I’m on a lunch break for a day long workshop “Putting you passion into print.” If I can deconstruct what I could write a book about and how to sell the fucker, maybe I could answer the question about whether I should ever jump on stage.
Not that i actually jump on stage, or move that much for that matter.
But, comedy could be history for awhile, so I guess that’s not history but hiatus. I gotta fucking write rather than just rubbing my intellectual clit, as it were, and maybe get other folks to read my bullshit.
Working title — Pat and leopard print panties.
I say “Yes!” Do it ! Yes !!!!
well your parachute will be rainbow coloured in keeping with your hippy roots
and you have got family hangups as you seem to need to express them rather than your own experiences
as for the leopard skin panties i do wish you would learn animanls as fashion are a no no
anyroad you write it ill read it so that makes at least 4 of us
moi moi n double moi
dave
Thanks guys. For the love and support, dvae, for today only I’ll pretend your not a contrary motherfucker, who’s likely mildly retarded.
I haven’t noticed that I don’t write about my own experiences. I thought this was my life. Thanks for the correction.
I’ll autograph it to both of you.
The new title, after the end of the workshop, “Burying my mom in leopard skin panties.”