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:
‘Yay’.
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.
