Wednesday, 5 June 2013
It would appear I've been desserted...
Yes, I know that's the incorrect spelling but to be fair, you've no idea what I am about to say. I could well have been desserted. You never know. Don't judge me!
Returning to at least the approximate vicinity of my intended topic... I feel I have been abandoned to rot in sugary solitude by my inspiration. My counterpart Facey McBones may well be suffering from the same thing. Winter is upon us, friends, and the plummeting temperatures are sapping the creativity from my bones.
... You know what though I'm liking that metaphor more and more. In my day I have supped upon the dry and tasteless scone of writer's block and plunged face-first into the warm, gooey, chocolatey pudding of inspiration. On occasion I have even been attacked by the ballistic cupcakes of self-realisation. Once when I was drunk I threw up the overly rich shortbread of shame and regret. But that's another story.
If perhaps actual desserts were involved I'd be happier. Each emotion or scenario should come with its own dessert. And why not? People tend to cry when cutting onions... so it can therefore be assumed (shut the fuck up, Science) that onions are the direct cause of sadness. And if onions then why not other foods? Conversely, if this is true - and I'm assuming it is - then we could potentially avoid certain scenarios by the avoidance of the associated dessert! (Science, I told you to shut up.)
The heartbroken could dry their eyes and go on their merry way if they simply avoided icecream. Imagine how much happier we'd all be if once a month women left the chocolate in the cupboard and forgot their PMR (Pre-Menstrual Rage)? Victims would be totally fine after car accidents and suchlike if so-called-helpful people would stop giving them hot sweet tea for shock! WINTER WOULD CEASE TO BE COLD IF YOU BASTARDS JUST STOPPED MAKING NOURISHING STEWS!!!
... OK that's it Science, I'm getting the bat.