i woke up at 4:30 a.m. from a vivid dream in which i was an actress in an improv group. i had just finished a scene in which i had deactivated a robot disguised as a 40 something housewife. then i began to rehash the situation with my improv group. at 4:30 in the morning, this was hilarious to me. and it made absolute sense. it went like this (pretty much exactly like this, because i woke up and scribbled it down through squinty eyes):
"killed a 40 year old housewife robot the other day. yeah, dumped some glue down her shirt and she short-circuited. why is it that when we find ourselves in a situation like this, our first instinct is to kill? It's never, you know, 'yo, bitch, make me french toast every morning for the next 45 years.' it's always kill. and always with something completely inept like a colored pencil or something. 'you will not conquer me. I WILL NOW STAB YOUR ROBOT HEART WITH A COLORED PENCIL.' colored pencil, elmer's glue, whatever. Fuck. you can't think to negotiate 45 years worth of french toast, but you think you can end a robot take over with a colored pencil?!"
...
guess you had to be there.
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