Done!

PryON has to pick from these tasks and blogaboutit:
1. Read a book that you've never read before.
2. Get laid.
3. Get dangerously high.

It took a while to get that book read. There were a few distractions. For instance I got dangerously high and laid several times since starting it.

"Yes Man" by Danny Wallace.
Fucking good book. Danny meets a random guy who might be God... or not... who says he should say "yes" more so he takes it to the extreme until the end of the year by saying "yes" to everything.
Finally finished it today and I recommend it.

There might be more details about the other two 'challenges' buried somewhere. I might just leave "enn elle bee eff tee double-you dot com" here if you're all that curious about such things.

Singing 'The Hampster Dance'

Does this count as a blog post?

Doesn't matter anyway because I'm not due one until I do my task so shut da fuck out.

Running out of Internetz

It's dat feel [yeah, I know Internetters' sp33k, cz I coo like that] after you've spent 55 out of the last 72 hours wallowing in your own filth, eating nothing but cereal, hula hoops and cold pizza, peeing and pooing very little and sleeping less; addicted to one flash game after another and in between, checking facebook, reddit and various image boards for some funny fucking shit... to repost on facebook so your 'friends' will 'like' you (they think you're such a fuckin' twat btw) where you finally admit that out of the fifty tabs that are open (and you flick through every one to double check, and close NONE) that there kind of isn't a whole heck of a lot of stuff left to 'do' on the Internet for the moment and maybe you could consider a proper sleep, possibly even a shower or fuck forbid going outside for some reason?!

This was a one sentence post.
Oh, now it's two.
...Oh, wait....

Reaching for the Broken Lighter

Yet again, I find myself surrounded by at least a dozen fucking lighters scattered on my desk, as if the Gods of Cancer themselves have puked up this colorful mess of lighters as a form of happy persuasion to get me to smoke more. It does look quite pretty, I have to admit... And I just can't resist pretty things, being the pathetic little girl that I am.

You'd think though that if they were that insistent on me smoking, they would at least arrange them in such a way that I could grab one that works in a single attempt without having to pick up about five before I get to one that works. Gets kinda irritating, as I'm sure you can imagine. I bet they all have a good ol' giggle about it when I'm AFK as well.... The bastards....

Of course, the hunt for a working lighter is only half of the battle. It's also a case of finding a cigarette box that isn't fucking empty. Every time, I have to pick up the boxes of my Sterling Superkings strewn across my desk with the rest of the shit, give them each a bit of a shake to see if anything rattles 'til I'm juggling boxes and lighters all over the fucking place, before I finally find the one that's not empty. 

So in the end, it just becomes the routine I have to endure every time I wanna suck on a cigarette for a few minutes. But at least I get a good prize at the end of it all. And I like to count all this excessive flapping of arms as part of my daily exercise. And that's always nice.

We should blog about it.

About six or seven times a day, us two tell each other "you should blog about that" or similar regarding some or other trivial and banal crap we're ranting about to one another.


Now we are taking this to its right and proper conclusion and will blog about it. So there.


da roolz:
Every time we tell each other to blog about some bullshit we put it in the appropriate list on the sides there.
Over the course of the week, each of us chooses two things from the list and .... (wait for it...) ...blogaboutit.


bonus tasks:
Once a week we post three tasks (anything from "spread shit all over your chest and masturbate until climax in a public place" to "vacuum your fucking room already") for each other, one of which must be chosen, done and blogged about.


That's about it. Enjoy fucktards.