I used to blog because I had something to write...now I write because I feel like blogging. This is problematic. So instead of saying a whole lot of nothing, I decided to stall that nonsense by drawing this endearingly disgusting old man laughing his dentures right out of his face.
Not-so-fun fact: When I was in seventh grade, I wrote a novel. Well, seven chapters of a novel. Due to the reverse culture shock of returning to home life from college life, I will be attempting to salvage any potential from those thirty-some pages and generate something from it. Maybe. I will also try to make money on the side and maintain some of the sparse intellect I absorbed from the clever collegiate folks that used to surround me.
Can you tell it's been an awkward transition?
My parents never seemed big on the home video thing, but my sister and I came across a single VHS worth mentioning. Spoiler: it includes a fairy, a lot of breathy, high-pitched singing, and no pants. (No, it is not Britney Spears. It's also not one of those wanna-be feature films by whoever owns Barbie.)
While my little brother was being born, my sisters and I decided to make a surprise homecoming video for my mom when she came back from the hospital. So, naturally, we acted out "Little Bunny Foo Foo." Because, really, what could be more appropriate than an anti-climactic, moral-free children's rhyme about rodents bopping one another on the head?
(Side note: The really concerning thing about "Little Bunny Foo Foo" is that the Good Fairy is reprimanding a rabbit for hitting a mouse. She obviously has her priorities in order. Bring on the nukes, gulp down your Big Macs, and attack one another with religion...but for the love of all things bright and beautiful, do NOT bop those field mice on the head.)
It's a good thing home videos usually stay within the home, because I, as narrator and director of the production, also claimed to have written "Little Bunny Foo Foo." If that claim were to reach the public, there would be two major repercussions:
1) I might get sued or made to pay a massive fine or something. Well, if we sold the home video for a profit. And now that I think about it, there's some potential there.
2) I would never be respected as a writer, in any way, for the remainder of eternity. Not that there's really a chance for me anyway.
So I think I'll leave "Little Bunny Foo Foo" in the basement to gather some more dust.