/OOC

So it's happened. We've been through all of Questionable Content, and it was awesome. We've watched all the comedy we have five times over, and most of the movies at least twice. There's nothing left to stave off /wristing at the ceiling.

We were so desperate, we actually started working on a short horror story. And then it started freaking us out, and we deleted it. Messed up – but you try to imagine being immobilised, with a creepy old woman in a worn pink slip holding a stapler and a butter knife in front of you. We got as far as what she slowly and fumbly did to the poor boy's toenails with her feeble, nigh crippled, hands. Veins pale blue beneath porcelain skin, backlit against fluorescent light from the doorway. Her eyes never once leaving yours, shining points you can just make out through eyes clouded with tears, because it hurts. But so slowly, with each feeble twist...

And you thought having an imagination was a good thing.

But yes. After a bit, we realised that though we've been saying that our behaviour has been severely OOC lately, we just took it as inexplicable, and insurmountable. That doesn't need to be true. It's still emotional logic, and can be broken down into component parts and analysed.

It doesn't change our feelings about the situation. We just never thought we had feelings beyond, "No, you fuck off." before. And all that's happened in less than a month would have even Hitler crying while listening to Frank Sinatra and morosely feeding pigeons in the park. And he probably would have shaved that ridiculous moustache.

But we think we've probably been a bit of a jerk to everyone concerned. Go, you pronoun confusions. But yes, we intend to scale it down a bit. If we can be, "Oh...I suppose so," about most things, why not a situation we can't help? Sort of like that Chinese man who was buried in rubble from the earthquake, and survived by eating his cigarettes and drinking his pee. Except less gross. "I tried to encourage everyone around me to drink their own pee too, but they wouldn't listen," is not something we hope to ever have to say.

Well, that was therapeutic. Now to figure out the meaning of life in a similar fashion.

Voltron, assemble.