In The Mooooood
My apologies for the lack of posts these days. You see I’ve been busy – trying to escape from chores and work mostly, but apart from that, the mood really hasn’t stiked me of late. I have heard that for some people, ideas come in the shower whilst shampooing those last three strands of hair, scrubbing them spongey butts, and feeling those three boobies for lumps of undigested food. So it’s really hard for me to imagine being inspired during such times – not to say that I don’t think of anything at all at that time, but most of my thoughts would revolve around doughnuts and apple pies, and the occassional image of Tara Reid’s frankentit that I’ve been having regular nightmares of. Eeew. Aside from that, I only shower once a month, so I really don’t see how this will solve things for me *sigh…. err, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that though.*
But all is not lost. I also happen to have read, that there are a good number of people who find inspiration in the car. This sounded quite interesting and since I find myself more times in my car than in the shower, I decided to give this strategy a try.
On my drive back home I tried to summon the forces of creativity. It turned out to be harder than I thought. First of all, there was the problem of ambience. When you’ve been stuck on the road amidst four hundred cars, stalled in the same small spot for the last forty minutes, the only ambience you get is fresh smog – or worse, stale air that that crab-infested STD-carrying horny and hairy pervert four feet away breathed out two minutes ago -- and no, i’m not being paranoid, you just never know! and ticks have wings too you know!!!
Secondly, there’s the problem of calm. Let’s admit it, no sane driver would have a drop of calmness left during these situations, and if you’re normal - like me, you’d have been busy enough waving those precious middle fingers in all directions while yelling crude comments in five different languages and plotting bloody murder that you’re simply not in the correct state of mind to hear out those creepy little voices in your head.
So no, I failed to think up a post earlier in the car and so no, I still don’t have anything to write. The only thing I remember from that buggered drive - other than the three people I killed as I swept through that last intersection, was a lousy bumper sticker saying : If you love animals called pets, why do you eat animals called food?
What a goddamned fucking bumper sticker to see. But since you asked, here’s my answer:
Well it’s like this, I used to have a pet cow named Betsy and I kept her in the apartment with me. She had an appetite of a pig - even if she was a cow, and I had to hold three jobs to feed her gouge. But inspite of this, whenever I sat on the couch to watch TV, she’d jump on my lap and break all my goddamed fucking ribs -- yeah, doesn’t sound awfully cute now does she?
The final straw came when we played "catch" and I aimed, I threw the ball at her feet and she crashed through the wall into the next door unit. I was sued to the bone when my neighbor ended up in the emergency room, and that’s when I decided... to stop trying to make this goddamn story rhyme and just eat the fucking bitch. The end.
That’s my post for the day, happy now?!?
But all is not lost. I also happen to have read, that there are a good number of people who find inspiration in the car. This sounded quite interesting and since I find myself more times in my car than in the shower, I decided to give this strategy a try.
On my drive back home I tried to summon the forces of creativity. It turned out to be harder than I thought. First of all, there was the problem of ambience. When you’ve been stuck on the road amidst four hundred cars, stalled in the same small spot for the last forty minutes, the only ambience you get is fresh smog – or worse, stale air that that crab-infested STD-carrying horny and hairy pervert four feet away breathed out two minutes ago -- and no, i’m not being paranoid, you just never know! and ticks have wings too you know!!!
Secondly, there’s the problem of calm. Let’s admit it, no sane driver would have a drop of calmness left during these situations, and if you’re normal - like me, you’d have been busy enough waving those precious middle fingers in all directions while yelling crude comments in five different languages and plotting bloody murder that you’re simply not in the correct state of mind to hear out those creepy little voices in your head.
So no, I failed to think up a post earlier in the car and so no, I still don’t have anything to write. The only thing I remember from that buggered drive - other than the three people I killed as I swept through that last intersection, was a lousy bumper sticker saying : If you love animals called pets, why do you eat animals called food?
What a goddamned fucking bumper sticker to see. But since you asked, here’s my answer:
Well it’s like this, I used to have a pet cow named Betsy and I kept her in the apartment with me. She had an appetite of a pig - even if she was a cow, and I had to hold three jobs to feed her gouge. But inspite of this, whenever I sat on the couch to watch TV, she’d jump on my lap and break all my goddamed fucking ribs -- yeah, doesn’t sound awfully cute now does she?
The final straw came when we played "catch" and I aimed, I threw the ball at her feet and she crashed through the wall into the next door unit. I was sued to the bone when my neighbor ended up in the emergency room, and that’s when I decided... to stop trying to make this goddamn story rhyme and just eat the fucking bitch. The end.
That’s my post for the day, happy now?!?
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