Shit. I'm coming up with a stand-up routine. Right now.
I hate this about my brain. It's a quarter after one in the morning, I'm tipsy, and I have to find a notebook RIGHT NOW to at least get reminders down so I can attempt to come back in the morning and remember the jokes.
But yeah. I have a couple of minutes.
I really, -REALLY- wish I could channel my creativity. It's always such a ping-pong affair; for five days, I will be ALL ABOUT MAKING MASKS. The sixth day, I am a dullard whose most creative thought is switching from one show on Netflix to another, unrelated show.
I need to write down everything even resembling a joke that my brain produces in the next few days, and maybe I can get fifteen minutes of stuff to swap out around town for the next couple of months.
Yep. In typical "Tim feels creative" fashion, I had to write another bit down a few minutes ago. This will probably happen the rest of the week, then disappear like Hulk Hogan after his racist sex tape.
Beeper told me to make sure my jokes were better than that one guy in season one of "Queer Eye". I agree that it's a pretty solid standard to try to meet.
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