I can picture you reading this right now, leg over your knee as the news loads in the background, thinking to yourself “What happened? She used to be funny.” You shake your head in disappointment.
You’re right. I was funny (at least, I was funnier). And now? Well, now the only laughs I get are from jazz hands and Potter enthusiasm. It’s tragic. As a beautiful-ish girl what else do I have to fall back on if not my illustrious (and unpaying) career as a blogger?
Nothing. I have nothing to fall back on. My Potter jokes will only carry me so far in life.
(Here’s one for you:
You know who?
BAM! That’s right, I went there.
I suppose I could try to take up serious writing (since Sirius writing has already been done … thank you, JKR!).
But serious fiction has never been my forte. I tend to veer too far into the “angst zone” when writing fiction and, as I am not a twelve year old girl or Stephenie Meyer, I can’t really get away with it.
Another option would be for me to retire from blogging all together. Write one last post for my loyal follower and gracefully bow out, never to blog again. But that option doesn’t sit well with me. (Not out of any faith in my ability to overcome this lull, or any misplaced stubbornness. No, I can’t retire because I can’t leave on such a low note. I need to wait until I get some laughs, bring tears to your eyes, or at the very least get sued by Nicholas Sparks for my past and future tirades.)
Really, the only path I can take is to continue posting, revelling in my mediocrity and “ish-factor”. Don’t worry, I promise to throw in the occasional lolcat and someecards picture so you can at least laugh at something.
PS. Admit it, you laughed at the knock knock joke. Don’t worry, I did too.