Usually, I don't even think about what I'm gonna write when I write here. I just sit down and ramble. Which I'm sure is not evident at all.
But today I am so TIRED, which has nothing to do with Tallulah taking up all the room on the bed, with her head on the pillow and her legs outstretched, sawing logs at the top of her lungs all night last night. So after a nutritious microwave-popcorn dinner, I asked Marvin, "What should I blog about tonight?"
"Well, why don't you blog about 'I'm Irked?'" he said. Marvin is a lot like my grandfather. Every time in the history of my life, whenever I was going to get my hair cut, my grandfather would say, "Why don't you get a butch haircut?" Now, why on earth would I WANT a butch haircut? In what world would this be a stellar idea? Yet he said it every time. This 'I'm Irked' idea ranked right up there with the butch haircut, and it came from nowhere.
"Why would anyone want to hear about 'I'm Irked'?" I asked him.
"Everyone would want to hear about it. It's hilarious. You wouldn't believe the number of comments you'll get if you talk about 'I'm Irked.'"
"I will get zero point zero comments. This is why no one ever read any of your blogs. There is nothing I can think of that would bore everybody more than reading about 'I'm Irked,'" I said.
With that, Marvin went in and scanned an 'I'm Irked'.
'I'm Irked' was a column I wrote for my high school newspaper. In the column, I complained about something new each time.
There was even a picture of me (see above) grabbing my mullet in frustration. In this hard-hitting article, where I complain about how annoying my classmate are, I said, "Let's make it clear that I am no tower of patience. I do tend to get irked slightly more than the average person. But it seems that people TRY to make me gnash my teeth in irkedness with their classroom habits."
I even wrote a whole column about how the side doors of the school were locked. A WHOLE COLUMN. "Every Wednesday and Thursday, I trudge back to school to go to swim practice — I'm a boys' swim team manager. The walk is not exactly tropical, thanks to Michigan's climate. When I finally see those high school doors, I whip a blue hand out of my coat pocket and reach for the brown handle of one of the side doors of the school.
"And do you know what happens to me? After that long, torturous walk to school, after I dedicate myself to an extracurricular activity? Do you know what happens? THE SIDE DOORS ARE LOCKED!"
If you think about it, this blog is just kind of a continuation of 'I'm Irked', isn't it?
I complained about repetitive TV commercials (I particularly hated the "How do you get your shirts so clean, Mr. Lee" commercial), and stupid rules my high school made up. Apparently, I had gotten in trouble for sitting in front of my locker: "I was told I was breaking a fire law. Is the high schooler's spine so hot that if she leans against a locker it'll burst into flames?"
Okay, that one was kind of funny.
I had also gotten into trouble for wearing a hat at school: "Lady Di wears hats. Why can't I? What terrible outcome will there be if my skull is decorated?"
You get the idea. Anyway, my biggest memory of the 'I'm Irked' column is that Faithful Reader PlumCow put one of my columns in her locker door, but she carefully erased and wrote over the letters so my column was 'I'm Naked'. Who got a kick out of her own self? Was it PlumCow?
So here is where I want to see if Marvin is correct or I am. What I say is WHO CARES ABOUT MY STUPID I'M IRKED COLUMN? I say I will get no comments on this post, or maybe seven. Marvin thinks they will roll in. ROLLLLLLL in.
Either way, I'm irked.