Hello. I am Nijerian prinse Majeerah Akinwunmahadjalalilimajereshertiaaaaaaaymacarena, and I am coming on you to be helping me with my long problem. Please be excusing the fact that I cannot spel prinsce. Or Nygeria. You see, for years I have been moneyless in my home country of Insert Third World Country Here. But now I find I am royalty. But now we need you help. You see Insert Email Address Before The @ Symbol, Making It Look Like A Name, I need your credit card details to ensure I can become it. (note to self: ask scamming supervisor how exactly this is supposed to work) Anyways, if you should become so kind as to reply with your bank account details, I will am thankful so much that I will recieve you 20% of monies which I will recieve.
. . . and if are not believing that, then I will be sending you emails every days the next 18 years with lottery story instead of royals.
. . .
Just back from the gym.
My biceps and triceps seem to have put aside their petty differences and formed a union. Gluteus Maximus is attempting to join too, but they're arguing that that fat lazy bastard just sits on. . . well . . . himself all day. My heart seems to be considering temporary strike action on all function because of working hours disputes. This is very worrying, but the heart's petty squabbles with my brain over my behaviour seem to be distracting it from any decisive action. My lungs aren't too worried as they can deal with the burning sensation that comes with exercise for now, but they warn that if I take up smoking, they will attempt to escape via my ears. My eyes gave up long ago, beaten into submission by the horrible, horrible things I've seen on the internet. Unfortunately, their little passive-aggressive revolt involves slowly degenerating into mush. My liver's wondering if it can hire a lawyer it knows, who's a real asshole, to file charges against me for domestic alcohol abuse. My back just wants to sleep on a bed that won't add 40 years to my life. My elbows are. Um. Still there I guess. No one gives a shit about those guys. Also, my teeth think I should take up knitting, but that's probably mental damage from the tin foil I've been chewing. Lastly, my thumbs are signing a petition to be legally classified as "fingers" saying the segregation has gone on too long. But they spend their whole day playing video games, so they don't know what the hell they're talking about.
. . .
That's all at this moment. Now go watch a new movie in the cinema rather than torrenting it or something . . .
I'm a Product Design student in the University of Limerick, Ireland, with a penchant for video games and sarcasm. I've been described as "Like a John Cleese made of stone" and "the guy with the glasses. . . no, not him, the other one".
. . .
If the blog reads like something farted out of the back pages of a cut-price philosophy textbook, that's because I was going for a "stream of consciousness" approach, but had to settle for "trickle of basic sentience".