The following blog posts were found at the site formerly known as lazyslackerslugsdeservetodie.com.  Government codename: “Cloverfield is a shameless Blair Witch Project rip-off, isn‘t it?"  ITEM NO.: 37-X2267-001-4A.

Tuesday,
JAN. 22, 2008
6:48 a.m.

Wake up groggy in a naked pile of MTV-type models after an all-night orgy with other decadent members of my mind-numbing, video game-playing, generation. What a glorious day to be blasé!  I peek out the window at the Kurt Cobain-inspired gloom and ponder what the day holds for me out in the cold, cruel world. Certainly not a Godzilla-sized, man-eating monster, I muse!

Tuesday,
JAN. 22, 2008
6:52 a.m.

After realizing it is only 6:52 in the freaking morning, I make a pro-active choice and go back to bed. I sleep to noon.

Tuesday,
JAN. 22, 2008
12:01 p.m.

After sleeping to noon, I check my text messages, my email, the voice mail on my cell phone, my home answering machine, the comments section on my blog, the comments section on the blogs of each and every friend of mine, my Blackberry, my Facebook account, and my profile page on MySpace for any updates. And then, rather suddenly, I realize that I was supposed to be at work four hours ago. That’s a slacker for you!

Tuesday,
JAN. 22, 2008
2:31 p.m.

Lazy slacker girlfriend finally wakes up. Upon thoughtful reflection over a bowl of Frosted Flakes she informs me that it’s time we “take a break from one another.”  When I ask why, she matter of factly reminds me that “it’s not you... it's me.” When I politely inform her that she’s ripping off Seinfeld, she leaves my tastefully decorated loft that I could never possibly afford on my salary in a huff, slamming the door behind her. Then and there, it suddenly dawns on me that I never told my girlfriend how much I care about her, you know, in case she gets gobbled up by a gigantic space monster (or something) that randomly decides to terrorize the city today. Ironic.

Tuesday,
JAN. 22, 2008
2:34 p.m.

I shrug in a shallow fashion, crack open a beer, and toss myself on the tangled, naked pile of supermodels on my bed. What else can you do?

Saturday,
JAN. 26, 2008
8:37 p.m.

After several days of self-agonizing, constant brooding, supposed soul-searching, and watching endless hours of videotape featuring my ex-girlfriend and I having meaningless sex in the bathrooms at Chuck E. Cheese, I decide it is finally time to “grow up” and move on with my life. And, I surmise, there’s no better way to do just that then by throwing “a kegger.”

Saturday,
JAN. 26, 2008
9:46 p.m.

There’s nothing like an announcement of “free beer” to fill your life with love. Friends I never knew I had suddenly flood my overpriced loft like a faulty septic tank. Thoughts of my ex-girlfriend are soon washed away with the tides of good conversation:

FRIEND #1: “Dude, what’s up?”
SAD-SACK ME: “What’s up, dude?”
FRIEND #2: “Dude, what‘s up?”
SAD-SACK ME: “Nuthin’, dude. What’s up with you?”
FRIEND #3: “Dude …what is up?”
SAD-SACK ME: “Dude! I don’t even wanna talk about it, dude!”

Saturday,
JAN. 26, 2008
10:23 p.m.

Our dazzling debates are unexpectedly interrupted by a massive eruption that shakes the very foundation of our misguided souls. We all instinctively grab our camcorders and race up to the roof like lambs to the proverbial slaughter. Explosions ignite the sky as someone - or something - begins to attack the (name of a beloved historical landmark in your city, province, hamlet or town). “Holy shit, dude!”