WRITER'S BLO(G/CK)

Okay, so, I talk about sex in this post.   If you’re related to me and don’t want to have to think about me as a sexual being, feel free to skip this post.   See you in the next one! As for the rest of you…   Sad Truths I put the word ‘sex’ in the title of this post, and I’m just hoping that nobody accuses me of using clickbait.   Because I really don’t have a sex life.   And that’s what this post is about. I am sexually inactive.   I used to label myself a virgin, but then people started to argue with me about that.   Some people would outright call me a liar, arguing against the mere concept of it.   “A 51 year old male living in 21 st century America?   A virgin?   I think not!” I’ve had other people argue that definition when they hear the specifics of what I’ve done (and haven’t done) sexually.   (Things I won’t get into graphic detail about here.)   I’ve had people tell me that I’m not a virgin, but only technical...

I’m an incredibly picky eater.   And I’ve been diagnosed with obsessive / compulsive disorder.   And those two things very neatly feed into each other like they were designed to do so.   What comparatively few things that I will actually eat belong to a category that my sister has dubbed “Mike Food”.     Hot Lunch When I started 1 st grade, my parents stuck me in the hot lunch program.   I hated it.   I begged and begged them to let me take a cold lunch to school.   To no avail.   In the 2 nd grade, I started getting horrible stomachaches that eventually led to me seeing the doctor.   Test were run, and it was determined that I had developed an ulcer.   How does a 2 nd grader develop an ulcer, you ask?   They examined my life and realized that I spent almost all of my time worrying about what the school was going to force me to eat the next day.   I got my cold lunch after that.     Fruits and Vegetables...

Okay, so, I posted a piece called “My Six Closest Friends” and I didn’t even mention Cyrus.   So he’s been grumpy for the past week.   (I suppose that he has a point in protesting his exclusion from the top six.   After all, he is the one I talk to most often.   They say it’s a sign of insanity to talk to yourself, so I instead talk to Cyrus.)   In an effort to placate him, I’m now going to write this post about him.   This, by the way, is Cyrus.   Stuffed Animal Person I’ve never been a dog person.   (I’m severely allergic, plus they have an unfortunate tendency to attack me with no provocation.)   Nor have I been a cat person.   (Also severely allergic.)   No, I’ve always been a stuffed animal person.   I’ve had stuffed animals as long as I can remember.   Bears, koalas, cows, rabbits, ducks, turtles, and a whole herd of plush bison.     Everything from cheaply made off-brands all the way up to Gund. ...

  As I sit here writing this, it’s 3:19 am.   Why?   Because I can’t sleep.   I went to bed around 9:30 tonight, sat in my sleeping chair until 11:00.   Then said, “Fuck it” and got up.   Went back to bed at 1:30.   Still didn’t manage to fall asleep.   Got up again a few minutes ago, and decided that I was in the perfect frame of mind to write about insomnia.     What Do You Mean By ‘A Good Night’s Sleep’? People are always talking about getting a good night’s sleep.   I don’t think that I ever get one of those.   If I’m lucky, I’ll get about half a night’s sleep.   But I wouldn’t necessarily label it ‘good’.   On a decent night, I’ll go to bed at 10:00 pm, and wake up about noon the next day.   Yes, that’s fourteen hours.   No, that’s not fourteen hours of sleep .   What typically happens is that I’ll sit there awake for several hours before finally dropping off to sleep.   Then I’ll sleep ...

According to My Little Pony, friendship is magic .   And don’t we all need some magic in our lives?   (Weirdest blog intro I’ve ever written.)   My 50 th Birthday Party On December 23 rd 2020, I turned 50 years old.   Eight months later, I celebrated that birthday.   (Two days before Christmas is just a stupid place on the calendar for a birthday, so lately I’ve been celebrating it on the first Sunday in August.)   This celebration occurred at my sister’s house.   In addition to me it was my sister and her husband, my brother and his wife, and all five of my niblings.   (My brother’s three kids Zeb, Ripley, and Tesla, and my sister’s two kids Macklin and Marshal.)   We’re all vaccinated (except for the youngest of the kids), and we all practice social distancing and self-isolation as much as possible, so nobody felt the need to wear masks.   A good time was had by all.   A couple of months earlier, my sister had been ...