I was sitting at work today, innocently browsing the internet while stealthily avoiding doing what some people would describe as "my job" when I found it. Sony Pictures is making a film version of the Maple Syrup Heist. Not only that, but they ignored my PERFECT CASTING and have attached Jason Seigel to the project. This is an outrage. Bruce Willis should sue.
You know what this feels like? This feels like I mined a perfect idea, drilled it from the core of the tree of inspiration. I carefully collected that idea in a bucket or possibly a large barrel and then I took the idea and carefully distilled it down and then locked that idea in a warehouse out in the middle of the woods by placing it on a rarely visited blog on the internet. I figured the idea was safe (who steals ideas from warehouses after all) so I didn't really patrol the warehouse very often and I didn't put up any cameras or firewalls cuz that costs money. And then these tricky bastards at Sony snuck past my clever defenses (namely a fence) at the warehouse that held my distilled and sweet ideas and drilled into the idea barrels, collecting all my inspiration before stealing away into the cold black Canadian night. And for months now I believed my ideas were safe cuz, I mean fuck it, the barrels of idea were still there the few times I bothered to check. But then I went back with a plate of waffles, needing some idea topping and poof. All my mother fucking ideas are gone and probably sold on the black market.
God Damn It.
In lighter news my big sis Christy may start doing guest posts on here. She will slowly continue to post, both more frequently and with more wit than me until I abandon this whole project and cry in a corner. I've been working on my inferiority complex, but somehow I don't think it's working...
You know what this feels like? This feels like I mined a perfect idea, drilled it from the core of the tree of inspiration. I carefully collected that idea in a bucket or possibly a large barrel and then I took the idea and carefully distilled it down and then locked that idea in a warehouse out in the middle of the woods by placing it on a rarely visited blog on the internet. I figured the idea was safe (who steals ideas from warehouses after all) so I didn't really patrol the warehouse very often and I didn't put up any cameras or firewalls cuz that costs money. And then these tricky bastards at Sony snuck past my clever defenses (namely a fence) at the warehouse that held my distilled and sweet ideas and drilled into the idea barrels, collecting all my inspiration before stealing away into the cold black Canadian night. And for months now I believed my ideas were safe cuz, I mean fuck it, the barrels of idea were still there the few times I bothered to check. But then I went back with a plate of waffles, needing some idea topping and poof. All my mother fucking ideas are gone and probably sold on the black market.
God Damn It.
In lighter news my big sis Christy may start doing guest posts on here. She will slowly continue to post, both more frequently and with more wit than me until I abandon this whole project and cry in a corner. I've been working on my inferiority complex, but somehow I don't think it's working...
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