My Return From Sabbatical
by singerz
I was on blog-sabbatical. What does that mean you ask? How can I take a sabbatical if I am not a rabbi? First of all, it’s debatable whether or not I am a rabbi. At least that girl I dated from Brooklyn, Chana-Sheindel-Lea-Rachel-Bracha-Sheindel (yes, two Sheindels) thinks I am a learned man of the Book. Capital ‘B’ in ‘Book’, thank you very much.
Speaking of Sheindel-squared, I miss her. Those long nights of awkward conversations about how many children we wanted to have (she wanted 16, I only wanted 12), those sensual moments when we would both reach for the prayer book and my finger would graze her gloved hand (yes, she always wore gloves, even inside the house- such a modest girl). I yearn for her (but don’t worry, my beloved readers, I never yearn in public, that’s disgusting).
NOTE: the above paragraph may or may not be simply one of the craziest things I have ever written. Thoughts?
What the hell was I writing about? Ah yes, sabbatical. Truthfully, I didn’t just have to write the “What the hell was I writing about” sentence, I could have looked up above and seen what I was writing about and then just continued. As a matter of fact, this entire paragraph is gratuitous bullshit. My bad. Life goes on.
Lately, I have been on leave from the Dump. And yet, Mink bothers me to write as often as I accidentally drop my phone in the toilet and then bring it in to Sprint telling them I don’t know what is wrong with it, and then they open it up, see the water damage sticker thingy, foil my clever plans, and I freaking never learn. The point is, leave me alone Mink, my phone has pee all over it and I have to buy a new one.
My sabbatical from the blog reminds me of the period of time after college and before my first job when I had 3 months with nothing to do. I was basically retired. Actually, not basically, but literally retired. The most exciting part of my day was when the mail arrived- I was like a dog waiting for the mailman at the front window. Including the barking. And the drooling, of course. I regularly ate early-bird specials at local restaurants and I got angry at those damn teenagers for driving too fast. I frequented the public library and talked back to the newspaper when I didn’t like what it said. That was the life. my friends, that was the life.
I was on blog-sabbatical. What does that mean you ask? How can I take a sabbatical if I am not a rabbi? First of all, it’s debatable whether or not I am a rabbi. At least that girl I dated from Brooklyn, Chana-Sheindel-Lea-Rachel-Bracha-Sheindel (yes, two Sheindels) thinks I am a learned man of the Book. Capital ‘B’ in ‘Book’, thank you very much.
Speaking of Sheindel-squared, I miss her. Those long nights of awkward conversations about how many children we wanted to have (she wanted 16, I only wanted 12), those sensual moments when we would both reach for the prayer book and my finger would graze her gloved hand (yes, she always wore gloves, even inside the house- such a modest girl). I yearn for her (but don’t worry, my beloved readers, I never yearn in public, that’s disgusting).
NOTE: the above paragraph may or may not be simply one of the craziest things I have ever written. Thoughts?
What the hell was I writing about? Ah yes, sabbatical. Truthfully, I didn’t just have to write the “What the hell was I writing about” sentence, I could have looked up above and seen what I was writing about and then just continued. As a matter of fact, this entire paragraph is gratuitous bullshit. My bad. Life goes on.
Lately, I have been on leave from the Dump. And yet, Mink bothers me to write as often as I accidentally drop my phone in the toilet and then bring it in to Sprint telling them I don’t know what is wrong with it, and then they open it up, see the water damage sticker thingy, foil my clever plans, and I freaking never learn. The point is, leave me alone Mink, my phone has pee all over it and I have to buy a new one.
My sabbatical from the blog reminds me of the period of time after college and before my first job when I had 3 months with nothing to do. I was basically retired. Actually, not basically, but literally retired. The most exciting part of my day was when the mail arrived- I was like a dog waiting for the mailman at the front window. Including the barking. And the drooling, of course. I regularly ate early-bird specials at local restaurants and I got angry at those damn teenagers for driving too fast. I frequented the public library and talked back to the newspaper when I didn’t like what it said. That was the life. my friends, that was the life.
posted by SINGERZ at 1:01 AM
3 Comments:
Rehab perhaps? Stay off the drugs son.
(a) there is nothing wrong with talking back to the newspaper when you don't like what it says. I talk back to the world when I don't like what it says (and then hope a "saved" person "saves" me)
(b) You are the guy who frequents the public library? Weirdo.
(c) heese
(d) I wonder why CRAWFORD didn't comment on your phone-in-moisture wiki like she did for that eric guy?
JG
This is the funniest thing I've read. Good job!
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