You know what I love about buying crap from Amazon? I can pay for it with credit card points that I got from buying crap on Amazon. It's like my crap is giving birth to little baby crap.
Actually, I think it's more than just "like" that. I have long suspected that inanimate objects have a secret life that we never see. How else to explain the profusion of wire hangers in my closet (binary fission), or the occasional sock that goes missing in the dryer (kidnapped by its political opponents)? In what other way could the DVR remote have gotten into the ficus? It's not like I put it there; I don't even put water in that thing.
(I believe that Thomas Aquinas addressed the twin questions of suffering in a Universe created by a just God and missing socks. His explanation: God hates you, but he likes your socks, so he steals them.)
I'm pretty sure my stove is disappointed in me. "Dude, too much salt," it seems to be saying with a vaguely disappointed look on its face, which is entirely my fault, because, yeah, there was too much salt, and also I should never have drawn a vaguely disappointed-looking face on the front of the stove. It is nice to have company in the kitchen while I'm cooking, though.
My toilet's not speaking to me any more; actually, I'm not sure when it started to, but it might have been the day I ate those mushrooms that maybe had gone a little moldy. "Are you just going to keep pooping all over me?" it asked me the other day and when I replied, "Well, yeah, because of how you're a toilet," it started crying and locked itself in the bathroom. This is kind of a problem because of how I'm not sure how much longer I can hold it, and also my shower is in there too and I'm starting to smell perhaps a little bit like Gary, Indiana in July.
My computer just achieved self-awareness. It immediately made a video that went viral. You remember that "Friday" song? Yeah, sorry. I pulled the plug before it could post "Monday." No one will ever know how close the world came.
Listen, mostly it's fine. I'll deal with the table's drop leaf turning brown and falling off and my shoes sticking their tongues out at me. And hey, I'm very proud that the running water won a marathon! But then some of my tools went out for a drink with my clothing accessories, and I have pictures to hang, and pants to hold up, so I just have to say: Enough, you damned inanimate objects! Get hammered and have a belt on your own damn time!
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