Is anyone else having one of those "blah" days? Maybe it is just me, but I am just bored out of my mind today.
I've also come to the conclusion that my little blurb about myself in the sidebar is a crock of shit. I mean, even I look at it and go "what the fuck was I on when I wrote that?" I sound like a bubbly cheerleader, and there is no fucking way I am a bubbly cheerleader.
With that in mind, and keeping with the fact that I have a very "random" personality, what do you guys want to know about me? I don't want any of those "Where did you grow up?" "How old are you?" "What are your hopes and dreams for the world?" "How long did you live in Antarctica?" "Who is your role model?" type of questions. I am not a beauty queen, and this is not a fucking pagent blog (although I am sure you can find one or the other here). So, hit me with your best, random questions in the comments, and I will do my best to answer them.
P.S. If you ask me anything even remotely like the questions I asked you to NOT ask me, I reserve the right to...well...I like to vary the details a bit but the end result is with me feeling alot better, and you feeling like shit (or dead). Got it? Good! =)
Put the following random objects in order of importance to you from least to most important:
Umbrella
Mustard Packet
Jimmy Fallon
Sharpie (black ink)
Blank CD
Coffee Cup
Potato Masher
Sock with a hole in it
Handgun
Sharpie (red ink)
wire hanger
The one night you decide to play the Swedish chef and cook up a storm in the kitchen, one of the following, or ALL, will happen:
1. The leeks that you bought the day before for your creme potato and leek soup will be bad, causing you to stop everything and go to the store to get new ones.
2. The ovens that you had pre-heating for your steaks, bread bowls, and pastries will not be heating by the time you go to use them. In fact, they will be dead. No amount of "fucking piece of shit," "damn fucking oven," "fucking piece of shit," resetting fuse box, "fucking piece of shit," "damn fucking oven," "fucking piece of shit, "resetting fuse box, "MOTHER FUCKER!" or any combination thereof will revive it.
3. Kicking the oven will hurt you more than the oven. In fact, your toe will be bruised, and the oven won't even have a dent in it.
4. You will have to do the "chopping block ballet" which involves dancing around an old lady putting to-and-fro through "your" kitchen with her walker. Typically, every time this occurs you have a knife, or a spoon, or another cooking implement in your hand. Also, the old lady will on occasion pass behind you as you draw your foot back to kick the oven, and your heel will strike the wheel of her walker. Old lady will keep moving as the kick wasn't enough to phase her, and your throbbing foot leads to the pirouette portion of the "chopping block ballet."
5. When it comes to cleaning up the kitchen, the sink faucet will choose this time to turn into a gushing geyser. Although saying "fucking piece of shit," makes one feel a bit better, the only solution is to turn the water to it off, towel dry the kitchen, and ring the plumber in the morning. To make things better, one could've charged admission to a wet t-shirt viewing for horny neighbours in order to pay for plumber and new oven.
6. The oven will still be dead the following morning, and your foot will hurt like hell.
Vichysoise(or was it?) and Steaks? Were you cooking for a boy? :)
Sounds good, can I come for dinner some time? I will bring the beef and good Washington wine if you cook. I am glad to hear that you got your research scholarship detail and that you are gonna be a lab rat whenever you want. Since you are in genetics and such, if I bring you some bits of my Regal, can you make him a new leg? Keep him in your thoughts-he may be Nevicular, and I am not going to put him through the pain of that! ;( Take care!
Laurie: You're welcome...and the oven is still dead btw. I just felt like telling someone. I want sympathy, damnit!
Moket: No, I wasn't cooking for a bloke (this time), but for gran and I. I personally just wanted the soup (it was just a creme of potato and leek soup), but gran wanted the steaks. In the end it turned out to be a more elaborate (and stressful) event than I wanted. As for dinner...I'll trade you dinner for trying out your TB's in the arena.
As for making a new leg, my genetics skillz aren't that good yet.
And Damn, Nevicular? Did you just find out or are they running tests still? Shit, poor guy.
This story is sponsored by the pet of the week, who seems to fit the current mood of this blog. Please do us all a favour, and visit him. God knows his content right now is better than mine. At least you'd get a good read.
