Pro Life

So this is again one of my freeform blogs. Because the others were so clearly structured and considered.

I guess I have one or two things to talk about, but that being said, I'm not going to come on here and just bitch about my job. 1) Because I do that enough at work, and 2) Because now I know some people are reading this, it becomes slightly more than just my outlet for thoughts that probably won't turn out funny. And that would be selfish. That's what therapy is for.

Speaking of which, I gave that a shot. Well, there's the whole issue of my dad and my occasional overeating that I'd like to address, so it seemed like a worthwhile exercise.

You know when sterotypes smack you in the face? When you realise from whence they were born initially?
Yeah, well my therapy bloke came to greet me and couldn't have been more clichéd if he'd been Frasier Crane.
He wandered over to me in sandals, slacks and a 70s-style shirt, with a long, curly ponytail dragging behind him. Oh yes. Stereotastical!

He also kept talking in that annoyingly obvious "calming" tone, with lots of hand gestures like a hippy Tony Blair. And they're annoyingly simple. It's almost patronising, but of course they mean well. But talking about the difference between feelings and thoughts and behaviour...I mean meh. When I'm in a mood it's all three in a distorted mess. I don't fucking know.

So throughout this assessment and hypothetical further "treatment" appointments I have to put aside my somewhat layman's knowledge of psychology gleamed from years of being generally interested in it and self-psychoanalysis and talk in baby terms about it. "Dan made a boo boo. Dan sad." Fuck off, I seem to be better at your job than you are at this point. I may as well have an NHS-funded mirror at home.

Ok moving on from that, what have I done? What's been funny to me. Oh yes, you'll like this. I got my car broken into. Yeah, funny as fuck I know. The funny thing about it wasn't the act itself though. I mean I don't know why they chose my car, maybe ease or intrigue or they just plain liked the colour, I don't know.

What I do know is that they didn't take my radio. It's nothing special but it's a CD player and I guess it's worth more than nothing, at least. They also didn't take my (admittedly paltry) collection of CDs in the glove box. They opened it, looked at them and just thought "nah, I'm really not into old-school emo, I'll leave them. And the radio's been tainted by them, so leave that too."

No, they took my tent out of the boot. A lovely, eight-ish-year-old, slightly mouldy (honestly, what self-respecting man hangs up an already-packed-away tent once he's home?), £30 tent, two lighters and two boxes of Crunchy Nut Corn Flakes. Yep. And they left one box of those as well. They were on offer - £1 a box. Don't look at me like I'm weird.

Fucking tramps breaking into my car for food, shelter and a means of starting a fire. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I don't have to replace my CDs and radio...it's just a little bemusing. We live in the times when a car stereo is worth less to thieves than breakfast cereal. Think about that for a minute. It melts your mind, right?

So right now I'm currently sitting in my office at work - yeah, believe it or not I'm still holding down a 9-5 - and everybody else has gone home. It's nice and quiet. And I'm being paid to write nonsense for all you fine people to read, which is lovely. I guess that officially makes me a professional comedian, what with this being ostensibly a comedy blog and all. Bonus. No need to get on stage - I've already made it.

So as for this gig...whenever it happens to be (as I'm struggling to come up with a coherent full set from the vastly different conglomeration of ideas on here), the bookers want some blurb about me. So I've been tasked with writing my own biog - the industry term for biography. Yeah, us showbiz types know the lingo. Professional comic right here.

So basically that's your usual fluff about how "he blends postmodern wit and audience interraction with surrealist songs about badgers and artichokes to create a blissful, transcendent smorgasboard of comedic delight".

Yeah, for mine I was thinking about "If you're lucky he'll make you giggle 'til you wee a little."
What you think?

Professional comic. Right here.