Hey, Captain Demando: Shut it.

I’ve been told my time between blog posts is too long.

In the last week, I’ve gotten several emails, IMs, and the odd (ahem, Kevin) blog comment from people who seem to have a more than a passing interest in the goings on of my life, and frankly, it’s a little creepy. An inordinate number of people want to know the latest on my job, my car, my health, and my hobbies. I’m flattered, of course, that people actually go out of their way to care about these things, but I’m also beginning to wonder KEVIN if these people have lives of their own to care about KEVIN and I am impressed that said people would be so demanding of a person to contribute to a blog more often when they themselves do not put forth a similar effort KEVIN. Especially when such people KEVIN do not leave a single comment on my blog, ever, KEVIN until they suddenly decide that the comedy factory’s not hitting its hilarity quota and get all bratty and insistent about it KEVIN without even saying, “Hey, I like your blog. I read it regularly. Good work and all,” and skip straight to being a demanding demander with comments like, “Get with the funny.” Hey, Captain Demando: Shut it.

My less-than-delicate response to such comments appears to have guilted said commenters into creating their own blog, wherein apparently the first order of business is to issue me a Blog Challenge Smack-Down. (Well, and also to strive desperately to be as cool and funny as me, and fail.) I don’t really know what that means, except that I think I’m supposed to post more often.

In all honesty, I’ve just been busy. And also a little too lazy to mold my most recent experiences into a cohesive comedic structure, but mostly busy. I know I’ve neglected the blog a bit, and I owe my faithful readers a more regular blogging schedule. I promise I’ve got heaps of interesting things to talk to you about, but they haven’t quite made their way into my word processor yet. Patience, children.

For the teeming masses who are on the edges of their seats wondering about my life and its every little detail, I offer you a quick glimpse at my daily morning routine, and hope it is enough to stave off the gnawing hunger for more morsels from Meldraw Land:

4:30 am: Groggily open eyes to see a giant cat face, two inches from my nose. Shut eyes tight, hoping cat will go away. Hear an extremely loud MROWR in left ear. Push cat off the side of bed and smile after hearing the resulting thud. Go back to sleep.

5:50 am: Radio alarm goes off. Do not wake up, but instead begin to dream about the morning deejays laughing self-importantly at their own jokes while riding a carousel and knitting a scarf made out of onions.

6:00 am: Cell phone alarm goes off, in the kitchen. Must drag ass out of bed to shut it off. Know own tendencies well enough to know that I will soon need to install a third alarm elsewhere in the apartment.

6:05 am: Shuffle over to coffee maker, eyes still closed. Push lots of buttons, hoping caffeine will come out somewhere, and stumble blindly into the shower.

6:20 am: Stand in front of closet. Wonder what to wear.

6:25 am: Continue to stand. Continue to wonder. Look down at cat, who meows loudly for no reason. You have plenty of food. Go away.

6:30 am: Stare into closet without really seeing. Begin to ponder the effects of synthetic dyes on the cotton industry. Blink. Give up on clothes and go back to the kitchen to set up caffeine IV drip. Ignore meowing feline.

6:35 am: Retreat to bathroom for hair-drying and make-upping. Cast half-hearted glance into closet. Wonder how it’s possible to not have anything to wear, and yet consistently run out of hangers.

6:50 am: Look at clock suddenly, in a panic. Throw an English muffin into the toaster and peer into empty refrigerator, looking for lunchy foods to bring to work. Wonder if half a flour tortilla, four baby carrots, and a box of baking soda constitutes a well-balanced meal. Shoot a warning look to the Cat That Won’t Shut The Hell Up.

7:00 am: Turn on the Today Show and putter around the apartment, still unwilling to commit to an outfit. Glance at clock and finally settle on something—anything—because my workplace has a strict No Shirt, No Shoes, No Insurance policy. Decide that enough caffeine has not been consumed in order to deal with Katie Couric. Turn off Today Show.

7:10 am: Write the phone number for the Humane Society in large red letters on a Post-It note and stick it to the cat’s food dish.

7:15 am: Grab work bag, gym bag, travel mug, wool coat, long scarf, purse, keys, and cell phone. Momentarily consider life as a Sherpa. See cat staring pathetically. Sigh, drop bags, and give cat a very squeezy hug and kiss. Spit out cat hair. Leave.

7:20 am: Drive to work. Shiver the whole way.

7:30 am: Arrive at office. Wonder how the travel mug could be empty already. Make a beeline for the lounge’s coffee maker and hope nobody speaks to me until Friday.