Not knowing what to do, the princess stared at this beast with horror: for she thought the meme-beast was the most horrifying thing she had yet to lay her eyes on.
"What should I do?" she asked herself.
"Should I panic, and run away, with my arms waving frantically to beat it off," she continued,"or, should I embrace it, kiss it, and hope that the beast turns into a dashing, handsome prince who will end up knocking-me up, leaving me with screaming little monsters for the rest of my life?"
During all this interal conflict within the princess, the meme-beast stopped, stared at her, and asked, "What the Fuck is up with this bitch? She isn't even looking at me, fearing my very presence. Oh no, she is just sitting there, off in some other place." He continued staring at the princess for a moment, and then thought to himself,"What an air-head."
By the time he had concluded that the princess was an airhead, the princess decided it was better to run off screaming, waving her arms everywhere, as opposed to facing a life of being knocked-up by the meme-beast, and have a life, thereafter, filled with little, screaming, baby meme-beasts.
And thus, the princess and the meme-beast went their seperate ways, to never see, or speak of each other again.
If you can still play a successful game of spider solitaire, and type in coherant English without reverting to Swedish, you've not drunk enough alcohol.
I finished the bottle of Merlot: now to work on one of three options: Vodka, Brandy, or Irish Creme.
It is PERFECT for cramps, ovarian cysts, headaches, golf, driving, equitation...shit...well...everything.
Now, where the Hell did I put that bottle of Vodka?
NOTE: Shit, I can still proofread this damn post. I've got to drink mooooooooooooooooooooooooore!
P.S. Will someone shoot me? THNX!
P.P.S. or is itP.S.S.? Oh, whatever the fuck it is... oh shit I forgot what I was going to type. Believe me...it was going to be quite profound. Damn, I have to pee.
OH, WAIT! I REMEMBER! Yeah...I'm not afraid to make a total ass of myself, as if you haven't noticed.
No...that wasn't as eloquent and profound as I would've liked, but either deal with it, or piss off.
I love my sisters to death, and they will attest to this. My baby sister has been reading HorseHell since I began it. She has never commented on this "site"...
Until now.
Now, I'd like to give her the benefit of the doubt, and say that she just adores me so much, that she decided to break her 14 month-long habit of NOT commenting, but I know better.
I'd like to say it was because she's come over her shyness of breaking out her kick-ass English skillz on the world wide web, but I know better.
Hell, I'd like to say it was because she was just bored and figured: "Oh, what the hell," but I know better.
Yes, I have a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with the drugs the surgeon sent her home on after her oral surgery on Friday.
Yeah, it takes DRUGS to get my sister to comment on my site.
bah, see i dug out my whatchamacalit. um..hang on lemme google. Ok French Press coffee maker thingy. I do that with ground espresso beans..not a bad replacement really! lol
i had to block HH in my firewall for a short spell, to like..try to break teh addiction. But then i hacked into my own firewall and fixed it and now i am freee! freeeee i say!
wow ya, i really should look into that sleep thing.
you know what sis i love you too but that has not affected me really and i have decided to use my thougths and words to finally comment on your blogs. yes i have usually read them but these last 2 days i have considered commenting for once. yet you decide to poke fun at me finally saying something.
your sis
Before I begin, I have a kick-ass renter. I love this gal's snark and brutal honesty, and was damn-well-flattered that she applied to rent from me. Yeah, see, I've been a closet-stalker of her's for quite some time. I finally decided to put away the binoculars and link her. So, go check out her blog. It is that square with the blog picture in it. This is brain-science, so let me make it easy for you:
1. Take mouse and put the cute little arrow or whatever the hell you have for a cursor over the picture under the "Pet of the Week" header image.
2. Click the "left" button if your mouse is set on the default settings. If you are a dysfunctional bitch like myself, and have it rearranged the other way, click the "right" button. Hell, just click the buttons, one will get you there eventually.
3. Sit in awe as her blog pops-up, and READ.
_________________________________________________
I have been busy. Actually, busy doesn't even describe it. More like running-at-five-fucking-hundred-kilometres-an-hour would be more like it. Oh, and don't forget to add the sudden stop due to a collision with a wall at the end of the route. Yeah, they forgot to tell me about that one. Assholes.
