The Procrastinator

In an effort to kill the procrastinator in me once and for all (but I so love it) I have joined up with some other comedians in order to improve and focus our comedy writing.  I think it's fair to say that I love nothing more than to allow my brain to puke a load of rubbish in crappy formats such as this when really I should be forcing myself to once again write constructively. 

...so, here I am, attempting to rein myself in and not just spill the darkest depths of my strange thought patterns (I've learned that the last lot about the bathroom crossed the line of being mildly amusing to actually Sket, you may need to seek some professional help.  I had been thinking people would understand and agree that they too have similar thoughts!) Right, one of the exercises for this week is to write something called 'The 7 Ages of Me'.  I need to pick a theme (the example was living arrangements eg. living with parents, student accommodation, getting your own house, losing said house and living back with parents etc. etc.) and then adding afterthoughts.  I have decided to write about the 7 ages of my mental health.  Shit, there's a definite theme to my life isn't there?  Ok, here goes:

1. Childhood:  As a child I was brave and fearless.  I was scared of nothing as neither the Fates nor my parents had yet been given the opportunity to fuck me up in those extra special ways that only those two agencies, are they agencies, can. I was a mentally healthy and happy child UNTIL it would seem that I developed a fear of taking a shit. Yup, as a child I feared the faeces.  Not actually the faeces itself but the ACT of defecation.  I understand that I would be playing happily, most often in just pants with a towel tied around my neck and a giant S lipsticked across my chest, as I played Superman with the toy lobster I particularly loved.  I do need to question who exactly buys their kid a lobster though. I do have to say that on reflection, I'd LOVE to live in just my pants and a cape only I guess that my housemate would more than likely object which, quite frankly is very rude and judegemental although I can, in a certain light, appreciate that if I refused to wear a bra and had lipstick smeared across my breasts people might talk, and not in a good way.  My housemate might ask me to move out and then I'd be homeless... in just my pants and a cape which might attract the attention of the authorities.  I digress. My Mother tells me that I would be playing happily before stopping, teeth clenched, face scrunched and pretending that it was totally normal to have a sphincter tighter than erm, something really REALLY tight. 
2. AT SCHOOL: By this time I'd met people and was now beginning my life of paranoia.  I fully believed everyone hated me and so felt the need to find out what they were saying.  During a school trip I had been forced to share...........I'm bored now. 
3. COLLEGE: Monsters
4. WORK: Monsters
5. DATING: Don't touch me and Monsters
6. SINGLETON: Something about being found rotted into the carpet covered in flies by TV's Life of Grime crew.
7. OLD GIT: Something about being a piss stained crazy cat lady wearing just my incontinence pants and a red cape with my ancient withered boobs hanging down around my knees

I'm so ashamed of myself.  The procrastinator within me ALWAYS wins.