Conspiracy Theory #273 - Pogo Games and the Procrastination Bug

I'll admit it.

My name is Sandra, and I'm addicted to Pogo Games.

It all started a few months ago when I was sitting at my computer mulling over what to write about, that dreaded Writer's Block taunting me with bits of information I had absolutely nothing I could do with.

I thought, maybe if I don't think about it for a while, I can get past it.

So, I did a search on "free online games," and here I am now.

Now, before you point out that I'm writing now, let me tell you that I have Word Whomp minimized in another window.

I'm so ashamed.

I tried justifying it by telling myself that if it's a word game, I'm not procrasintaing, I'm simply stirring the creative juices (boy, what a gross mental image - but I digress). Then I started getting that look from my husband every time I told him I was *ahem* working, and he'd look over my shoulder and see Bookworm flashing on my screen. "What?" I'd say. "I'm just taking a break."

...and then 2 hours later - "What? I'm brainstorming. What do you mean Hog Heaven Slots has nothing to do with writing? Pffft."

And yes, you guessed it - I got duped into the "Free Trial Club Membership." Twice. If my credit cards actually had anything on them, I'd be in trouble.

Curse you, Pogo Games, for making procrastination so darn easy.

Ah, Football

{Originally written in 2007.  Edited to remove any references to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and to include Sheldon Cooper because, well, why the hell not?}.

It seems that it's football season, and the world will come to a cataclysmic end if all men are not glued to their televisions all day every Sunday to watch it.

Now, I don't dislike football, I just can't stand to watch it on tv. Don't ask me why, just quirky I guess. Maybe if I got a giant foam finger for home use and a screaming hot dog vendor to stand at the door, I might be a little more apt to perch myself on the couch and cheer for whatever team I dislike the least.

That's the other thing. Men will watch a football game regardless of whether their favorite team is playing. In fact, I've seen men growl over the remote just so they can watch a game involving two teams that they HATE. Why? I have no idea. Is there testosterone seeping from the screen, sending our men into virtual Nirvana with every touchdown?

I guess that's one of the mysteries of the Universe that women will never know.

Myself, I'll tolerate a day of football. I secretly don't loathe it as much as people may think, I just like watching them foam at the mouth when I pretend to reach for the remote. Honestly, I wouldn't know a legendary coach if I saw one. I don't know who won Super Bowl XVI, and I'm not really sure what a Nickel Defense is.

Me, I'm in it for the tight ends.

Bazinga!