In a lifetime of speculation, it has never occurred to me that I would ever draw a blowfish. Actually, there’s a limitless number of activities it has never occurred to me that I would ever do, and for all but a tiny fraction of them, my not-occurring assumptions have been right on the mark. Here’s a short but fascinating list of things that it never occurred to me that I would do, and actually ended up doing:
• Have a novelty plastic faucet stuck on my forehead for hours, leaving a giant Bindi spot for several days.
• Bribe a Romanian customs official at the Bucharest airport.
• Be homeless for three weeks.
•Swallow a quarter.
• Walk in front of a fan with a plate of consecrated Host wafers, sending the Body and Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ fluttering around my childhood church.
• Stagger down Bourbon Street carrying a giant sign saying “Huge Ass Beer.”
• Sit at the pool at the Mondrian Hotel in LA next to one of the Smothers Brothers and ask him, “Which Smothers Brother are you?” (Okay, that was another guy in our entourage who did that, but it’s too good a story to pass up.)
• Be chased around Times Square by a man wearing a shoe on his head.
• Absent-mindedly suck on my fountain pen in 5th grade Geography class and hold a mouthful of ink for the whole period because I was too shy to raise my hand.
• Survive the events of November 17, 2002.
You can tell I’m stalling, can’t you? That’s because I really have nothing else to say about having drawn a blowfish. I drew a blowfish. End of story.