Wanted: Muse

Let's take a moment to discuss the white elephant that has parked his happy ass right on top of this blog. He walked in, saw a glaring vacancy, and decided that this would be his new home. No one else was using it, right? Stupid squatter.

The problem is that when he decided to set up camp on my blog, he also sat right on top of my head. And squished out any of the blog post inspiration that I may have had. Any clever ideas wafting around in my brain evaporated into the cosmic goo of death.

So...why make an appearance now, you ask? I can't know. Perhaps because it's daylight savings time and the darkness makes me need someone to type to? Or maybe I needed a round of anonymous therapy. Whatever the case, it's clear that I am going to need a little help. Like...a muse. And before you get all up in my grill about what that means, let me clarify: I'm not talking about your stereotypical type of muse - you know, the Greek goddess type with the enormous, heaving cleavage who uses her sexual charms to inspire her admirers to be brilliant. (I could totally go off course right now on the sociological effects of using the female sexuality in that way, but wah-wah. How predictable. I'll spare you.)

I got nothin'. Except...maybe this -

I have had 3 - count 'em - THREE false starts to this blog post, but mostly just ended up with drool dripping down my chin and a glazed look in my eyes. And then this "thing" happened to me today that - although not a really big deal to me in the grand scheme of things, was quite possibly a really big deal to someone else. And all of a sudden, all of these thoughts were swirling around in my head, making me feel like I had a piece of prime rib stuck to my back while Kujo was in hot pursuit. I mean - for real, people. Don't you sometimes wish your brain had an "off" switch?

The best I can give you today is this: I think I sort of got accused of being a homewrecker today (in a round about sort of way), and whoa. It's making my freakin' head spin. Perhaps it wasn't so much an accusation as it was a perception and subsequent implication by someone else. *la la la* And I guess I'm telling you this because, well frankly, it gave me pause. After living through the hell of my assbag ex and his vow breaking sex-capades, I am gobsmacked as to why anyone would think I would ever go there. I am talking COMPLETELY GOBSMACKED. Not just sort of gobsmacked. Like A LOT gobsmacked. And by the way, I love the word gobsmacked.

Woo! The digressing!

I'm not going to elaborate anymore, because I respect the parties in question too much. It's just completely bizarre to me to be sitting on this side of the fence when I gave so little thought to the situation to begin with.

Right. That's the best I got. You'll have to also consider this my plea to the cosmos to send me a real muse. There must be something, anything better than that, right?

Whatever. Whilst I chew on this startling switch from victim to homewrecker, I've decided to jump into a torrid love affair with these babies:

So, so - custom, so - heat-molded, so - oh so hot! Please bless I can do so without another torn ligament.