Category Archives: conversations with myself

Total nutjob

Mik, you’re cracked!

Cracked? My crack is showing, how embarrassing.

No! You’re mad, you’re cracked.

Now that’s a bit harsh, cracked, maybe a bit chipped.

What? No, you’re a few cards short of a full deck.

I always throw the jokers out.

Huh? The lights are on but nobody’s home.

Their home, they forgot to pay their electric bill.

Excuse me, dude you don’t have both oars in the water.

My arms are too short.

Argh, you are exasperating. I’m trying to say you don’t have all your corn flakes in one box.

I was looking for the prize.

Your elevator doesn’t quite make the top floor.

I usually walk.

You’re nuttier than a fruitcake.

Hmm I luvs me some fruitcake.

A few beers short of a six-pack

Who drank some of my beers.

Oh man you are crazy insane.

Why thanks for the diagnosis Doctor, the Serbians in the mail.

What?

Oh sorry, the Yugoslavian, no wait, the Czech, the Czech’s in the mail.

I’m leaving, I give up.

You give up, whoo hoo I won! I’d punched the air in victory if it wasn’t for this strait jacket. Hey where are you going?

Receding

Holy crap!

What?

My forehead is expanding.

Excuse me?

My forehead, it’s growing larger, look the expanse of skin is immense.

Dude, that’s your hair line receding. The way it is going it will soon recede so far back it will meet the bald spot on the top and BOOM! It’s all she wrote, welcome to the monastery Friar Tuck!

Ha ha, Friar Tuck had a ring of hair and a large bald spot.

Well you know what I meant, anyhoo, it comes with old age dude.

I suppose that explains the walker and the box of Depends in the closet.

Gotta be ready man.

This mirror is still filthy.

Stlyin’ my cramp

Arggghhh!

What?

My left leg is cramping, the calf muscle is bulging, hurts like a mother.

Is that all? You woke us up for that.

This shit is painful.

Bananas.

No really it hurts!

No, bananas, they are good for cramps, it’s the extra potassium.

Oh, okay hold on while I hobble off and get some.

Dude, what are you doing?

You said bananas are good for cramps.

I know, but you are supposed to eat them not rub them on your leg.

Well excuse me, I’m half awake.

Well, I was  half asleep and like to get the rest of me back to the land of slumber and please don’t wake the wife.

Dude are you taking your medication?

I’m taking someone’s medication.

Huh? Are you talking about those multi-colored pills from the night stand?

Yes.

They are my M & M’s.

A reflection

Dude, look at that guy’s face, his nose is a quarter size  too big for his face, or his face is slightly too small for his nose!

Hey wanker, it isn’t considered good form to comment on someone’s physical appearance. It is rude, obnoxious and impolite.

Ooh, listen to him. I was just making an observation.

A rather immature and nasty observation I might say.

I might add his ears are slightly wrongly adjusted.

What?

His ears, one is a tad higher than the other.

Everyone is like that! No one is exactly symmetrical you know, but stop criticizing him.

Why?

Why! Because it is inconsiderate and even worse, he may over hear you.

I doubt it.

Let’s hope not for your sakes.

Dude, if he can over hear what we are talking about it would be a miracle; I mean you’d have to have telepathic powers to listen in on our conversations.

All the same I would appreciate it if you shut that cake hole of yours before you get us both in trouble.

You need to grow a pair, preferably evenly proportioned and arranged.

Oh crap! He is wielding a sharp-looking pair of small scissors, be quiet will you.

I’m just trimming my nose hairs, stop panicking.

Dang, who smeared gunk on this mirror?

Actors Workshop: I’m a tree

“So how was the actor’s workshop?”

“Not bad, we did some method acting practice.”

“Really?’

“Yes, we had to become a forest.”

“A forest?”

“Yes, I had the lead role, I was the lead tree.”

“Lead tree?”

“Yes, I played the oldest tree in the forest.”

“So you stood on stage, your body the trunk of the tree, arms akimbo as the branches and fingers splayed as twigs.”

“Typical! You amateurs, that’s how you’d play it. We professionals have to go   deeper, we have to immerse ourselves into the character, develop a back-story, and work out the characters motivation.”

“You were a tree!”

“Exactly, I have to get into the mind of a tree,”

“A bloody tree!”

“Yes, I have to imagine the seedling falling to the soil, developing roots, growing  and fighting for survival as a sapling undergoing the elements and the squirrels and other animals that would do it harm. Only then when I am in the mind of the tree can I successfully take on the persona, become the character, be the tree.”

“Then you stood on stage, your body the trunk of the tree, arms akimbo as the branches and fingers splayed as twigs?”

“Pretty much yes.”

“Just stood there being a tree?”

“Well, until I got Dutch Elm disease and died and became a large stump in the field, then locals Billy-Bob and his younger brother Billy-Bob had to come and dynamite me and pull me out with ropes attached to their truck.”

“Awesome, what are you doing next week in your workshop?”

“Something about standing like a teapot and singing about being short and stout!”

To molder and crumble

My Moleskine notebook fills with inane thoughts, words and phrases, silly ideas and stories, eccentric characters, usually as I sit on the light rail or bus as I commute to and from work. Hopefully I won’t start spouting them out loud. On that day, I get off a different stop and check myself in!

Hey!

What?

Shouldn’t you put those crazy thoughts and inane scribblings away somewhere? Maybe filed in a dark corner of your mind to molder and crumble away forgotten?

Can’t do that, that area is overflowing, I have to release them somewhere.

If people see them they might think you’re insane.

That’s what the doctors say.

What doctors?

I don’t know, they never say, they just walk in bedecked in their white coats, scribbling on their clipboards, nodding heads and knowing looks, then leave again. Hey do me a favor?

Sure, what?

Loosen the straps they’re a bit tight.

Dr. Seuss I not

The slim, slam, slap, sloo…

What?

Mind your own it’s nothing to do with you.

Dr. Seuss you’re not.

The glim, glam, glap, glot…

Clever, funny, witty you are not.

See, now you’re doing it!

Ugh!

I be…

I be a poeta; a word slayer, a sooth sayer…

Excuse me?

What?

Are you reciting crap out of your Moleskine notebook again?

Maybe.

A “sooth sayer”, really?

Well, I’m all out of sooth and too shy to say.

I think you’re crazy.

What you’re a doctor now?

No, but come on don’t you think you’re crazy?

I don’t know I’m not a doctor either.

Lost things

You always find something you have lost in the last place you looked.

Well, er, yeah!

Although not for me, I keep on looking after I have found what I am looking for.

What?

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Getting recognized

Him: Do you ever worry about getting recognized?

Me: Sorry? When?

Him: On the bus, don’t you worry someone will recognize you as the author of your blog?

Me: No not really, I tend to get mistaken for Jack Black the actor.

Him: Really? Mmm, not seeing it. But seriously don’t you worry that someone on the bus will read your blog recognize themselves as a subject of one of your posts and get mad? You do have your photo at the tops of your blog.

Me: How would they know me, people on the bus are too busy thinking about getting to work, sleeping, reading to worry about me.

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