Niche - Is Yours as Good as Mine?

For the longest time whenever I would have those cat-staring-out-the-window "I should buy a boat" moments, it was always "I should start a vlog." (Other variations include "I should write a screenplay" and "I should become a space pirate.")

After several attempts at a vlog and a long litany of videos of me saying stupid stuff and my webcam malfunctioning, I returned to the idea of a normal blog. Words-on-screen and such.

One of which, in fact, I have had for years. However, it is the most self-indulgent blog ever because it's just an online dream journal. The only people who are insane enough to voluntarily submit themselves to a rambling, nonsensical description of all of the dumb shit that someone's brain came up with while they were sleeping are, according to the statistics, primarily from Russia.

Regardless of the fact that I would not read it myself, I love my dream blog dearly. It's for me and my handful of Russian fans to enjoy. Maybe I am to Russia what David Hasselhoff is to Germany.

Back to the (sort of) story, one of my half-hearted New Year's resolutions other than get more sleep and stop watching shows that have laugh tracks was to keep a journal. Which I did, for about four days, in an awesome notebook made out of elephant dung that I got on Etsy. I did immediately sniff it when it came in the mail. You'd never know it was in an elephant's colon. Maybe I'll include a link here, and that can be part of my niche.

The issue now is that I need something that will make my blog unique. Like "My Drunk Kitchen" or "Hyperbole and a Half" or "Cat vs. Human" or "Books of Adam" except that I'm not an adorable lesbian or decent artist. My art skills are limited to drawing my boyfriend as a superhero or a person facing forward with their arms at their sides. My lesbian skills are limited to a party at the "Tuba House" during my time at Central during which my friend tried to find another attractive slightly-skanky woman to eat half of a Kit-Kat out of her mouth but had to settle for me (in a hoody with my high school's name on it not talking to anyone), and I consented primarily because I really wanted a Kit-Kat bar. I don't think anyone thought it was hot. She has great tits, though.

I gave weird poetry a shot. There are two more poems saved in my "Drafts" folder, a limerick about Zebulon Pike (too specific to be interesting) and a free verse titled "The Time You Saw My Butthole." Neither of which I found suitable for the public, although there was a nice parallel between a surprisingly hairy anal sphincter and the inevitable mortality of man.

I could write about my job. That's a decent option - I'm a veterinary assistant at a prominent veterinary hospital in my area. My duties range from scrubbing in on surgeries to scooping poop along the sidewalk. I spent an hour or two today nursing (via the mama dog, obviously) 14 neomastiff pups. Did more dog-nipple-pinching than I ever intended to do in my life. I have a year's worth of stories saved up, now that I think about it, lots of entertaining ones, too. Stories that range from outright potty humor to heartfelt (self-indulgent) philosophy. Much cuteness and possible pictures, too, now that I think of it.

GREAT SCOTT! I think I've got it. Welcome to my blog about being a veterinary assistant, peppered with occasional crude poetry for added spice. Prepare to laugh so hard you unintentionally release a small amount of urine, I have my niche.


Let's meet back here tomorrow for my first knee-slapper. And to all of my Russian fans out there, "На какой улице можно у вас увидеть диких белых медведей?"