Tuesday, November 14, 2006

What I Don't Know...

I haven’t been updating my blog the past days as I really feel I have nothing to say. It scares me to think that at the tender age of 39 I may be talked and typed out, my head void of the fabulous thoughts and ideas that are usually knocking on the windows of my mind begging to be set free. It is just a bunch of empty space in need of major redecorating.

Perhaps an idea for a new TV show… My Brain, Your Brain. Of course my brain is more like a 5 star vacation at the Four Seasons in Singapore where I don’t really have to do anything but remember to breathe in and out and drink the occasional Diet Coke for nourishment. With my luck I would have to spend some time with the brain of someone that would require real work which might even result in dirt under the cerebral fingernails and I just had a mental manicure. Perhaps I should just stay in my luxury suite wrapped in the soft and squishy bathrobe of silence.

But then I realized so many people without any imagination or anything to say manage to do an enormous amount of mindless pontificating and I thought that if they can do it, I can too. After all, since when do I need to make sense or have something worthwhile to discuss to feel like I have something to say? I suddenly feel like I have something in common with most of the CNN newscasters… Just make stuff up to eat up the airtime in a futile attempt to entertain the tired and huddles masses gathered around their TV screens like moths to the flame… I shouldn’t be so harsh on CNN, I love infotainment and they do it all so well. If it wasn’t for them, I would know nothing about Anna Nicole’s woes. Now there is a brain I would like to go spelunking in for just a few short minutes. Of course, I would have to be careful not to get lost in such a cavernous space. I wonder what it is like to think in an echo. I find it somewhat scary that I simply have no idea. And then I wondered what else I don’t know and suddenly it occurred to me…

I have no idea how much my penis and testicles weigh. What if I ever needed to send them to a third world country like Malawi, for example? What would it cost me? What if I wanted to sell them at the village market as one is wont to do? How is it possible I have lived my entire life without this knowledge? Suddenly I feel as if I don’t even know my body, as though we are strangers who merely cohabitate. I guess I need to bond more with my body. Well, there was only one thing to do, find out what all the averages were, do my own measurements and then compare information and come to some educated conclusions and then share my findings with the rest of the world.

Can you believe that with all the information on the internet, I was unable to find any information about how much a penis weighs? Oh, I found a lot of sites about penile weight lifting, a sport in which I will gracefully decline to take part. I don’t get the point. It just seems like a whole bunch of pain to me. I tried to find other sports to keep my nether regions otherwise engaged and in shape, but there doesn’t seem to be any other sports out there. Perhaps a gap in the market. A new business opportunity. I am imagining the possibilities as I type. I must jot that down on my “to-do” list and underline it several times, making it a top priority. Golly, I’ll even highlight it in bright yellow. Suddenly I feel like I have a direction. My life now feels somewhat meaningful in a useless sort of way.

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