Sunday, January 09, 2005

Creativity in the Form of Comments

This is a reply to a post on A--'s live journal. I will include excerpts from said post to provide context.

Her post:
1/7/05-10:51pm:
um. . . I don't think milk is supposed to drip off your spoon like egg yolk. Then again, it could be because it was a mix of whole and skim and because it was almost frozen in the top shelf of the fridge. Oh well, I ate cereal with it anyway. But now my stomach hurts. Good job, A--.
1/8/05- 10:15am:
Well I'm still here so the milk musta been fine. :-p

My comment:
1/9/05- 8:37pm:
Glad you're not dying...yet.

As for the egg-like milk: sounds like something out of a bad horror movie or something. The pitch to the film company might sound something (but only something) like this:

The milk becomes embittered by it's lack of use and decides to revolt against it's user. Since you neglected it when it was good, you'll surely not get any now that it's bad. Now, the plan would have worked perfectly, had the consumer been someone other than a college student. As many of us know, college students become desperate, and desperation leads to rash measures, like drinking milk that drips off a spoon as though it were an egg. The egg-i-milk's plan was foiled, and it is now sitting in your stomach plotting it's smelly expulsion from your body, or it's violent revolt against your nervous system. Either way, THE EGG-I-MILK WILL HAVE IT'S REVENGE! I hope it's not the latter.

Her reply:
1/9/05-8:50pm:
Laura, I would kill (well, maybe only maim) for your creativity. It's truly a gift :-p

My reply:
1/9/05-9:05pm:
As long as you don't kill/maim me for my creativity, be my guest. I think I'm one of those people who will, in the later years, be considered either crazy or excentric. Now, it's only the rich people that are considered excentric...everyone else get's thrown into an insane asylum. I shall hope to be rich one day, so that I may avoid dying alone in a hospital, comforted only by a six foot tall rabbit named Harvey, the opium smoking worm from Alice In Wonderland, and my psychiatrist friend who lives in the mirror.

All material used by permission from their authors. No law suits necessary. I know, I'm a creative genius. Humble too.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

aww... i'll be there with you when you die in the loony bin. true i'll be in my bed, in another wing somewhere (you could probably find the bed because of the blanket fort i'd have all around it, and uh, watch out for the mousetraps, those thing hurt on bare feet). or maybe i'll be rich, wait no, that would be paul, paul's gonna be rich. we're both going to die in the loony bin, you know we're just kind of staving off the inevitable.

but i guess if they ever came to take us away (they're coming to take me away ha ha ho ho hee hee to the funny farm where life is beautiful all the time) we can just blame the theatre. besides, we're all a little crazy, of course we also talk to ourselves and have split personalities. anyway, bye, from all of us/me

Laura said...

Squirty, you're just weird.