Yeah, we’ve come to a decision that it’s time to quit backing out slowly and just straight-up walk away from Soupyrotica. It’s not been a long trip, but we’ve had fun and we hope you have too.
From the limited research we’ve done (“Holy crap dude, this has 400 notes.” “Want to see who reblogged it?” “Nope.”), there’s been more of a response than we thought possible, and the feedback from our friends has been pretty positive, but ultimately, we’re calling it a day and here’s why.
Unlike Family Guy, we do not believe the secret to comedy is repetition. Frankly, we’re running out of ideas and we all have lives and jobs and more important things to do than sit around thinking up ways of spinning out what’s basically a one-joke blog (ie “har har it’s like boniverotica except about Soupy lol”). That, and Soupy’s cool and we’re starting to feel kind of creepy.
So this is goodnight Soupyrotica, but if you enjoyed our attempt at being funny on the Internet, keep your eyes on Nick’s blog for news of anything else we do. Alternatively, hit him up if you want to complain about picture stealing (we’re really, really sorry guys. Please don’t call in a lolsuit. Mind you, that ‘Soupy for President’ picture is the best thing any of us have seen, ever.) or just want to check out the pop punk/hip hop/emocore/literature shit he posts.
I’m laid up in bed with the ‘flu, and Soupy is sitting at my bedside with his ukulele, making up a song about all the fun stuff we’re going to do when I’m better.
Soupy fell asleep on the couch, notebook in hand. When he woke up, he said ‘It feels like something’s missing from these lyrics, but I’m stuck. What would Ginsberg do? Actually, scratch that, I don’t want to start taking drugs.’
Me and Soupy made a huge batch of brownies. We’re going to deliver them to the homeless people around town.
Every time Soupy goes out on his bike, a neighborhood cat follows him home. Today, Soupy picked the cat up and put him in the basket on the front of his bike. Soupy scratched the cat’s ears and said ‘I’d love to let you stay, but your have a name tag that says you don’t live here.’
Soupy is using some of his downtime to coach a kickball team made up of the neighborhood children. He came home sweaty and laughing. To my delight, he said ‘I can’t wait until we have some kids of our own.’
Instead of making the bed for us, soupy took all the bedclothes into the kitchen and made a den for us under the table.
Soupy has been hard at work all afternoon, writing the pilot episode of a sitcom. The last thing he said before he started was ‘I’m so over these lame shows on TV. I’m going to write one and it’ll be all about you.’
I came home to find Soupy waiting on the porch. ‘I loaded the car,’ he said. ‘Let’s go camping and not tell anyone where we go. I just want to be alone with you.’
We’ve been taking advantage of the good weather and having everyone over to hang out. After everyone left, Soupy and me are cleaning up the yard. He hugs me from behind and whispers softly into my ear ‘Have you ever had sex on a Slip ‘n Slide?’