Seamen bet on the number of people they expect will throw up during each boat trip. They got a running total and prognostics and everything. They have my greatest sympathies, I admire their handling of idle time, I wish I could think of something more awesome to do on a boat trip (paint on sleeping passengers' faces? scream at the first dolphin that appears: 'MOMMYYY!! I know it's you!! You've come for me at last?? :D'?) but I can't. This is perfect boredom management.
Speaking of management, life is a helluva lot of fun without it. Color me a happy camper.
I am slightly bemused in my corner, but it seems to me, humor is just the icing on life. Sheer intelligence doesn't cut it. It doesn't, no, if it ain't backed up by some sort of substance, some sort of soul. Despite the lols, I still feel like I always want to be somewhere else and, fairly enough, expect that others feel the same. So, that makes my world a world of zombies. Naked zombies, bathed in sludge, prancing around like hobo maniacs, but zombies nevertheless.
