What Is The Primary Main Objective?
The primary main objective is to defeat the evil power, ohhhh?
It's 3:30pm on Friday and I have ABsolutely nothing to do ... yet I'm not allowed on gmail. Fantastic.
Have any of you played Kakuro? Well, when I was at my last assignment - you know, the one with the babe-a-licious babes - I was doing sudoku because I was so bored. One of the aforementioned a-licious asked me if I liked doing sudoku. I flirted with the idea of asking if that was some sort of Kama Sutra position, but decided against it, lying that I did indeed enjoy the sudoku and wasn't just doing it because I was bored to penis drip. Well, she turned me onto Kakuro and I think it's awesomer, though I'm pretty much a master of ceremonies by this point.
I'm also on the threshold of cracking the 50% barrier in Free Cell. And I've beaten Expert Minesweeper Without Right Clicking about a million times. And, really, who ever gets tired of the old standby Solitare? I imagine they would be the same kinds of foolish people who get sick of hearing the same Top 40 radio station day in and day out replaying the same loop of songs every three hours for an entire prisonesque workday. Those stupid fools! I LOVE MY LIFE!!!!!
By the way, have we all heard the new Britney Spears song by now? Does anyone else get the Timmy from South Park vibe whenever she croons into the chorus? Geebulable-ebulable GIM-MAY GIM-MAY GIM-MAY!
Maybe it's ah'cause she's so r'tarded?
Maybe it's ah'cause her mouth is so full of Big Macs?
I used to think that when you died and went to Hell, you'd be back in high school, decked out in full football pads in 85 degree heat, running an endless lap around multiple soccer fields, up dirt hills, and around a track circling a football field. In the center of that football field? A row of pristine fountains filled with blue-as-the-sky, 35 degree ice water; but the coach of the football team is obviously Satan and the next water break is in another 9,000 millenia.
But, since I'm no longer in high school or completely out of shape and have actually learned to appreciate running, I've decided Hell is actually sitting at a cubicle, with an out-of-print laptop that blocks any communication with the outside world and runs painfully slow on all other websites, and a radio on the other side of the cubicle wall playing New York's 103.5 The Beat (Music That Makes You Feel GOOD!). Of course, there's no actual work to do - because work would be something that's somewhat engaging to anybody with half a brain - but whenever you stop pretending to work for more than five seconds (which means shuffling the same papers over and over, taking out and replacing the same paper clips, writing faux post-it notes for things), the disembodied head of your snivelling excuse for a boss appears over your shoulder to give you the third degree and you can't say anything because you A. need cash and B. can't afford to get shitcanned from this temp agency.
It's now 4:07pm and time has flown south for the winter. You have no idea how badly I'm pulling for a third trip to the crapper.
It's 3:30pm on Friday and I have ABsolutely nothing to do ... yet I'm not allowed on gmail. Fantastic.
Have any of you played Kakuro? Well, when I was at my last assignment - you know, the one with the babe-a-licious babes - I was doing sudoku because I was so bored. One of the aforementioned a-licious asked me if I liked doing sudoku. I flirted with the idea of asking if that was some sort of Kama Sutra position, but decided against it, lying that I did indeed enjoy the sudoku and wasn't just doing it because I was bored to penis drip. Well, she turned me onto Kakuro and I think it's awesomer, though I'm pretty much a master of ceremonies by this point.
I'm also on the threshold of cracking the 50% barrier in Free Cell. And I've beaten Expert Minesweeper Without Right Clicking about a million times. And, really, who ever gets tired of the old standby Solitare? I imagine they would be the same kinds of foolish people who get sick of hearing the same Top 40 radio station day in and day out replaying the same loop of songs every three hours for an entire prisonesque workday. Those stupid fools! I LOVE MY LIFE!!!!!
By the way, have we all heard the new Britney Spears song by now? Does anyone else get the Timmy from South Park vibe whenever she croons into the chorus? Geebulable-ebulable GIM-MAY GIM-MAY GIM-MAY!
Maybe it's ah'cause she's so r'tarded?
Maybe it's ah'cause her mouth is so full of Big Macs?
I used to think that when you died and went to Hell, you'd be back in high school, decked out in full football pads in 85 degree heat, running an endless lap around multiple soccer fields, up dirt hills, and around a track circling a football field. In the center of that football field? A row of pristine fountains filled with blue-as-the-sky, 35 degree ice water; but the coach of the football team is obviously Satan and the next water break is in another 9,000 millenia.
But, since I'm no longer in high school or completely out of shape and have actually learned to appreciate running, I've decided Hell is actually sitting at a cubicle, with an out-of-print laptop that blocks any communication with the outside world and runs painfully slow on all other websites, and a radio on the other side of the cubicle wall playing New York's 103.5 The Beat (Music That Makes You Feel GOOD!). Of course, there's no actual work to do - because work would be something that's somewhat engaging to anybody with half a brain - but whenever you stop pretending to work for more than five seconds (which means shuffling the same papers over and over, taking out and replacing the same paper clips, writing faux post-it notes for things), the disembodied head of your snivelling excuse for a boss appears over your shoulder to give you the third degree and you can't say anything because you A. need cash and B. can't afford to get shitcanned from this temp agency.
It's now 4:07pm and time has flown south for the winter. You have no idea how badly I'm pulling for a third trip to the crapper.