Because I am a winner.

420 [and counting] words written in the past five days.
That's 84 [ohemgee, look, I did the math in my head, Ma!] words a day.
Psh, while some people are cranking out 5k+ words a day, I mantain a life. [Ahem, ahehehem, AHEHEHEHEHEHEHEM; the voice in my head begs to differ.]

I need to do something with my life.
Other than spend it watching countless hours of porn, of course.
Those were the first thoughts that entered my mind when I woke up the following mid-afternoon. At least I could admit to myself that I needed a more productive way to spend my time. And the first day of summer was the perfect time to start. After I more or less fell off my bed, I reached for a pen and piece of paper.
My list of important things, stuff of that nature, and whatnot that must be accomplished:
1) Make Jenna Laine fall madly in love with me. [This task has not yet been completed. Damn.]
2) Think of other, equally important things to do. [As if there’s anything as important as Jenna Laine.]
I examined my list, decided I was satisfied with it, went to the kitchen for food, and called Seth.
He picked up and said, “Hey.”
“Hey, it’s Nate.” I took a bite of my Pop-Tart.
“Thank you for informing me because caller ID doesn’t exist.”
“Okay,” I replied. “So you awake?”
“No, I’m randomly sleep-mumbling into the receiver.” He more than likely gave himself a pat on the back for that one. Seth is impressed by his self-proclaimed witty remarks.
“No kidding. Can I come over?”
Seth paused. “Right now?”
I nodded before realizing that he couldn’t see me. “Sure.”
“I’m not sure if you’d want to come right now.”
“Why not?”
“Amelia’s here.”
I commenced choking on my Pop-Tart at the mention of her name. “You know, I’m kind of busy today, what with my countless hours of porn that need watching. How about later?”
Seth told me that the incarnation of the devil would be gone in two hours. I hung up the phone, restlessly awaiting five o’ clock to arrive.
When it did, I slapped on a t-shirt and basketball shorts that didn’t look like they’d been worn too much (maybe they smelled like it but all that could be fixed with deodorant and cheap cologne). I didn’t bother trying to start my car and walked to Seth’s house as it was only two blocks away. I was sweating like the armpit of a wrestler by the time I rang Seth’s doorbell. Someone unlocked the door and slid it open. Standing in the doorway was It-Whose-Name-Should-Never-Be-Spoken-Aloud-Unless-You’re-Suicidal-Or-Similarly-Fucked-Up-In-The-Head. My first instinct was to piss my pants, pelt It with rocks, and run, but thanks to the high amount of self-control I possess, I merely shrieked.







Yep.