This has not been my most creative year at all, at all. It hurts more than pain to admit that there are other people in the world who fluke their way into coming up with an idea that I would have eventually come up with, if there wasn’t a Bon Jovi to hate in this world. First I found out that all those years of learning voodoo didn’t work when Jon Bon Jovi’s vocal chords continued to sonically assault society as we know it. Then I found out that becoming the Patron Saint of Mockers wasn’t on the cards. Today just added insult to the painful injury when I held my hands up and agreed to agree that someone came up with a more interesting way to celebrate a birthday than I could ever have imagined:
I thought it was going to be a romantic rendezvous between the prospective car buyer and the used car salesman.
In a Tarantino way, it probably is!
Like it, and also relieved. I thought it was going to be a contest over who could survive a test drive with the highest blood alcohol count (no stealing, my idea).
There’s no fear of me stealing your idea Tom. I have more ideas running around my massively confused mind than there are grains of sand in a desert that became impregnated with lots of little baby deserts!