Remember when I was like “I’m going to be the best blogger ever! I’m going to post twenty millions times and have so many awesome things to blab about!” That’s easy to say when you are ankle deep in a string of perfect central park picnic days outside and you’re still filled with that newfound Summer optimism that says “I will be able to find the time. Bring it on! I’ll find time to blog no matter what because I’m the awesomest blogger ever! I’m unstoppable! I’m like … Wolverine!!!”
In hindsight, I can see that getting your hopes up was foolish. I am a mortal blogger crammed into a city of a couple million people. I’ve had high anxiety for three days now, not to mention that I’m pretty sure that I’ve succeeded in giving myself Type II diabetes from a trip to Disneyworld … so that will need to be attended to as well. What I’m trying to say is that I overestimated myself. I’m not like Wolverine. I’m more like that one guy whose only power is the ability to resemble a magical big-lipped fish. Only I don’t even have the ability to resemble a fish. At least not convincingly. I mean, I can do a pretty awesome fish impression, but I doubt I could fool anyone for even a second into believing that I am an actual magical big-lipped fish.
Okay, Emily just got here. Crap. I’ve been hiding in my room, huddled at my desk, trying to write as frantically as possible before I am called to my door to go eat some sort of Korean fusion food, which I am told has something similar to a pancake, but I’m not buying it. How can you fuse Korean spices into a pancake and trick New Yorkers into thinking it’s delicious? Sounds like a conspiracy to me. Wish me luck. Anyway, Emily has now walked in on me blogging at my desk and it was kind of like I had been caught eating an entire chocolate cake by myself or shooting up heroin or something.
She was like “Are you blogging??”
Me: “Yes. And you can’t stop me.”
Confused yet Still Smiling Emily: “… I wasn’t trying to stop you.”
Me: “Good. Because if you did try, you would not succeed.”
[pause for effect.]
Still Confused and Still Smiling Emily: “What are you blogging about?”
Me: “Oh, just about how I’m like Wolverine but actually I’m not like Wolverine because I’m more like the guy who can turn into a magical big-lipped fish. Except I can’t turn into a fish.”
Sarcastically Distraught Emily: “I see… So, you can’t turn into a fish?”
Me: “No. But I can do a pretty good big-lipped fish impression. It’s … pretty magical.”
Sassy Emily: “Prove it.”
Me: :> (That’s the emoticon for “impressively magical and accurate big-lipped fish impression”)
Emily: “If you don’t put a picture of yourself doing that on your blog, I will be angry and I will stop talking to you. And I will set you on fire.”
Okay, so, she may not have actually said that last part, but that was definitely my interpretation of what she meant when she said, “You should put a picture of that on your blog.” (Her face is really what did all the talking.) At any rate, I don’t know if it would be a good idea to try to cram my first experience of suspiciously spicy fused pancakes, the realization that I am more like a fish than Wolverine, the demise of my friendship with Emily and being set on fire all into one day… So I’m posting the fishy picture:
If you look really closely, you can tell I’m not actually a magical big-lipped fish. I’m just pretending.
I know, it’s nowhere near good enough to be considered a superpower.