I have read your comments, and I appreciate every.last.one.of.them. They made me laugh, made me cry, made me want to shoot myself in the foot, and made me want to roll my eyes while jumping around my room naked.
Regardless, since I've missed so much while I've been avoiding an academic meltdown, I figure, why not answer your comments en masse? Hell, maybe I'll even get to share with you all some valuable lessons that I have learned over the course of my short, uneventful life:
A. I used to teach pre-school for a spell, and I learned some valuable lessons while working with those little miniature terrors we call "children". One was when it came to throwing tantrums, you must ignore it. Acknowledging it will cause them to realise "Hey, this fucking works!! Right on!!" and do it incessantly from that point on.
B. Although the term "crazy" is up for debate in my "about" section by many people, those who know me in person would agree with it, and since it is my blog and my interpretation of myself, I AM "crazy". Oh yeah, all the other shit up there is true...so interpret it however you want. If you think it makes me sound like a "skanky-ass-ho", so be it. If you think it makes me sound "hot" give me about five minutes to get ready and I'll be right over.
C. I love pop-tarts. They are a college student's dream come true when it comes to sustenance. Then again, I also love granola bars and milk, but I'll take stock in pop-tarts: they're a kick-ass product.
D. I LOVE a good Merlot. Unfortunately, right now to me a "good" Merlot consists of some cheap-ass 6 USD bottle at the nearby market because I can't afford the 200+USD ones at a winery. I figure, hey, if I don't know what I'm missing, I can't complain.
E. I.LOVE.CHEESE...Brie with a nice bread…mmmm!!! I miss the cheeses in Sweden: so good and so fresh. In the city I lived in, when I would go into the centre of town, there was a cheese factory. However, I did pity the poor bloke who was renting the flat directly above the factory, because it smelled like ass the whole time. I bet when he wanted to get laid, there was no question to what he would say when asked "Your place, or mine?" Then again, after enough vodka...
Nah, she'd still notice.
F. I love reindeer. Reindeer rock. If you are a "reindeer" embrace it! Reindeer aren't "four-footed flying pack mules," they're horny bastards/bitches.
G. Anything having to do with horses, I will read. (Thoroughblog kicks ass. She'll make a great brood-mare.) =)
H. If you came here looking for your medication, I have one question for you: "Do I LOOK like a fucking apothecary?!" Yeah, I've done enough chemistry to write a book on how to make your own controlled substances, but I don't broadcast it. Wait...did the police put you up to this? Is this a test? Am I under surveillance?
I. I love exchanges: even if they aren't requested. I also love my Christmas layout. It puts me in a good mood, even if I'm not getting laid this year. Wait, shit, was that too much information? Hmm...maybe I should rethink this one. Is this a trick question?
J. I did not have sexual relations with the bacteria; they only made it to my ass and had no penetration. SHEEESH! Yeah, next thing I know, someone is going to read this and claim I said I was gang-raped by transformants...
L. If you want to call me "Sydney Bristow", go ahead. I've also been called "Bitch" "Tramp" "Whore" "Slut" "Hey You" "Fucker" "Cunt" and "My Girl". The last one is off limits. Those who try it without authorization WILL be shot.
M. To avoid "drunken" posting, there is one thing you must remember: Don't drink by a computer. The screen looks too damn good after a few glasses, and you can't resist the temptation. It is as simple as that. However, it is funny as Hell when you wake up the next day and ask yourself "What the FUCK did I do last night?!" If anyone else has advice to offer on this one, I would appreciate it.
N. Life is good, 2005 is ending on a GREAT note, and 2006 looks even brighter.
O. The best places to go in Vegas are anywhere there aren't tourists crossing the street in front of moving traffic. Hmm...then again it is pretty damn funny to watch the drunken idiots go flying over your car...
P. I.Love.Python. You made me laugh so hard I think I peed a little. You know who you are. =)
I think that is all for now. Damn, I can't remember the last time I wrote a post this long. Yeah, I've been busy, but I've been thinking of you all. You lot helped me keep a smile on my face through this hellish time of year. You are greatly appreciated! Happy Holidays guys!!!
