And your hairy mates
Sep. 10th, 2008 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgFlist, meet Trevor. Trevor, meet flist.
Trevor is a smelly freeloading backpacker type who a year ago chose to take up residence on BB's cranial couch. He wasn't invited, but snuck in quietly under the radar. Despite the lack of invitation he has not proven to be powerless. He also seems quite fond of garlic and shows no fear of mirrors. At best he glazes over at the sight of Christian religious icons.
Trevor has been politely invited to leave on more than one occasion. Nuclear weapons were deployed to this purpose, as were various forms of biological and chemical warfare. No good. There he sat, racking up huge phone bills, drinking all the milk and leaving his socks and cigarette butts lying all over the place.
Trevor stayed put, although he did modify his behaviour slightly. He washed his socks occasionally, and emptied the ashtray, and generally settled in for the long haul. He became a fixture in our lives. Hard to ignore, no-one you'd choose as a houseguest under even the most extreme conditions of student poverty, but there.
Then he got careless again. Socks appeared. Ashtrays overflowed. Milk vanished. Mates appeared, a whole crowd of them. On the floor, in the hallway, in the bathroom. Not much room for BB any more.
Flist (incorporating unlj'd invisible internet friends and associates) is a collective resource of creativity, strength, and wisdom. I'd like to write more about how much you all mean to me, but the warm fuzzy is not with me right now.
I have a request, flist. Share with me the means by which you would deal with Trevor and his ilk. A sharp eviction letter, a particularly messy method of mass murder, or angry incoherent sweary shouting. Draft your favourite heros or villains and make it a fanfic. Work out some personal issues and share the venom. Do your best; do your absolute worst.
Don't be sorry. Be BAD. Illustrations welcome.
Trevor is a smelly freeloading backpacker type who a year ago chose to take up residence on BB's cranial couch. He wasn't invited, but snuck in quietly under the radar. Despite the lack of invitation he has not proven to be powerless. He also seems quite fond of garlic and shows no fear of mirrors. At best he glazes over at the sight of Christian religious icons.
Trevor has been politely invited to leave on more than one occasion. Nuclear weapons were deployed to this purpose, as were various forms of biological and chemical warfare. No good. There he sat, racking up huge phone bills, drinking all the milk and leaving his socks and cigarette butts lying all over the place.
Trevor stayed put, although he did modify his behaviour slightly. He washed his socks occasionally, and emptied the ashtray, and generally settled in for the long haul. He became a fixture in our lives. Hard to ignore, no-one you'd choose as a houseguest under even the most extreme conditions of student poverty, but there.
Then he got careless again. Socks appeared. Ashtrays overflowed. Milk vanished. Mates appeared, a whole crowd of them. On the floor, in the hallway, in the bathroom. Not much room for BB any more.
Flist (incorporating unlj'd invisible internet friends and associates) is a collective resource of creativity, strength, and wisdom. I'd like to write more about how much you all mean to me, but the warm fuzzy is not with me right now.
I have a request, flist. Share with me the means by which you would deal with Trevor and his ilk. A sharp eviction letter, a particularly messy method of mass murder, or angry incoherent sweary shouting. Draft your favourite heros or villains and make it a fanfic. Work out some personal issues and share the venom. Do your best; do your absolute worst.
Don't be sorry. Be BAD. Illustrations welcome.
