Poison on the Box

So far this morning I've only left the house to go and get pop tarts and some bread. I've eaten all the bread but have yet to start on the pop tarts. I'm unreasonably proud of myself. However, I can't help but think the longer I sit on this sofa the more people are going to ask me if anyone I know has had an accident or if I'm struggling to make ends meet.

The solution seems to be getting a payday loan to buy new limbs for my clumsy ass friends from what I can work out. This doesn't seem very practical but I can't really work out what else the television has been trying to tell me. I'm looking forward to the day television ads are biased towards other things you've looked at recently; like they are on the internet. Let's play a game shall we? I will write some imaginary adverts and you will work out what I'm watching that has spawned these devil products...

1. "Have you recently burned your mouth on hot breakfast?" or "Has someone you know recently been sent down for a crime they may not have committed?"

2. "Need to put a collar on a goat in a hurry? Try this new product from JML..." or "Impress your neighbours with this brand new rhinestone hoe... only £4,99 in 18 separate payments."

3. "Run out of people to sleep with in your immediate vicinity? Why not cut your ties and jet off with our half price deals to Spain and/or South Africa?"

4. "OAP spandex available in sizes 16-32 for your heros." or "Worn out segments of your staircase? Try the new Step-Patch today!"

5. "Hate everyone around you so much that you have had to resort to watching egotistical squabbling tools vying for the attention of the sort of power/money hungry megalomaniac that people would despise if he wasn't involved in light entertainment? Then please, switch off your television and reassess the purpose of your existence."


I guess at the moment television advertisements are designed around what you're watching and who they assume you are. I must be giving off the sort of vibe that hints at an inability not to wet myself and total infatuation with my own period. Clearly no one expects men or sane women to be home at this time of day. This means one of three things:

1. I am a man.
2. I am not sane.
3. I should be doing something more productive with my life.

Upon further inspection I have no visible penis so I must be a woman, unless I'm just quite an unfortunate man. And anyway, I'm wearing a skirt today so I can't be man unless I'm a transvestite. So things aren't conclusive as to whether I'm a man or not. But let's go with not.

I think I'm sane... I've done some sane things this morning. Insane people really can't cook pop tarts at the same time as looking at decent rental places. Insane people would be thinking about licking a rental place and moving into a pop tart box. So I'm sane.

Which sadly means I should be doing something more productive with myself... something like dancing or exercising or meeting new people or choosing a hairstyle to take to this year's Fringe... I will get right on all that...