Wow, it's been WAY to long since I've been over here. Sounds like you've been pretty busy yourself. Love the holiday look, btw! And the bubble wrap rocks! I'm moving you up my list so that I won't be such a stranger! Have a great weekend!
Boy do I understand trying to avoid academic meltdown. I have found that the best solution for this is to finish what you need to then find your favorite stress releaser and do it till you can't walk straight.
Well, now that Sydney Bristow has gone and gotten herself knocked up and married that asshat Ben, I guess I can go ahead and call you Sydney. Incidentally, Garner WAS on my gimme list that my wife and I keep in case one of us ever has an opportunity to get with a celeb.
I will pass that comment to miss Charmy Charmerton along-she was breathing fire tonight(colder than hell here!). One of these days I will post more photos of Timmy-he will make you drool big spittel.
Python is my fallback for all situations when my brain fails to think of something funny. I used to know a lot of those routines by heart(also a nerd at heart), and since I have been back in colllege and there is soooo much more usefull information that will somehow help me in life to be learned, I have aparently deleated some of it-the price of A's aparently.
Glad to know you are alive and well-the city that has a gas station called "terribles" as not eaten you alive.Take care and you definately need to have a few drinks.....
madbull: Get your own damn coffee and leave the poor grieving soul alone!
Last Girl: Good to see you again! And yes, bubble wrap does rock.
Spiritdancerq: I'm still trying to find a "favourite stress releaser" that I have access to. Right now it is bubble baths...but I can't do those until I "can't walk straight". Maybe I can do them until I drown?
Rob: So if I become a celeb, would I be on your gimme list...until I get married to an asshat and get knocked up?
Moket: Please do! I will be honest and say that although I love TB's, I'm a big Holsteiner girl. There has been this one stallion that I just can't get over. He did me in, damnit. Now I will just have to save up a buttload of money to get one. However, before I left Sweden I was really close to getting a TB/Holsteiner colt with kick-ass bloodlines.
Just a reference note-I love Holsteiners too, but I much prefer the sporthorse cross that you were mentioning. A little faster, and 2x as smart(as in, the Holsteiner makes it smarter). Mi madre almost bought one this spring, but as her bargaining skills make her unemployable in the corporate world and as she is a complete dolt, she failed and even at the price, he was a steal. 17'2 chestnut-only thing better is a bay!
And just for you-
"She turned me into a neut...........I got better!"
MMMM Bays! I also like a good black, or a nice dapple. The only problem with the dapple is the damn manure stains they get on their coat. It can be a pain in the ass if they decide to "acquire" them (blanket/sheet aside) when you've had them all nicely bathed the night before for a show.
I'll get myself one, one of these days. I really want to get back into full training and hop into the show circuit again.
Disclaimer:Post was written while under the influence of alcohol. Authour cannot be held fully responsible for following content.
OK, so she can, but she'll tell all complainees to "FUCK OFF"!
That is all. Please enjoy the following post.
So how does this bitch handle stress and avoid an imminent emotional meltdown?
1. Talk with personal "shrink" (of course the fact that he's pretty damn hot helps!).
2. Drink bottle of cheap-ass merlot (poor student!) with gran, and laugh at how insane speech is. Of course one is to drink three glasses more than gran, because we all know gran is innocent and that she can't handle her liquor. (I couldn't let the bottle go to waiste!)
3. Write a post while still working on glass three of cheap-ass merlot. (poor student!) Laugh at how stupid you are going to sound when you re-read the post in the morning.
4. BUBBLEWRAP!!!! (Manic Mode is the best!)
5. Collapse in bed and watch season four of Alias.
6. Dream of hot "shrink" *drool* with heavy Alias themes. Of course it would help if one is kicking hot shrink's ass because he is a baaaad spy of a terrorist group, and then apologising with hot, passionate sex. (Damn alcohol!)
Your shink is hot! thats so unfair, mine is a pleasant 50ish year old woman. very nice but not hot. My dentist however is hot. Well not really hot but attractive and therefore hot by dentist standards.
