Take my lindens, please!

I tipped a blogger for the first time the other day.

Bloggers usually don't ask for tips, but to me they provide as useful a service as, say, emoting strippers do to pervy AVs in clubs.

And on that note, I guess "tipped" might be kind of a derogatory term. I'm not sure. Most bloggers blog because they love to share new discoveries — mental, emotional and physical — with other people. If we didn't like to write, we wouldn't be doing it, and we sure as hell don't expect tips for it. So maybe I'll reword that first sentence and change "tipped" to "gave a gift of appreciation."

Whatever we want to call it, I'm gonna try to make it a habit.

The blog I'm currently lovin' is Miss Susa's Second Life because MY GOD SHE TAKES A PICTURE OF ALMOST EVERY HUNT PRIZE! Check out THIS POST, for example.

Or THIS POST helped me navigate the Dr. Seuss Hunt, as in "want that" and "pass on that."

In these days of insane hunts with 397 stops, I just don't have the time and am rapidly losing the willpower to even care about them. So on that note, God bless Dudda Susa. Now I look at the prizes on her blog . . . which she numbers!!! . . . and then I jump over to the equally helpful Hunt Locations blog and TP to the stores with the prizes I like.

Is that lazy and lame? I really don't care. The Twisted Hunt almost killed me. It triggered a bad OCD attack and I ended up staying awake until 4 a.m. on the last day insanely trying to finish it — like the world was going to end if I didn't or something.

After that hellish experience, I decided I'm never doing a gigantic gridwide hunt again. I'm boycotting them. Put me on the list of ungrateful A-holes who bitch about gridwide hunts. Do it! Do it! I have a permanent neck and eye ache from staring at my computer screen. The mere word "hunt" is starting to evoke a Pavlovian puke response.

In fact, I'm sort of sick of this computer in general. It's starting to feel crispy outside. I just want to jump in a big pile of leaves. In fact, after I finish this post, I think I will.

I got some turtles. They're boring as hell. I don't understand the HUD. There are playing cards in it. Can my turtles play poker or something? I've asked a million people -- even the creators -- and no one answers this question.



Oops. I forgot to show you the HUD in that picture. But there they are. Thrilling, thrilling turtles. Yeehaw.

Speaking of pets, THIS POST remains the funniest account of getting rid of chickens that I've ever read. It's hard to make me laugh these days, but every time I read that post I end up giggling in horror. In fact, I've bookmarked it so I can read it whenever I need a laugh. In fact, I just read it again and died. That is FREEEEEGIN' HORRIBLE, man. Just awful. I'm calling PETA as soon as I finish giving that post another standing ovation. Bravo!

That's about it. I have nothing else to say. Crown me the Queen of SLapathy these days. I'm worried that this blog has officially gone the route of my real blog. One day I woke up and I couldn't write my real blog anymore. It was just dead. No words. Nothing to say. So I switched to this blog. But blah, I have nothing to write about anymore here either.

I think I'm turning back into a human, one who just thinks about bills, fiber grams, car maintenance, finding a date and my real job all the time. Don't get me wrong: I like my newspaper job. I just can't fly around the newsroom whenever I feel like it.

Oof.

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

Maybe I'll get my blog mojo back when this never-ending migraine goes away.