(From the former Sandra Creason.com)
An Introduction:
We all have a muse. Some are diligent and send us inspiration almost constantly, others are lazy and would rather eat Cheetos and watch The View than help us chisel through the dreaded writer's block.
My muse is a beautiful, delicate creature who flutters through my brain and whispers sweet nothings in my ear when I feel insecure in my artistic abilities.
Yea, gotcha again.
MEET ZED:
**Artist's Rendering**
As you can see, I've been cosmically and creatively screwed. Zed spends more hours in my closet than in my head; he stretches my shoes, he empties my fridge, and his beer farts could clear out an entire stadium.
Now, I'm not one to complain too much about what I have, but come on - exactly who did I piss off in a past life?
TAKE MY MUSE, PLEASE!
Alright, here's the deal.
We could all use a change, right? I propose that someone (ANYONE!) out there that needs a break from their muse exchange with me. We'll call it a "relocation program."
Now, before you go asking why, if Zed's so horrible, am I trying to pawn him off on someone else, well - he's not SO bad. He helps keep me on my diets because he makes all the fatty foods disappear. Although, it doesn't do me any good, because I'm getting smaller and he's making my clothes bigger, so now I have so many safety pins in my clothes I look like I should be in a Michael Jackson video - no worries though, it'll catch on - you'll see. At any rate, the vict- er, recipient of Zed will be thrilled to know that chasing him around the neighborhood to save a pair of pumps burns mad calories.
If you're a guy - no worries, he can fart and scratch himself watching a football game with the best of them.
Any takers?
Anyone?
Drats, foiled again.
An Introduction:
We all have a muse. Some are diligent and send us inspiration almost constantly, others are lazy and would rather eat Cheetos and watch The View than help us chisel through the dreaded writer's block.
My muse is a beautiful, delicate creature who flutters through my brain and whispers sweet nothings in my ear when I feel insecure in my artistic abilities.
Yea, gotcha again.
MEET ZED:
**Artist's Rendering**
As you can see, I've been cosmically and creatively screwed. Zed spends more hours in my closet than in my head; he stretches my shoes, he empties my fridge, and his beer farts could clear out an entire stadium.
Now, I'm not one to complain too much about what I have, but come on - exactly who did I piss off in a past life?
TAKE MY MUSE, PLEASE!
Alright, here's the deal.
We could all use a change, right? I propose that someone (ANYONE!) out there that needs a break from their muse exchange with me. We'll call it a "relocation program."
Now, before you go asking why, if Zed's so horrible, am I trying to pawn him off on someone else, well - he's not SO bad. He helps keep me on my diets because he makes all the fatty foods disappear. Although, it doesn't do me any good, because I'm getting smaller and he's making my clothes bigger, so now I have so many safety pins in my clothes I look like I should be in a Michael Jackson video - no worries though, it'll catch on - you'll see. At any rate, the vict- er, recipient of Zed will be thrilled to know that chasing him around the neighborhood to save a pair of pumps burns mad calories.
If you're a guy - no worries, he can fart and scratch himself watching a football game with the best of them.
Any takers?
Anyone?
Drats, foiled again.
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