OK I'm Getting Serious, No One.

I have had this blog for about 2 years.
I barely post on it.
Well that all changes today.

I want to be a writer and I never write.
I want to do something creative and I never create.

I'm sick of it. I'm sick of making excuses for myself. I'm sick of allowing myself to loaf.
I want to be productive and I'm going to produce.
If I want something made, I've got to make.

Ohhh I am resisting the urge to turn this from a manifesto to a drawn out poop metaphor....

RESISTED.
MANIFESTO TIME.

From this day forward I'm going to write on this blog every day. I'm going to say things that matter and that make others feel something.

This is going to be my workspace where I experiment and hopefully improve my writing and comedy and all of it.

OK I HAVE TO GO TO CLASS NOW.
It's finals week right now just so you know.
Instead of studying I'm writing manifestos on my blog.
That should tell you why I need to be funny.
I have no academic future.

WHOA! It was fucking Thanksgiving today!

So today was Thanksgiving.
It was great.
Love the food. Love the fam. Love it.

But today was weird.
Good weird but still weird.

Today I played Cards Against Humanity while drunk... with my mom...

That's... really weird.

So here are some preliminary facts about me so that you truly understand the feelings that today evoked in me.

My mom and I get along fine. She scares me a little but she's my mom and I think that's normal.
But we don't talk a super lot. We're just people who cohabitated for a little while and then I moved out and I call her now and again and I move back into her house when I'm in town and she spends money on me.

Like we love each other don't get me wrong.
But we aren't the fucking Gilmore Girls, Ok?

ok.
It was my turn to pick the winner and I chose "dick fingers" and who takes the card. MY MOTHER.
What?

How do you go from "my mom doesn't know my major" to "my mom and I now share an inside joke and that joke is 'dick fingers'"?

That's not real life.

Anyway later on my aunt was choosing the winner and she picked "double penetration" and of course it was me and everyone at the table was like "omg Morgan?" and my mom said "wow..." and I said "are you proud?" and she said "kind of"

So basically this was a long story to explain to everyone why I am the way I am.
Mostly I'd blame it on dick fingers, double penetration and similar incidents.

Don't play this game with your parents unless you're ready for it.
Or do.
It might work out super well.


PS I had to tell my mom what 'queefing' was so prepare yourself motherfuckers because this game isn't messing around.

So this is me doing horrible stand up (on purpose) and then a strip tease.
I'm pretty confident no one looks at this blog so I have little to no trouble posting it.

SO CHECK IT OUT, STRANGERS.

Let's Catch Up, Internet!

WOWIE WOW WOW.

It has been a long time, internet.
Two years.
Jeez.
Where does the time go?

First off, how have you been?
Great!
What have you been up to?
Neat!
Got any significant others now?
Yeah? He was a tool. I never liked him.
Did your boobs grow in ok?
Me neither, don't worry about it.

Me?
Well I'm in college now! Yeah! Indiana University!
I agree, It's pretty mediocre.
Last time we talked I was only 17. WOW.
I'm 19 now. Everything is so different!
No, I'm still pretty obsessive. And I'm still a vegetarian.
I guess I'm still pretty similar...
I have Netflix now! Well... I stole my friend's password... so
I don't like Carrie Underwood as much any more!
So that's different.

Most importantly I'd still like to be on SNL one day. I'm in two Improv groups on IU's campus which is an actual step towards that dream.

Wow, it has been great catching up.
I really missed you, internet.
I can tell by my 4 pageviews today that you really missed me too.
Promise me we'll actually keep in touch ok?
I'll call you tomorrow.
Or at least text you.
Facebook message like... at the very least.
Do you still have that Earthlink account?

You Know You Watch Too Much TV If....

1.       You have more than 6 commercial jingles memorized.

2.       You make references to television that hasn’t been popular in 30 years.

3.       You watch Food Network with no intention of cooking, ever.

4.       You care about the love lives of the Golden Girls.

5.       You have television theme songs on your Ipod.

6.       You begin to imagine yourself as the main character of a sitcom.

7.       You are paranoid of ridiculous, Three’s Company-esque mix-ups that might lead to someone (showing up to a serious event dressed in some sort of goofy costume, or at an unreasonably late time, or an entirely different location), all of which completely ruin your chance of (getting married, getting a new job, going out with a person you like), but eventually will be fixed by some extraordinary act of dorkiness.

8.       You cry when fictional relationships end.

9.       You can accurately predict the entire plot of a current sitcom within the first 5 minutes because you’ve seen that episode of (friends, happy days, Sanford and son, will and grace, I Love Lucy, ect.)

10.   In situations of boredom you might explain to someone the plot of your favorite episode of I Love Lucy.

11.   You don’t watch fat-husband-skinny-wife shows.

12.   You LOVE it when people in sitcoms reference other sitcoms because you always get the reference.

13.   People ask “So what are you up to this summer?” and you scramble to think of something to say besides “Watching Ellen reruns.”

14.   You turn down plans because your favorite episode of a show is on that day.

15.   You read other “you know if you are…” lists and think “Hmm, that was on an episode of…”

16.   You will watch a marathon of almost anything just because there is a marathon.

17.   You schedule TV “events” in your phone.

18.   You tell stories about watching TV.

19.   You often tell the plots of sitcoms like anecdotes of your friends and then wonder why other people think that’s weird.

