I like to think that if the box of art supplies I have on the floor in my line of vision at the moment suddenly burst to life, sang me a song about the hard life of a soft tip pen, and then built a full regulation sized ice rink in my bedroom, painted on all the lines, spots and advertising logos needed to reach the standard as seen in ice hockey matches played in North America and then beamed to happy consumers around the developed world, then completed an entire game of ice-hockey without getting into a single fight, before the victors celebrated with an ice cold beer as supplied by which ever beer manufacturer paid for the advertising space on their ice, and then completely dominated an online celebrity fashion blog comments section, after really truly putting ‘Klip_op’ into their rightful place, which is deep up their own ass, after their despicable comments under the famous pictures of Kurt Douglas, I mean really Klip_Op – ‘nice suit?’ You can’t muster up a ‘really nice suit’ or perhaps a ‘nice suit, I like it’? Nah, cause you’re too fucking good for that aren’t you Klip_Op, you fucking fuck face.
Then I would totally think:
Because when every day is the best day of your life, you say ‘yay’ quite a lot.
Well sure some people go with ‘yippee’ but who wants to waste time with a two-syllable celebration in amazing times like this?
I think the lesson is that it’s ok to be humble.
No wait; it’s how come my teddy bear didn’t come alive? Come on dude, you’re not lifting your weight, you’re leaving the magic coming alive to art supplies for fuck’s sake, and I don’t know if you already knew this, but it turns out, against all known indications and suspicions, it’s hard to be a soft tip pen.