I’ve been playing a lot of Angry Birds lately. I know I’m like three years behind on this, but better late than never right?
Now as I go through my daily life, I picture slinging a bird at whatever it is that’s annoying me. Did a car pull in front of me too quick? I’ll use one of the black birds that turns into a bomb on them. Yeah, that’ll teach ’em!
The other day I was sure that my soap in my soap dish was one of those offensive pigs glaring at me.
At first was particularly unimpressed with the plotline. How could the concept of stolen eggs capture America’s — and the world’s — heart?? Perplexing.
I kept playing. I don’t now why. Something inside of me rejoiced every pop of a pig and toppled tower. Death, vengeance, destruction. Adorable graphics. Somehow the perfect combination.
Last night the boyfriend and I were sitting on a couch when we heard a noise. It sounded as if something or someone were home with us. He went off to investigate. My mind immediately leapt to the worst-case scenario. It must be an intruder!
I glanced around the room for a weapon. My eyes fell on a guitar and I visualized smashing it over the intruder’s head.
“That won’t do,” I thought. “But what would?”
“I know!!” I thought in all seriousness, “A slingshot and a bird!!”