So, after the roaringly successful interview with myself yesterday (it was published in four magazines and adapted the film rights were sold to Paramount) I decided to continue the interview. I caught up with myself while I was staggering out of bed this morning. (PS. The previous comments in brackets may be a slight exaggeration)
Me: Hey, I just have a few more questions…
Me: GAH! Fuck! What the hell are you doing in my house?
Me: Well, I live here.
Me: Oh yeah.
Me: So, anyway. I was wondering what you thought about the idea of beer in kegs instead of in bottles?
Me: Oh, now that’s just harsh. You know damn well I feel crap his morning, and it’s almost exclusively because you can’t figure out how many quiet beers you’ve had while cleaning the house when they’re not in a specifically sized bottle.
Me: I know, I just wanted to hear you say it so that I could say, “Ha-ha!”
Me: Fuck you. Now let me get some breakfast.
Me: No, no. More questions. Now, let’s see… anything interesting happen last night?
Me: Look, can we do this while I make breakfast?
Me: Sure, I guess. Can you make me some too?
Me: Fine.
Me: So, last night.
Me: Yeah, right. Well, last night the building fire alarm went off at about 11pm or so. Real loud. At first I thought it was somehow my fault, but then I realised one was going off in every apartment, and people were running downstairs.
Me: Bet that was fun.
Me: Yeah. Watching 15+ people stagger downstairs in various forms of undress, looking bleary, only to find a very embarrassed looking woman down there before us and a fire engine filled with fellas storming the place. “I think it was my fault… there was lots of steam,” says the concerned woman.
Me: Steam? Why in the fuck would steam set off a smoke alarm?
Me: I know, right? No sense in it. I mean, the saying doesn’t go, “There’s no steam without fire,” does it? But apparently, according to our volunteer fire warden dude or whatever he is, they also respond to steam. Well, most of them do. The ones in the bathrooms don’t.
Me: Well that’s bloody good.
Me: Yeah. And what’s more – hey, do you want tabasco with your eggs?
Me: Hmm? Oh, yes please.
Me: So, yeah, there’s more – they also respond to FLY SPRAY, apparently!
Me: Fly spray?
Me: Yeah, or kitchen grease spray. Anything with a propellant. The stupid things can’t tell the difference!
Me: I’m not sure if that’s good to know or not.
Me: Yeah. I smell a script coming along…
Me: That’s not a script, that’s your toast. It’s burning.
Me: Oh, fuck.
Me: Do you want me to cover up the smoke alarm so it doesn’t set off the building fire alarm again?
Me: Please.
[Segment deleted]
Me: Those were good eggs.
Me: Thanks. So, I’m going to have a quick shower. You’re not going to follow me in there, are you?
Me: Well I don’t have much choice, really. But can you just, uh… now… for the readers at home… what’s your favourite egg recipe, and do you think it affects your filmmaking?
Me: Fuck OFF!
Me: I was just… hey! What’s your favourite colour?
Me: FUCK OFF! I’m trying to take a shower-
Me: Fuck isn’t a colour.
Me: GAH! Go AWAY! I mean, I’ve heard of imaginary friends, but this is RIDICULOUS.
[Segment deleted]
Me: Do you want me to put some cream on that? I didn’t mean to bruise you so hard.
Me: Just go away.
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