Okay, so, half the population of my living room (which consists of me, the fat one, the tall one, the skinny one and the dull one with very large, immasculine man-boobs)is bantering the question: do aliens exist? Well, of course they do! Four prime examples are sitting in my living room and they don't even - - OWIE!
Okay, okay. New subject.
So, we gathered a case of Mt. Dew, some pixie sticks left over in the untouched candybowl from Halloween, and several unclassified photos of some very... *ahem*... large carrots in verious lengths. If that weren't bad enough - two of us, who might remain nameless for the right price... (*cough*Sam*cough*Brent)... had been playing D&D non stop for forty hours. You'd think they would pass out from the amount of carbon monixide they had been creating in their hovel of a hobbit hole. But, alas, I am pleased to inform you they have found a way to become immune to its effects.
I guess once you become brain damaged, there isn't much else left to damage. --OW! God, okay.
Now, the whole reason I was forced... OW!... the whole reason I CHOSE to write this was to show the side effects of such a destructive combination. Friends. Sugar. Soda. D&D. Do you follow me?
So, as my undoubtedly insidious friend -Sari- decided to skim the Internet for her next date. (DISCLAIMER: All of Sari's bodyparts have been auctioned off on Ebay, so you'll have to go on a date with her spirit.) Had to add that. Anywho, s she is patrolling the online bars for her next victim... I mean date... she comes across, "Win a Date With Steve-O." Of course whom does she volun-told for this said mission? ME!
Those of you who guessed me can pick up the tupperare set in the back office. Thank you.
So, shedials in my information. Lo and behold, I am now one of the ninety-millon women who have signed-up. However, I am in the 99% who were unwilling participants. So- stay tuned folks for the next chapter in the saga we will refer to as:
"How Mina Got A Date With Walking Shark Bait."
