Maybe not hell, but certainly the path to obscurity is paved with really, really good intentions. And that's where I am. Snug in my ratty-old flannel jammies, with a chipped mug full of steaming hot chocolate and an empty Snickers wrapper crowding up my workspace. A cigarette burns in the ashtray while the furnace kicks on intermittently, sending spirals of heat and curling ribbons of smoke dancing toward the ceiling.
I really should be doing something meaningful. I meant to write a review, or a long-winded intellectual post, or even a short-winded post filled with snarky observations.
Something. Anything but what I'm actually doing which is taking it easy and enjoying my
Call it a wild guess, but I don't think this is the path toward fame and fortune. Maybe it's the jammies. Don't know, don't care. In fact, I think I will thoroughly thumb my nose at productivity by signing off and playing a rousing game of Plants Vs Zombies.
Question: When you guys feel like lounging around and being a slug, what - besides reading, of course - do you do? What are your secret vices?
2nd Question: If you're lounging around when you read this, what is it that you feel like you should be doing instead?
This is your Commander Slug signing off.