Here are a series of texts with humorous confessions, and a poll at the end.
Office vending machines are the prime area to communicate with the future robot leaders of this world (see: this, this, this, this – honestly this blog is basically pizza, cats, and my fear of the robot apocalypse coupled with leaving notes on vending machines).
And on that note, here is a hilarious update on that front:
That’s what happens when you screw with the robots, duder.
It’s a hostile world when the vending machines stop upholding their side of the bargain. I heard somewhere from something online that crazy scientists are creating smarter robots. But I’d venture to say that they’re already smart enough and that this is a rise of the proletariat sort of situation that we have on our hands.
I’d consider raising the vending machine’s salary and giving it benefits before it responds with greater prejudice.
Today’s post is brought to you by my friend Shawn.
Earlier I received this text from Shawn followed by a picture
“Apparently the robots decreed I am to live when they take over, as well”
“LOL, so I guess we are the breeding stock for the slave labor of the future”
Good to see that the robots will allow me a friend when the hostile takeover occurs.
Remember when I found the quality control sticker on my person? I was convinced that the robots are coming to take over? This might have been met with head shaking, or consternation pertaining to my paranoia – potential schizophrenia?
Well, I just looked down at my arm and saw this:
Watch your asses, befriend your snack machines, speak sweetly to your computer.
I’ve always suspected that earth was mere moments away from the robots becoming self-aware. There are suspicious “vending” machines at my job, which I believe might be agents of robot destruction just awaiting the robot apocalypse. Since I live in fear of the work vending machines and the coming carnage, I’ve attempted to become friends with the robots (or alien robots? Maybe a Transformer sorta thing going on here?) and be their vessel once they are sentient.
And the day is nigh. Because when I woke up this morning this was on me:
Generally, outside of my many tattoos I don’t put any stickers on my person unless they are of the Lisa Frank variety
This is not Lisa Frank. The above sticker is something all together UNLIKE Lisa Frank.
Well I passed the robot quality assurance test: I’ve passed their first round.
Which can only mean that the day of the robot takeover is closer. I am a-okay in their book but you should probably start sucking up to your own vending machines
You might be surprised to find out that You Life is fully employed by an outside agency. And it isn’t as a representative for a spirits distributor. No, my daytime job is both bureaucratic and depressing. I am like a latter, female, Harvey Pekar (without the cancer, RIP dude).
And like any office job I am required to password protect…well, everything.
And then change my password.
After all the typing, and passwords, and computers, and numbers I begin to feel more like a slightly sentient robot than a human. So I made a new password to reflect that: Robots love us!
When the computers become self-aware I will be their vessel. Hear me, oh robot gods!