A purposed alternative to getting upset about it...

Since winding down my world famous wedding blog (My Name is On the Invite Too), I have developed writer's block. It is not for lack of trying. Believe me, dear, dear reader(s), I have tried. I took your advice and started to blog about the new Bachelor. The problem there was that Jake is so, SO, boring and the girls are so, SO, ridiculous, that I could not bring myself to blog this season (lets just say the Bachelor Franchise will always be infinitely better when the Bachelor prioritizes God somewhere after boozing with and macking down the Bachelorettes)(Sorry, God). I even flirted shamelessly with writing an unemployment blog. In the end, I thought that - no matter how cathartic that could be -  my time would be better served actually looking for a job.

As Tenacious D says "You cannot manufacture insperado" and that was exactly what I was doing here. I was pressing. I wanted to prove to people that I hadn't lost my blog fast ball - that the infinitely amusing wedding blog was not a one-off - that I was more Jason Reitman than Diablo Cody.

It was not until my wife (H) and I were driving to and from Indianapolis (3 times in 6 days) that it dawned on me - or, um, slapped me in the face. According to my wife, I tend to indulge myself a little bit too often in the way I see things - which, admittedly, is a not always congruent with the prevailing social mores.

It sounds a lot worse than it is, believe me.

Funnily, I thought when we got married that H would be the one to (gladly) listen to me and engage me as I stop the DVR during Real Housewives and attempt to hash out who is the most reprehensible housewife of them all (its Vicki); or whether Sammi Sweetheart was really at fault when Ronnie slipped and slided all over the Seaside Boardwalk to fight someone older than me; or let ramble on about how much I hate the Chicago bus system (to name a few examples).

I have never been more wrong...and it has been proven to me time and time again. I won't say H doesn't care - she does. But, after the 100th time of confirming that she is zoning me out as I discuss how ridiculous it is that a city as big as Chicago only has 4-lane Highways, I concluded that H just would rather I share some things with someone else...like you.