I tend to forget things … a lot.

No, seriously – it’s sometimes a wonder I ever have anything to write about here at all because far too often it seems like my brain probably more closely resembles a sieve than a sponge, with ideas flowing through so fast if I don’t hurry up and catch ‘em in the sink, it’s likely that they’ll slip down the drain and just disappear into the void forever!  And it saddens me to admit that there have probably been hundreds, maybe even thousands of wonderful and goofy ideas that have just carelessly slipped through the proverbial cracks in my mind over the years, but at least I can say that eventually I’ve been able to come to terms with accepting my own perpetual forgetfulness and finally I’ve come up with a system to help salvage this creative catastrophe, if you will…

Simply put, I write a lot of things down.

It’s because of this that half the time you’re likely to see me carrying around a notepad or a handful of sticky notes, or perhaps even just scribbling feverishly on the back of a credit card receipt or whatever other scrap paper I can get my hands on at the seemingly random moment when humor strikes. Of course, the other half of the time is usually spent looking for said notepad or assorted note-taking paraphernalia after misplacing it somewhere and proceeding to panic over losing the last funny thing that I’ll EVER come up with! What can I say – it’s not exactly a perfect system, but it sure as heck beats writing notes about fart jokes on the back of your hand…

Now granted, it’s probably forthcoming to admit that this quirky process of mine isn’t without its critics – most notably random strangers who can’t help but wonder what’s so funny about “busty bar wenches” that not only has the guy next to them in line for Pirates of the Caribbean giggling like a five year-old, but also writing down such extraordinarily mature quips for posterity’s sake!  Some will simply shake their heads before going back to gushing about Justin Bieber and the Temple of Doom, some will ask and then subsequently regret asking upon the realization that I’m actually not five years-old at all, but merely an adult with the sense of humor of one, and of course, some will simply resort to the passive aggressive option of tweeting about the weirdo behind them in line at Disney World … which is actually fine with me because by now I’ve probably already posted two or three charmingly sarcastic tweets of my own with regards to their baffling decision to wear Ugg boots around the Sunshine State in the middle of summertime!

As if?!

Thankfully, though, at least my wife understands the need to supplement this lackluster memory of mine and seeing as I value her own opinion of my own eccentricities just a teensy bit more than some random theme park strangers with absolutely dreadful taste in fashion and general common sense, as long as it’s little more than the occasional loving eye-roll when she notices that I’ve stopped twenty feet behind her to scribble down some random note about maniacal, mutant armadillos, that’s really all the acceptance that this creative cavalcade needs.

Besides, without such diligent note taking, it’s pretty much back to posting adorable, puppy pics ad nauseam every single week and even the most devoted of puppy parents can’t handle that volume of cute on a regular basis!

…although for what it’s worth, she has been chewing us out of house and home seemingly a bit more than usual lately.  I should write that down – maybe there’s something more to squeeze from these doggy dilemmas that I’ve been dealing with after all…