Friday, January 31, 2014

An Insecure Writer

Hello, I'm Chicken.  I'm an insecure writer.
(Hello Chicken)
Oh, I do fine in a casual setting.  I write in a conversational tone that some people  seem to enjoy.  I'm good at keeping things light and breezy.  I'm a literary tropical oasis.  
Welcome to my blog, would you like a frozen beverage?
When a more somber tone is required, however, I falter.  Without humor to fall back on, I start to overthink every  comma and hyphen.   I agonize over word choice.  I am almost never happy with the final result.  Maybe you can't tell, but I'm  doing it now.  I've looked up four words in the last five minutes. I'm freaking  out because there's a red line under overthink.  We all know what red lines mean.  They mean you can't spell worth a tinker's damn.  I'm almost sure it is overthink.  Isn't it?  Excuse me while I hyperventilate.
I resolve to become a more competent writer this year.  I've purchased a copy of AP Stylebook and I might even open it.  On a side note, I think AP Stylebook might be trending as they now sell sexy AP Style t-shirts.  I might order one of those, too.
I found this quiz site online.  If you are insecure like me you might benefit from testing your knowledge. There are 18 quizzes based on the AP Stylebook.  How will you do?  Are you unbeatable?
Chicken out

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

If You Give a Chicken a Glass of Wine

If you give a Chicken a glass of wine she will want a cigarette to go with it.

You will point out that smoking is not healthy for man nor fowl. She will agree with you and thank you for the reminder. She'll have another glass of wine instead.

Ten minutes later she will ask you to drive to the store for munchies.  She will load up your arms with three kinds of dip, potato chips, corn chips, Doritos and cheese curls.  Just in case, she'll throw in another bottle of Chardonnay.  Then she will ask the clerk for some cigarettes.  Chickens are impulsive, devious creatures. You know that.  What were you thinking?

On the way home the song "Don't Stop Believin'" circa 1981 will come on your radio and she will yell, "This is my FAVORITE song!!".  She will roll down your windows, turn up the volume and sing along even though she only knows the first line and the chorus.  That second glass of wine is starting to kick in.  She will stick her head out of your sky roof and yell, with no particular connection but much passion, "I love you Bruce!!!".

When she comes back inside the car her hair will look like it did in 1981.

Her hair will remind her of blue eye shadow and cute boys.

And she will want some.

At the next stop light she will notice a convertible full of cute boys.  She will have her head out of the sun roof, just about to invite them back to your place, when you will pull her back down and remind her firmly that she is no longer 18.  Thank God for you.

This will, however, remind her that once she was 18, and she will want to go to look at your old high school yearbook.  There, among the corn chips, the dip and the second bottle of Chardonnay, she will be hit by a tsunami of nostalgia.  She might weep a little.  She will want to get dressed up in old prom dresses.

Once you are both dressed in old prom dresses and blue eye shadow, she will want to take a picture.  While you load her selfie onto her Facebook page, she will decide that she NEEDS to hear "Stairway to Heaven", her prom song, and will search frantically through all of your old cassettes. She'll forget about "Stairway to Heaven" when she comes across "Jesse's Girl".  She'll once again proclaim, "This is my FAVORITE song" while singing loudly and out of tune, with traces of orange cheese curl powder around her mouth.

Not pretty.  And you've been patient.  You will suggest watching your DVD of  "Flashdance".  Chicken will be all for it, but first, she will need to rip up one of your old sweatshirts.

And chances are, if you give her a sweatshirt and watch Flashdance, she is going to ask for another glass of wine.

Chicken out

This is not Chicken.  It might be Chicken's hair in 1981, though.

(revised from 2011 post:  If you give a Chicken a glass of chardonnay)