Honey Butter Sandwiches: True Confessions of a Witness to the Great Elmo Massacre of 2006

The beginning of the week is hard for me.

After not being as productive as I should have been on the weekend, I always feel like whatever I do the next week has to be legendary to make up for it. So, when I am trying to write something on here that could count as legen- (wait for it!) ….-dary, all I can think of is stuff like “cake is awesome” and “one time I saw a couple decapitated Elmo heads on the side of the freeway going home after a ZOEgirl concert.”

Eventually, I just end up hiding in a corner zonked out from Xanax and watching Celebrity Apprentice for six hours straight because it “helps me think” but really it’s because I want to forget about my responsibilities.

That approach actually works pretty well until I start yelling at the contestants which is when I imagine my Soulmate walking in and saying “Oh, there you are!  What are you doing?”  And I would have to look up at him from my corner, my face and hands covered in honey because I just ate a honey and butter sandwich and I say “LEAVE ME ALONE!!!  I’M WATCHING MY PROGRAMS!!!!!” Then Soulmate says “What’s on your face?”  And I’m like “IT’S HONEY! STOP ACTING LIKE YOU’VE NEVER HAD HONEY ON YOUR FACE BEFORE!!!”  And Soulmate is like “What?” And I’m all “DON’T JUDGE ME!”  And then I crawl away to the other corner, clutching my honey and calling it my precioussssssss.

Then it’s suddenly almost Tuesday and I haven’t accomplished anything aside from making myself really sticky and totally disillusioned with any celebrity ever.  At some point I’m like, “You know what… I just have to do it.  I’m going to sit down and write and see what comes out.  No pressure. Let’s wash all the honey off these fingers and just start typing.”

And that’s how posts like this happen.

I have no qualms about taking the night off and basking in my nothingness. I will still wake up early and p90x it up tomorrow. But for now, I choose to watch Clay Aiken go down in flames in Trump’s boardroom and call it a night.

SIDENOTE: Honey + butter + bread = honey butter sandwiches. You read that right. It’s like all the best parts of every food ever, combined into one sandwich. If you could put happiness on bread and eat it, that’s what eating a honey and butter sandwich would be like.

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