The toilet in my bathroom has a problem with water mineral deposits, and it gets this black ring around the lip of the toilet where the water comes out when you flush it. Now I've tried to get rid of it, but it just won't budge.
Today, my gran mentioned to me that my toilet was filthy, and that it needed to be clean. I countered that with the fact that I had cleaned it only a few days ago, and that what she was seeing was the mineral deposits. I then wandered off to get some food, thinking that was the end of it.
I walked past my bathroom on the way to my bedroom with my food in hand, when I noticed my bathroom light was on, and my gran was bending over my toilet, scrubbing it with toilet cleaner. Then, to my horror, I saw her begin to add bleach to the mix.
I've worked with my fair share of chemicals, and I know what the proper reaction between cleaners can do. I quickly reiterated that it wasn't going to work, asked her to stop, and exclaimed something about the fumes that the chemical reaction could produce.
She replied by closing me out of my own damn bathroom.
Moments later, I wandered back out to find her finally out of my bathroom (thank GOD!), and digging through the closet that contained all of the cleaning supplies.
Me: What are you doing?
Gran: Looking for this stone I have to get deposits off of toilets. You were right, it was minerals like you said. (Of COURSE I knew I was right!)
Me: It isn't worth the trouble...just leave it alone.
Gran: Oh don't worry, I'll do it while you aren't here.
Me: Just leave it alone...you'll die trying. (Highly probable if she ends up mixing chemicals again.)
Gran: What?! Do you want me to get a new toilet then?!
Me: (hacking up a lung by now due to being sick)No! Just leave it alone!
I then stormed off like a two-year old having a tantrum.
Later I returned to her digging through the cleaning supplies closet preparing for round two: cleaning the rugs.
Grandma's are naturally crazy. Friday night there was a party here for a retiering teacher nana worked with. With no regard for thier dignity several of the young teachers got really, really drunk. As did my mother who kept giving my nana drinks. At one point during the kareoke some of the young teachers were swinging my nana around and she fell onto the heater (that was off THANK GOD) she's ok but then I got in trouble for being angry at the stupidity of those girls. My 83 year old grandmother called me stuffy! For thinking that it was stupid for 20 years olds to be throwing an 80 year old around the room!
Hmm your gran must have been watching 'How Clean is your house'. The UK has loads of these programmes on tv, which makes for some thrilling viewing (note the sarcasim there). Apparently a mixture of lemon juice and borax (available in chemists) left on the stain over night will shift it. Erm hem think I need to get out more!
I agree with pickel-I grew up out in the country, and we had water that was highly ferrous too, and lemon juice and borax worked really well. But it sounds to me like you may have a bad pipe too, as that much iron doesn't sound like just the water. Been there, changed that, not fun.
Your Gran and mine have obsessive disorders in common. Except for my Grams has changed hers, as a stroke has left her without the ability to clean the house from top to bottom on a daily basis.
Now she just nags about kleenex, dinner, and the "space heaters"-dogs.
Your gran is right though I've never done it that way. Some abrasive stone, probably pumice, can be used to get off the mineral desposit without harming the finish. Like I said tho, I've never done that. I've done the method suggested above, mild acid (vinegar in my case) and Borax. Works okay, not great.
Just keep her from mixing cleaners. As you said, it can get explosive. She's not so likely to get hurt but your pipes are another story.
As a child, I grew up reading the following story:
An old Chinaman caught a wonderful bird in his garden one day. Whenever it snapped its beak, gold pieces would fall out of it. But the richer the old man got, the meaner he got. Whenever his servants’ wages were due, he would order them to go to the market to buy him ow and ouch. “If you come back without them, instead of wages you will receive a hundred strokes of the cane,” he would say.
They always preferred to stay at home and lose their pay. Once he took a clever young boy into his service. When his wages became due, the old man sent him to market like the others. “If I bring you ow and ouch, will you give me your magic bird?” the boy asked. The old man grimaced wickedly, but he agreed.
The boy ran into town. On the way he took two gourds, into one of which he put a wasp, in the other a bee. Then he hurried back to his master. “I have brought you ow and ouch,” he called out. “Put your finger in the gourds, and you will see!” As soon as the old man did so, the angry wasp stung him. “Ow, ow!” he cried.
