HI, THANKS FOR WAITING. HAVE YOU HAD TIME TO DECIDE?

First off, my apologies for the time off between blog entries. I'd like to say that it will never happen again, but I won't. Because it will.

But at least this time I have a good excuse. I was writing sketches.

OK, it's not a good excuse, but it is an excuse, and I'm using it.

You see, my sketch group The Habit is doing a new show next month, and we all decided to come to our meeting on Sunday with at least 3 new sketches each.
You may find this difficult to believe, but I haven't always been the bastion of literary excellence that you all know and tolerate.
No, there was a time when I would write one sketch a year and consider it a job well done. That time has passed.
I can say that with some confidence, because yesterday morning, when I was 3 sketches short of where I needed to be for our six o'clock meeting, I figured it out.
That is to say, I have a rough idea of what it's like to actually do the work that I've been telling people that I do for the last seven years. Quite fulfilling. Now I know why Jeff is so pompous and cocksure all the time. To be fair, he has every right to love himself and treat everyone around him like filth, because hey, he signs the checks.
Not to infer that we are actually getting paid for all of this, but if we did, I think it's safe to say, that Jeff, whether he needed to or not, would write his name on my check.

He's that good.

Anyway, back to me. I wrote my 3 sketches, using my time-tested "just throw some shit together so I don't get in trouble" method and I came upon a startling realization.

They were awesome.

They were pretty good.

They were fair.

And Jeff wrote half of the good one.

But still, I worked in my Mars Rover joke, and it went over quite well at the meeting.

Ah, the meeting. We concluded that we would take a few days to ruminate on the various undertakings, before meeting again on Thursday, which incidentally was named for the Norse God of Thunder, to decide which of all of these opi (opuses?) would be deemed good enough to use in our production.

Here comes the tricky part. The actual picking of the sketches. We have foolishly chosen democracy as our model for solving problems like these, unless of course if there is a tie, in which case it becomes a sketch-tatorship.

But here's my problem. When we reassemble three days from now, there is only one rule we must adhere to in regard to the pieces we have submitted.

We cannot vote for our own sketches.

Now what do I do? Trust these simpletons to recognize the genius inherent in my collective works? Half of them don't even realize they've just been insulted.

What sick, twisted mind conceived of this ghastly unethical system? More importantly, what reality TV show did he steal it from?

I guess we'll never know.
Unless I call and ask him.
Which I won't.
Because I don't want to play his little games.

In other news, I apologized to my mother and she assured me that if I kept my nose clean and played my cards right, then she would strongly consider the option to not stop loving me. Whew.

Thanks America, you've been great.


EDITOR'S NOTE: Just to clear up any confusion, the plural form of opus is, in fact, opuses. And also, America has been great, just not recently.
(Zing! Take that, land of my birth!)