Once upon a time somebody directed me to a blog—it was a parody of blogs and It Was Hilarious. I have tried and tried to remember the name of it, to no avail. I have searched for it and have found ripoffs, but the one I'm thinking of eludes me. It's not in my history, it's not in my bookmarks, it's nowhere. It was a blog that simply recorded, in excruciatingly boring detail, each day of a man's life. I can't find it (little help?), but for all I know it's 6 feet deep in the Page Not Found cemetery. Actually, the one I found might have been a ripoff of some other true original. That's how much I remember about it. I clicked, I laughed, I moved on. But then I laughed some more. In the car, in the shower, walking the dog. Certain phrases stuck to me and kept me giggling spontaneously. I'd like to find it again. I can't. But enough about the mystery. This is, after all, about mundanity.

In honor of this long lost source of boring hilarity, and to perhaps assist you, dear reader, in helping me hunt down The Original, I bring you the first five minutes of my Tuesday morning:

Ahem...

The dog licked my hand. That's how I got up. My left arm was a slab of meat. I had been sleeping on it all wrong, and now it felt like dead weight. This must be someone else's arm, cuz it sure as hell isn't mine. Can't even make a fist. It won't do what I think I'm telling it to do—like, move. It's also meat freezer cold cuz of the fan. And the lack of blood. Then comes the tingling. Then the alarm goes off but I can't use the dead arm, which is closest. But of course I tried, and knocked over the water that I had forgotten to drink last night.

I soaked up the water. I walked to the bathroom and had a piss. I say "had a piss" here and not "took a piss" because I heard an English fellow say this and I liked it. Taking doesn't really make sense, does it? Anyway I flushed it out of my life and had a look in the mirror. There's this one wrinkle under my eye that's always pronounced for the first half an hour or so of every day. It's how my face folds when I sleep on it. I looked at it for a while and shook my dead arm to get the blood flowing some more.

The dog came in and wagged her tail which means food would be nice but we both know that Nikki already fed her but she tries this every morning regardless. We've gotten our signals crossed and fed her twice just often enough to ensure that she'll never forget it. I almost don't notice the wagging anymore.

The toothpaste has no cap. Oh, there's the cap, at the bottom of the thing that we keep the toothpaste in. I squeezed out a dollop (which is a word I really hate but use it here just for the opportunity to say that I hate it) and went to work on the pearlies. I had read the day before that you can stay more mentally alert throughout the day if you switch up the habits you take for granted the most, like brushing with your dominant hand. I'd like to be able to try this out but my left arm now feels like it's the test subject for a thousand acupuncturists-in-training.

My forehead had an itch. I scratched it. This relieved the itch, and I continued to brush. I spat, rinsed, and stared at my morning wrinkle some more. I thought about rubbing some kind of lotion on it, something from Nikki's vast assortment of products, to see if it would look smaller tomorrow morning. I decided not to bother. I could make a fist now.

I turned and stared out the window for a minute. A mother was strolling her baby across the street. No one I know. The stroller had three wheels. It was blue. I thought, This would be a Folgers moment if I just had a cup of coffee to sip on.

I walked downstairs to make some coffee. I put the beans in the grinder. Not Folgers, mind you. Folgers sucks. But so does the coffee I stupidly bought at BJ's when we were stocking up on bottled water.

WAIT A MINUTE WAIT A MINUTE, I just read this back and it's all wrong. Completely off the mark in my attempt to rip off that blog that had cracked me up so. There wasn't any of this detail or reverie. It went more like this:

I got up. My arm was numb. I spilled some water trying to turn off the alarm. The dog was in my face. I had a piss and a shiver. Then I brushed my teeth and stared at my wrinkle in the mirror. Had a look out the window. Saw a mom with a baby in a blue stroller. I wanted coffee, so I went downstairs and made some. The dog followed me downstairs. The dog always follows me downstairs. The dog always follows me upstairs, too. A light was on so I turned it off. I stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds, forgetting what I was there to do.

Then I remembered: coffee. I made the coffee and then I drank the coffee, but at first it tasted like shit because I had brushed first. Sometimes I remember to drink the coffee first, and then brush. But not today.

[Thus ending the example, which is designed to both jog my memory and hopefully help you help me find the blog in question.]

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