Reason 250

Spontaneous songwriting. I am constantly making up random songs on the fly in an attempt to clear out weird thoughts from my fairly cluttered brain. It's almost like I'm Eminem in that scene from 8 Mile where he battles another rapper to come up with mind-blowing lyrics at a moment's notice. Um, except without the sneer or the wife beater or the homophobia. My dog Molly is often the recipient of my musical masterpieces and has become so sick of my warbling that she actually rolls her eyes at me when I start to trill about the cutest canine in the world. In my defense, a lot of words rhyme with Molly, making it way too easy to whip up a song for her when I stroll through the door. Dogs, however, aren't my only target. Just yesterday morning, while pedaling by the nearby horse stables, I saw an adorably fat chipmunk scurry across the bike path. I immediately started singing a song about the miniature version of Dale, which went something like this. And a one, and a two...Cute and chubby chipmunk, runnin' cross the path; Poor old silly chipmunk, I bet you can't do math; Brown and fuzzy chipmunk, how you make me laugh! Oh, cute and chubby chipmunk, runnin' cross my path. Now, obviously you'd be more impressed by my song stylings if you could actually hear the words set to my brilliant melody, but I don't think I have the technology available to record myself into this post. Try to keep from crying on your giant pillow. If we hang out for any considerable length of time, Jason, I can almost guarantee you'll have a chance to bask in my last-minute lyrical genius, so don't be suspicious if you spot a rhyming dictionary stowed in my purse. I'll even let you add a line or two if I get stuck, since you have some experience writing songs. While a rock opera about Dracula is impressive, it doesn't quite have the appeal of a tune about rodents, though, so don't let your head get too big or try to Bogart my next radio hit. I think the world is almost ready for a musical ode to my legs: Oh, the veins in my leg are blue like the rain or a line on a roadmap to nowhere; they twist and they turn, they wiggle and squirm; reminds me a bit of spaghetti. Thank you, thank you very much.