Who Do I Think I Am??

This one's about my existence.

THE PROMPT: "The reason I was born into the world."

Good evening fine readers. blainecindy has graced us with today's humbling prompt, which I am ready to disassemble into something that may wind up looking much like the opposite of her statement (meaning, "reasons I shouldn't be allowed to mingle with the others").

I was put here to laugh. I'm not the funniest guy, and I've got quite the repertoire of cornball humor, but occasionally I can bust out a line or two that brings the whole room down in laughter. That there alone is worth enough, when I see that look of unadulterated enjoyment on people's faces, to say it's a good life. Boom. Entry completed? Nope.

I've always believed in the "give one, get two" theory. As in, make a joke about your friend (in good fun, of course), expect to be the butt of the joke twice in return. So, with the great power of laughter, so comes the great responsibilty of taking the joke. It's a lesson I've learned the hard way at first, but being able to laugh at yourself is a wonderful science that, when applied correctly, can endear you to almost anyone..."Oh, look at him! Poor guy! He's so stupid he's cute!"

The things I've been able to prove to the world already and can die knowing I made an impact somewhere:

White men (5'6") can jump.

Any idiot with two feet can dance. And some do it better than others. I can dance. Most will disagree.

Any idiot with a computer and a decent internet connection can write a blog. Not many can say they've won some awards for it. But I can. Words...they apparently aren't for everyone.

My head may be more than a hatrack, but my face won't pay the rent.

But the one thing...the "main reason", as I like to call it when we're having a discussion like this where we talk out our reasons for being here, the reason I was born into world? To create. Whether it's what you're reading now, or busting a few rhymes to make someone smile, or put together a gift for someone, or whip up a crazy recipe just to make a meal, creation is the heart of it. I can't sit still; my mind doesn't have an off switch. Ideas are always swirling around in my head about something.

Some people are born doing what they love. Some can pick up a skill or a hobby at an early age, be lucky enough to turn it into a career, and then wind up being miserable the rest of their lives because their "fun" has become a job. I aspired once to be a journalist, and enjoyed studying and working at it, but in the end I was never able to attain that goal. In some ways, I consider myself lucky for that. I couldn't imagine working for a newspaper or a radio station all day, and then coming home and writing about it. But it would've been a pretty sweet gig. I guess I was put here for other reasons instead.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

I once spent over an hour in a barber's chair, with two Supercuts stylists, trying do get them to cut my hair like this legend's. It barely worked. I'd never in my life had to use a blow dryer to style my hair, but for about a week or so I looked like the younger version of this dapper gentleman, only I wore glasses. And he's better looking.

VITAL STATS:

Fly your disco flags at half-mast tonight for legendary singer Donna Summer. May she rest in peace.

Battled 5:45am righteously at work today, and paid for it by getting the corner of a box being launched off the delivery truck into the dead-center of my left palm. Not cool, cuz anything dead-center in the palm is plenty to make the hand ache just enough to remind you that you were at work way too damn early. Plus, I've got a nice, circular cut now inside my palm, prompting G-Stamm to say, "You really are Photo Jesus now, aren't you?"

OK. Time to move on to other plans for the evening. I'll check you guys out and call it a night...these meds are killin' me by the time I'm done with work, so it'd probably be wise to head to bed at a decent hour. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!