Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.


Why is it that trying to convince myself I want to sit down and write feels more like I'm trying to sell myself on the idea of sticking pins in my eyeballs.

Me: You really want to write.
Me2: Excuse me, you want me to stick *pins* in my *eyeballs*?
Me: No. *Write*, you lazy ass.
Me2: But I can't write while I'm lying on the couch. The computer is in the other room.
Me: Duh.
Me2: You mean I'd have to get up?
Me: You really are a masterpiece of lint and inertia.
Me2: But "Scream" is on. I've only seen it 41 times. 42 is the magic number. It's the meaning of life.
Me: I'm crushing your head! Crushcrushcrush!
Me2: This couch is comfy. If I lift my hand in front of my face, it's like my hand is Skeet Ulrich's head and my fingers are talking lips.
Me: ...
Spike: I'm sitting here in a bloody holding pattern, you stupid bint. Three more scenes, tops--is a little closure too much to ask?
Spike2: I'm still a whore and even though I've found true love in the well-muscled arms of a rich and manly Scotsman, I really think I should be with Xander. Why don't you lie down and ponder that for a while, hmm? I realize I'm speaking in a strangely out-of-character voice but I think my argument is convincing.
Me2: I am feeling...sleeeeepy.
Me: Laziest. Bitch. Ever.
Me2: Hey, I could go write this in my LiveJournal and kill ten minutes!
Me: *explodes, shattering bone fragements and brain matter across the walls*

The end.
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.