. While the voice acting on the Thundercats seems dismal, I am pretty sure it was not the voice actors fault as much as it was just a poorly conceived cartoon created in the beginning of the market driven cartoons. That being said, I will not be focusing on that even remotely. And don’t get me started on Dora’s inability to look behind her. It has to do with la gigante cabeza Dora is sporting. She can’t turn that massive oblong monstrosity in time to spot Swiper. It really is too bad that boots is such a useless primate. If Dora was paired up with Gleek swiper would be a stole. I swear that Gleek was the only character with a lick of sense from the Superfriends, but that is a topic for another day.

So, really, the most responsible avenue as a conscientious blogger is to stay away from the rambly stream of consciousness that would occur with any sort of attempted post without the structure associated with a writing exercise. So here it goes:

Finish this.
John and Charlie didn’t know…

how Sam got the glitter on his upper lip, but they were pretty sure they didn’t want to find out.

To recap:
Man, am I tired
Capt McArmypants should be visiting soon
Maybe tomorrow
Maybe Friday
Day 3 of 5 sans Wifey
For some reason I think Wifey and Capt McArmypants will be arriving on the same day
Listening to Ghost Riders in the Sky by Johnny Cash
Digital Thursday tomorrow