I’m on the edge.
I’m on the edge of the middle.
It’s a constant food crusade.
I eat Doritos from the wrong end.
Eating them the hard way isn’t necessarily bad.
Real men eat Doritos the hard way.
Real men aren’t afraid of a challenge.
Real men blah blah blah.
My jokes aren’t funny.
When I perform them for people nobody laughs.
While I smile no one snickers, not even a grin.
I wrote a story that I thought was creative.
It was boring and the plot didn’t make sense.
I wrote a screenplay that I thought was hilarious.
I showed it to an actor who was perfect for the lead.
He dropped it in the shredder.
I gave a presentation.
A few people looked at their watches, others slept.
I wrote a poem. I thought it was clever.
My husband got mad when I recited it.
I was standing in front of the television
And my poem didn’t rhyme.