Senseless Sunday Sarcasm : Life story
In one of those not-quite-awake moments, who hasn’t thought, “Why don’t I write an autobiography?”
After looking at a blank page for a few minutes, I wrote exactly 19 words:
I was born, inhabited Earth longer than most, and I will surely die of boredom writing about my life.
Really…who wants to know that I was born butt first; 5 pounds of trouble who never stopped being a pain in the @$$?
Who cares that I was married 5 times? It only means that “What about Bob” was wrong: Having Tourette Syndrome is not worse than death.
Who, in their right mind, wants to know that during my mid-life crisis I had a husband and two boyfriends? Or that Hubby thought it was a great idea to have that many guys in my life so I wouldn’t want so much…Hmmm…from him.
That’s more ho-hmmm than anyone should be subjected to.
Who cares that I’ve been with #5 for 24 years? Most would say, “She must be a slow learner.”
And they would be right. I’m still learning.
But that doesn’t make for an interesting story.
If you’re rich and famous, everyone wants to read about your 20 failed diet plans.
If you’re not — and you didn’t survive a 20-story fall with no broken bones after being abducted by aliens who gave you superpowers — no one wants to hear it.
As an example, this is in the news: “Astronauts successfully grew radishes on board the International Space Station for the first time in NASA history.”
Yes — people would rather hear about that than the time I was drunk in Reno, Nevada and almost had sex with an Eagle’s band member, but my best friend told him I was married.
Here’s something else I found interesting:
Ah, the things that plague us.