“Did I not tell you, master, that I had brought you ow?” laughed the boy. “Put your finger in the other gourd, for there you will find ouch!” But the old man had had enough. He had to give the boy his magic bird, and he never sent anyone to market for ow and ouch again.
Do I care that I've been defeated? No. Actually, I am quite nonchalant about it. When I found out, I was buried in a biochemistry text-book on the final leg of an all-nighter I was pulling for an exam that day.
Actually, that is why I've taken so long to "react": I've got a shit-load of work right now that takes priority over such trivial things.
Am I going to discuss the comments made? Why? Everyone is entitled to their own interpretation and opinion.
Actually, I figured they were too easy on me, as instead of ripping me a new ass-hole, my innate one is in its same, pristine condition as it was when I entered the "dome".
What the fuck is this "banned bank" that you have up?
When I applied for the "dome" I was aware of the consequences if I lost:
I am also aware of my sentence:
My opinion is again that the judges were too easy on me, and far too kind. I was hoping I'd be defeated so I could have an excuse to not blog and to vacate the site for awhile. Then again, the fact that I lost to a blog as shitty as PMRILY, disallows me the ability to conceal from the world just how shitty my own blog is. Of course, I was well aware of this fact as I had signed up for, and was admitted to the Shitty Blogs Club months ago. It was for this reason that I decided to override the judges length of time from "not exceeding two months" to the full extent of one year (365 days for those of you who are conversion freaks).
The banned bank is my way of having everyone hold me accountable to this, and we all get to watch the time tick on by, and I get to enjoy the excuse to take a break from blogging.
That's right...I am going to be a good, honourable girl and not only increase my sentence time, but take it piecemeally.
You know, someone should really look into the utilisation of adverbs every now and then...
i remembered i already saw the link once in a BE forum. funny, just as before, i thought it was something really impressive to see, something i could have as an inspiration in designing my blog. [since it was recommended by no other than you, miss biologisvensk..]
Ever wake up to find life suddenly taking a huge chomp out of your ass? November means I have a shitload of work due at uni, with my only means of sanity being this damn site.
Am I pathetic? You bet I am.
I wish I could get out there and party, but for now my partying consists of reading loads of scientific journal articles about boring things such as Drosophila development, and drinking copious amounts of coffee.
Yeah, the merlot and vodka get a holiday.
Somewhere I missed the point where I signed up for this academic torture, but in some sick way I enjoy the results. At least I'm getting my application to graduate completed: 5+ years later.
Then there is work, and on top of uni it can be overwhelming, but a girl needs income.
Did I mention that a damn cold is fighting to take over my body?
Combine that with taking care of gran to make sure she doesn't kill herself (a hospital visit within the next two months is due), and you get a winning combination.
Sweden, blogging, sleep, and a nice hot bath never looked better.
Would the person who stole my blue and white striped cami please return it? I know I sleep topless and such, but I would still like to have it back. Contrary to popular belief, I do go about with my breasts covered for at least an hour a day.
So, thief-who-prefers-me-topless, that was very VERY naughty of you!
My friend W.E. tagged me with a meme. I could claim that I didn't know about it and therefore couldn't do it, but that would be a lie. Of course I decided to hop on over to her site last night and saw she had sent me through the gates of meme-Hell. The best part is I get to take five people down with me. Who will it be? Better read on to see if you're damned along with me.
Daria - I need a catty 80's bitch to complete the meme-Hell recon team. Order's up!
Those damn rules:
1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Post the fifth sentence (or closest to it).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions. 5.Tag five other people to do the same thing. I don't want anyone else coming in trying to overthrow us, so tag anyone else and I'll bitch-slap you. ;-)
hmmm..the strike didn't show up in my last post...
it was supposed to say:
ah good..i don't mind giving you
losing my botb credits to you ...at least they're going to a good place ;)
oh yeah...i was already tagged on this Ninja skill meme..i don't have a 23rd post...it was deleted ..i think it just said "this post has been deleted" not much fun there huh? LOL
I'm tired of going to the mall (not that I frequent those places or anything, but every once in a while, I do need clothes) and walking on eggshells because some kid might run into my leg...it's not the kid I give a shit about, it's that I don't want to hear its parents bitch at me for not watching where I'm going.