20.   You discuss the future events of TV and use phrases such as “That just doesn’t seem like something Leslie would do…”, “Can’t you see this plot line setting up!?”, or “Well it depends who’s gonna write that episode…”

21.   You talk to the TV and expect an answer.

22.   You know the names of the writers of your favorite shows.

23.   You judge people by the TV they watch.

EXAMPLE: “Hmph, Glee, I knew it.”

24.   When you discover a new show you must tell everyone, and you are mad when they don’t care.

25.   You can’t finish your list because an episode of Cheers is coming on.

HEAT

Well I was gonna go the “hit it and quit it” blogging route. This is where I just blog the one time then leave the Internet  begging for more without ever giving it up, but after the overwhelming response to my first blog I just couldn’t let my adoring fans down.

So, my air conditioning is broken. It sucks. My house is hotter than your bathroom the Wednesday after Taco Tuesday[1]. Right now I’m really afraid for my life. Tempers have been raging all day. Adding heat to the mixture is like adding beer and illegal fireworks to a hillbilly fourth of July, or adding cocaine and a highly publicized interview to an already unstable Charlie Sheen, or adding a cell phone and a Twitter account to a horny Anthony Weiner[2]. It’s only a matter of time before someone busts and posts a picture of their junk on Twitter or claims to be made of tiger blood or sets themselves on fire. My goal now is to stay out of the way until the air comes back on so that I don’t face the fiery wrath of an angry parent. I’m an extremely fragile person, at least when it comes to parents yelling at me. If I am forced to face said wrath of fire I might just crumble up and die of shame, the way we all wish Sarah Palin would[3].

Even my dogs are feeling the heat. Instead of happily sniffing/ licking each other’s butts they are squeaking their chew toys and staring intensely into each other’s eyes in a weird canine showdown. I don’t really know what happening, but like my parents, I fully intend to avoid my dogs. When one of them turns into Cujo and eats the other I plan to be safely in my room, I even hid a comically large T-bone steak in my brother’s room to ensure he will be eaten before I am[4].

So basically it’s just me sweating alone in my bedroom watching a Golden Girls marathon waiting to die of heat exhaustion or be slaughtered in a family member’s murderous rage. Sofia just made a feisty comment about Blanche being a whore. Hahaha, it’s so true.

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[1] Shameless poop joke? Check.

[2] I couldn’t decide which one to use so I used them all.

[3] BOOM! Wow I just really blasted Sarah Palin; I hope she doesn’t read my blog.

[4] This is a lie.

Pilot Blog!

Hello!
My name is Morgan and I will be blogging for you[1]. I am writing this blog because I hope to one day be on Saturday Night Live and I want to see if I can achieve a mediocre level of Internet fame first. This will be a blog about whatever I deign to write about. So if you have a problem with anything I write or you think I'm not funny or you think I'm ugly or you think I'm stupid or I offend you or you don't think I deserve to live or you think that I might be the mother of your children[2] or anything remotely related please, please, please don't tell me about it. Stop reading my blog, tell other people I suck, buy add space in the New York Times[3] denouncing my name, create a psychotic hate-wall of my face, get Google Alerts on me so you can cheer whenever I get slammed[4], but for the love of God don't email me about it[5]. I will just get mad at you. I barely know you and I don't want to have a negative opinion of you based on the Internet because, come on, it’s the Internet[6]. So, as the old adage goes, if you don’t have something nice to say, leave the blogger alone[7].  

As previously stated, I want to be a writer or performer on SNL one day. Tina Fey is my idol[8]. I will try to write with good grammar but I'm from the area of the suburbs where it's cool to sound like you haven't been taught basic grammar rules, so imma[9] do what i do, diggit? I will also try to write accurately about whatever it is I write about, but I think I have undiagnosed ADHD so sometimes I'll just stop reading a source of information before I've really finished reading all the information. It's really a problem. Another potential problem with making my blog the sole source of your world news is that my only news sources are my local paper[10], Weekend Update, and The Daily Show with John Stewart. I guess sometimes Twitter, if you count Obama’s tweets as news[11]. If you do choose to read this blog I would very much encourage you to make it your sole source of information about anything, even clog dancing[12], because my words being your source of information would make me feel all powerful, which is a feeling I rarely feel as a 17 year old. I won't lie to you. Trust me.

Did that last sentence creep you out a little bit? I freaked myself out a little bit while writing it.
I think this blog is pretty coherent for being written at one in the morning, so imma call it a night.
Goodnight Internet. You give me wings.

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[1] You can't tell because the internet doesn’t have a "Hesitation" button but I stared at my computer for at least 5 minutes before writing the phrase "for you".

[2] Stop calling, Martin.

[3] Or your local paper if you're cheap.

[4] It’s not the comedy rule of three but its close.

[5]snltorbust@aol.com

[6] There are many an embarrassing fan letters written by me out on the Internet and I wouldn’t want you to judge me based solely on those.

[7] This sentence used to say “If you don’t have anything nice to say, shut the f%$# up” but I was told by my father and only loyal blog reader, that I wasn’t allowed to cuss until I was 18.

[8] Before you ask, no, it’s not healthy.

[9] My computer highlighted the word “Imma” as misspelled not because it isn’t a word, but because it wasn’t capitalized.

[10] “Suck it, I do read the paper!” Liz Lemon, Season 1 of 30 Rock.

[11] I follow Obama on Twitter along with Charlie Sheen and Chelsea Handler. I also consider their tweets news.

[12] If there’s one thing in this world I know about, its clog dancing.