I couldn’t think of a decent blog topic to save my life so I decided to reach out to my readers on Facebook for some topic ideas. They’ve given me either a topic or a sentence and in return, I promised a paragraph. So, in order of the request, here it goes:
People who claim to have always been a huge fan of someone, only after they die: To this, I can only plead guilty. I generally don’t claim to have loved someone I actually hated, but I have definitely exaggerated my fandom in the event of someone’s death. Case in point: Amy Winehouse. I could be seen attempting to make the throaty sounds in “Rehab” when it first came out, but it wasn’t until her untimely entrance into the “27 Club” that I delved into her complete works and realized that I did, indeed, love her. I just didn’t know until she was gone. Of course, when caught listening to her discography I would absolutely get defensive and claim to have loved her all along. In reality, these people fall off our radars if they’re not getting air play. It’s just the way it is. When they die and the DJs of our lives remind us of their excellence, it’s only natural that we’d start to listen to the otherwise unknown tracks. And then lie about it and pretend we’ve loved them all along so that others feel inferior.
Adam Levine is also a drummer, and I had previously stated that drummers are notoriously ugly: Obviously, he is the exception and not the rule. Obviously I don’t know every drummer in the world, and I’m sure there are attractive ones out there (Zac Hanson). However, I can only go by what I see on various rock Biopics (because TV never lies) and they tell me that you shove the ugly ones behind a drum set. There must be a reason Adam traded in the bulky set to shove those sexy hip bones in front of our faces and behind only a microphone stand. I’m choosing to believe that reason is to follow my “drummers are ugly” rule and not his beautiful and sexy voice.
And now, to finish a paragraph where the topic sentence has been provided for me:
It has been seven years since that foul stench had crossed my nose. I mean, I had smelled skunk since but never with that intensity and longevity. Here I was, trapped in my car at the end of the driveway in front of my house and only an invisible skunk to blame. My nephew was terrified in the backseat, not quite understanding what a skunk was but definitely understanding that Auntie was NOT going to get out and encounter it. We cut our losses and made a run for it, screaming and hoping to stay out of the way of that foul stream. That skunk lived under my porch for months, surrounding my house with a constant sheen of stench and never actually revealing itself. To this day, my nephew has a sore spot for “kunks”. Don’t we all?
I apologize for the lack of imagination in this post, but I wanted to get something up here to fill the gaps between when I do interesting things with my life. That being said, readers, you may want to prepare yourselves for more filler. 😐