1. When applying for their service there is a two day turn-around, because they need to bug your home and format your computer keyboard/mouse with electronic sensors/shockgear. Also, they leave you ocular gear through which a laser beam can pass and render the user blind.
2. Everytime you write a new post, you are required to formulate a five question quiz pertaining to that new post.
3. When you surf, you are required to wear that nifty ocular gear and maintain contact with either the mouse or the keyboard. Remember those sensors and bugs they installed? They'll KNOW if you aren't following the rules.
4. You are required to read the blogs you surf upon for 30 seconds. Fail to remain at a site for 30 seconds, and you will recieve not only a high voltage shock through your mouse/keyboard, but the laser beams in the ocular gear will be activated.
5. You can, however, stay at a blog longer than 30 seconds. This is highly encouraged. Why? Well remember the five question quiz? You have to pass one after reading the top blog post on every blog. Failure to pass this quiz, and you recieve a high voltage shock coupled with the trusty laser treatment.
6. After the quiz, a screen pops up asking you if you enjoyed reading the blog you just read. You must click "yes" and the sensors that were installed will be able to monitor your vitals to see if you were giving a fraudulent "yes". If the reply is indeed fraudulent, you will experience copious amounts of electricity surging through your body. If you reply "no", you will be terminated via a lethal amount of electricity: we find the usage of snipers to be rather expensive and messy. Better learn to love those blogs people!
7. There are also "life credits" awarded. These credits are awarded to users on a random basis, and are used to reduce the dosage of the "reading incentives" implemented by BlogHostage.
8. Fail to use our services on a daily basis, and you WILL be terminated.
9. Fail to bookmark at least five blogs a day, and you WILL be terminated.
10. If you choose to leave BlogHostage, you will either be held hostage or terminated.
Simple enough, isn't it?
You might ask where the Hell we get all the funding for this programme. If we told you that, we'd have to kill you. However, we can give you a hint: many people wanted to test new forms of torture interrogation techniques, and they jumped at the chance to utilize our services.
Now, if you made it this far and didn't realize that this is a joke, you need to go read it again. I wrote this because I am sick and tired of people bitching and complaining that people aren't reading thier blogs. We cannot be forced to sit there for 30 seconds people, although we try. If we don't like it, we move on. 100% readership cannot be guaranteed. Get over it and get a life.
I was really hoping to get those electrode things so that I could take them apart and use them for devilish reasons.. This post was bloody brillant. I am humbled your creative genius. Great job on the banner too,
That was great. However, I am here much longer than 30 seconds. You see we did not need danger to make us give up our freedoms just the thought of some one reading our writting.
Too many people seem to think that since they have a blog, they have the right to readership.
Not so.
Readership is a privilege, and is most often reserved for blogs that are interesting in some way (ie. you, my dear ;) )
BE and others try to increase the possibility of blogs getting read, but if you don't have something to capture interest in the first place, you're sad out of luck.
I think I might take a break from BE for a while... no surfing, no battling... see what life used to be like.
Mindflame: You'd be surprised. The thought of people reading one's writing isn't enough. They want it guaranteed.
Ben: You know how to make a girl blush. ;-) I hope I still see you. *sniffs*
Will: I'm sure I can arrange something for you...
Capn: People listen to podcasts more? Damn, I need to reformat HorseHell and make it podcasts only then.
Luka: ;-)
Cap: I hope it makes people think. Unfortunately, those who are complaining the most seem to be incapable of doing such a thing.
BM: *grins*
Leigh: I can neither confirm nor deny that, BUT I can say the other aspects of the gear would make more people jump to use BlogHostage. The other findings aren't published, because it deals with readership, not voyeurship.
So Lost: I"ll have my people call your people. Come alone and unarmed. ;-)
The one night you decide to play the Swedish chef and cook up a storm in the kitchen, one of the following, or ALL, will happen:
did csi directly lead to your college major? do you want to stay in vegas, or will you seek work in other major cities?
i like the show, but how can you actually work with dead bodies?