30 Day Writing Challenge: Part Toru

Yo. Hola. Kia Ora. *Does douche-y head nod* Sup?

I’ve survived 2 days of writing prompts towards blogs. Today has been filled with me trying to entertain my lady partner’s mini-me AKA Spawn AKA her personal Short-Round AKA her child. Though I have a lul here and thought I’d quickly try to crank out another blog post. Again, if anyone else wants to give this thing a go you can here: http://30daychallengearchive.tumblr.com/post/832610035/writing-prompt-30-day-challenge

So, what does day 3 have in store for me:

Day 3 —Write about the worst time you’ve ever put your foot in your mouth.

Photo on 5-6-17 at 2.29 PM

Never. I’m way too fat for that. Maybe I need to invest in some DDP Yoga or …. Eh, Booze Yoga seems more my pace. That picture is legit the extent of my flexible prowess. It’s pathetic.

Oh wait, you mean the whole, “Saying something stupid to the point where you can’t get out of it?”

That’s probably about 90% of what I say, but the sad reality is I have the memory of a goldfish with dementia and literally can’t think of a specific time. Honestly, I strive hard to not dwell on my mistakes, because I’m sure there are plenty. I’m a bit of ditz, however, all of those weird ditzy and stupid moments have lead me to have a fairly quirky life that I’m proud of. All of my life has lead me to becoming an ordained minister, doing a wedding, trying out a pro wrestling school, working a series of odd jobs, meeting a bunch of lucha libre wrestlers on the other side of the country, and leaving my country all together to be on the other side of the world. I feel contesting to, “Putting my foot in mouth” as a sign of me regretting the things I’ve done, and I don’t. Everything I’ve done, whether it be stupid or not has added to this crazy narrative I’ve constructed my life with and I hope it gets weirder and more interesting as it goes on. I wanna lay in my deathbed or death hammock on some beach somewhere getting served Whiskey and Coke by robots muttering, “My life was one weird and wonderful adventure. Cheers!” Then slam the drink and croak. Hopefully, a whale will jump out from the ocean as a Michael Jackson ballad plays à la Free Willy style in the background the exact moment I kick it. You can use this blog post as a formal request to have that song playing on my funeral. Keeping it lite even as a corpse. So, I’m sticking with my, “Dad Joke” quality response as an answer. Keep it quirky weirdos.



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