I liked the exercises we did last class.  I actually liked my spit-fire ideas a lot. I’m gonna type them up here so when I scroll through my blog every now and then I can read over them.

What would who do with Sriracha? 

Snoop Doggie Dog put it on the lip of his blunt.

Lady Gaga smeared it on her cheeks as blush.

Picasso got it in his eye.

Big Bird snagged it off the shelf because of its sex appeal.

Mr. Rogers finally snapped and squeezed it at all the kids.

New Point-of-View

Ice cream, sweating bullets, holding personal fans.

A little conquistador man dunked a tortilla in the Sriracha and is waving it at a little bull down the aisle.

The flavor packets across the aisle are nervous and losing the color in their face.

Factory worker, setting

Tour walks into Sriracha factory, mouths drop as they look at the start of the conveyor belt and it’s a rooster pooping out Sriracha into containers.

Little blob circle men are the factory workers.  They bounce around working.  They blobs all start out white. Their mouths are always closed because the factory has a big spoon machine for each new batch of Sriracha they make that gets shoved into one of the mouths of the pale blobs.  This is how they test the heat of the Sriracha.  The blobs have to turn red, not pink or anything inbetween.

What does a thing think?

The dining chair shoved itself far from the table.  There’s an empty box of cellophane next to it.  It plastic wrapped itself completely.

The Sriracha bottle lets out a cock-a-doodle-doo every time you twist open the green cap.

The Ramen feels the Sriracha touch it and forms a heart with one of the cooked noodles.

Extremely close look

There’s a mariachi band band battling asian men aggressively playing oriental music in each molecule of Sriracha.

 

 

 

 

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