I got up too early
It’s Saturday for God’s sake
When I do this (what the header says, up there ^), I can get goofy, yes, but also brilliantly funny. I mean, you ought to hear me. Often, I’m SO damn funny, that as I’m trying to relate my humorous thoughts to my husband (aka SHH-& if you don’t know what that means, you have not been reading my Cult Jam long enough, but because I would like you to ALWAYS read it, I’m going to let you in on the secret and tell you what it stands for-Super Hero Husband), I’m laughing so hard as I speak, that he claims he cannot understand me. I suspect that it’s just a ruse, because come on, even among the most lovey dovey couples, you know they can’t feel lovey dovey ALL the time, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and trust that he can’t understand me. But anyway (those two words, by the way, are often used together in my family, and when I say “often,” I mean pretty much always, to the point of irritation even by me, or say, my brother, or my dad, and I think surely, if we think hard enough about this, we can come up with something different to say when transitioning from one stupid topic to the next. Amirite? I really hate it when I see others write amirite instead of the actual words. But I did it just now, because I’m trying to be a little more relaxed, especially when I am purportedly writing about humor, for God’s sake.) Where was I, if you’re still with me? Oh yeah, my too-early-in-the-morning-humor. For some unknown firing of neurons in my brain, I was remembering that on a radio station (Google it kids) in high school, the DJ would play this obnoxious song, early, like at 7am, just over an hour before I had to be at school. It went something like this, really fast: Good Morning good morning good morning! It’s time to rise and shine. Good morning good morning good morning! I hope you’re feeling fine. The sun is just above the hill…” Then nothing. I’m compelled to finish at least one verse. “…hill. It’s time for me to take a pill. Then thirteen more-perhaps I will. They get on my nerves and make me mad. The next thing you know I’ll say something BAD.” Like, I’m sick of being sick, it’s simply a pain in the proverbial ass! Also the real ass, to be honest. I’m pretty sure that those were not the lyrics. But they’re MY lyrics, okay?! But anyway (I did warn you about this, amirite , oh hell, am I right?) for some ridiculous reason, the very memory of that song just cracked me up, which got all of this started.
Now, dear subscribers*, it’s time to drink coffee and get serious about this DAY. Why, you may SAY? Look, I’m not a poet and despite trying to read it and love it, I’m not good at it and I don’t love it, even when written by ancient masters. Thanks for reading, is all I was trying to get to.
*Everybody says “dear readers,” so I wanted to say something creative and
different. At first, and at last, I used “dear subscribers,” which, be honest, is just clunky and stupid-sounding. I changed it to “dear subs.” SHH said “no! Don’t write that!” “Why not?” I replied. “It’s a short way to write SUBMISSIVES!” said SHH “Or,” said I, “subCONTRACTORS! Or subMISSIONS! Or subSTITUTIONS! Or subDIVISIONS! Shall I go on?” SHH in a stern voice, which, normally, I would not put up with, insistently said, “All I’m saying is, I don’t think you should write subs.” So you are ‘dear subscribers,’ and I’m sorry it’s so banal.