I would like to apologize for live-tweeting major award ceremonies like the Oscars and the Grammys.
(What a waste of time. I’m sorry.)
I would like to apologize for commenting on what people are wearing while wearing yoga pants and my retainers. (I’m an ass.)
I would like to apologize for contributing to a social media environment where everybody chimes in on current events and tries to be funnier than the next person. (None of us are as funny as we think we are, and this is especially true in my case.)
I am starting to count up all the hours I’ve wasted being “witty” and “funny” and I realize — Christ, no wonder I don’t have a hardcover book.
My expertise falls into three categories: work, life, and cats. I have a discerning eye for when people are working and doing stupid things, and I know a lot of random shit about the world.
But I’m not a comedian, and neither are you.
Having made a few friends who are full-time comedic writers and actors over the past few years, I am beginning to see how most of them follow the Craig Ferguson model of tweeting.
# Does this need to be said?
# Does this need to be said by me?
# Does this need to be said now?
I’m going to start following this methodology ASAP.
And I’m going to take a standup writing workshop this year. Why the hell not? I have an inkling that I could be a comedian — or a comedic writer, at the very least — and I’d like to pursue that angle in my life.