Big Brother finally sent down our challenge for the week.
All sarcasm aside, and despite the fact that 99% of you have neither heard nor could care less about Second Life, this is the first truly International Big Brother, open to all, and where peoples of all faiths can come together, set aside their differences, and respect one another's beliefs. When we try to escape the values of the mundane world, and stand side by side as one people - christian, jew, islam, hindu, buddha.
So naturally, our first task was to build a fucking Christmas Tree. Oh come all ye faithful.
I should have known it was gonna be a weird day by the tone of our visitors. Lego people jackhammered the concrete, whether to get in, or let us out, I couldn't tell. And Spongebob squeegeed the glass with tellow-stained suds, a warped desecration of Midnight Express.
By the time I got to the beach, the ladies had done most of the work. My timing was perfect. After the build is complete, we are to vote on who contributed the most, and that person wins immunity from eviction. I'm hoping that they'll follow the logic that the further I stay away, the quicker they'll get this stupid thing done. But like I say, 12 women, 3 men - Logic is as prevalent around here as testosterone.
Phaylen's our matriarch, the ninth person ever to set up shop in Second Life, and a good bet for the final. She presided over the affair like Cruella DeVille, but was too busy to notice me skinning her puppy and stuffing it in a box. Whoever wins the tree in the charity auction is gonna find a doggy surprise waiting under the tree.
Here's Lillani working on the lights. I wouldn't have taken her to be the festive type (unless were talking razor slashes on the arm and goat's blood cocktails every Samhain) but she's pretty good at programming stuff like this. Is it wrong how much that turns me on? Damn - his place is really starting to fuck with my head.
One of them made a snide comment about me having a bug up my ass, and it inspired me to offer myself up as the tree topper. As the sharp spike penetrated my warm interior, I felt a tingling.... wait, that story can wait for another time.
Under the tree, they'd built a train, so I hopped a ride, hoping it'd be my ticket out of the big house...
... but as if to reiterate my karma was bad, I continued to circle, reliving my life again and again. There's no escape, I'm trapped in the hell of Endemol's making.
More later.
THE ONLY WAY TO GET ME TO STOP WRITING THESE REPORTS IS TO NOT VOTE FOR ME. WHICH IT SEEMS LIKE YOU'RE NOT DOING. BASTARDS.
Wow...
Nobody gives a crap about Big Brother in Second Life
Tell us something we don't know, Mikey.