blogging gobbledygook and such

Today is a chilly day, and she woke up late. It is that sort of indolent day where your mission is to do as little as necessarily possible. Which mean several aspects you normally consider important on a normal day takes absence. Like bathing.

Yes, she’s a very naughty, dirty little girl who cannot be arsed if she does not bathe today. If people in that famed reality show Survivor can do it, why can’t she? They are living proof one or two baths skipped will not make your nether regions any more susceptible to sexually transmitted diseases, especially if you are not sexually active in the first place. Aha, bet now you are wondering at what level of activeness is her sexual life, if she is activated at all. No matter, immaterially private, potentially embarrassing details like this should not bother her from continuing airing her naughty, dirty little secret in her blog.

Digression aside, she believes she has made her point, being that one bath skipped will not ultimately ruin her life nor have future hygiene consequences, because her track record of at least one-bath-a-day has been exemplary thus far.

Noooooooo, but the hygiene patrol in her house disagrees and quite vocally. The way she so eloquently raves about the wonders of bathing this very day, it is as if the naughty, dirty little girl would be rewarded beyond her wildest dreams by the Goddess of Hygiene through the sprinkling of good events happening in her past, present and future life. That is what this one bath can do for this girl. And of course the hygiene patrol concludes her effusive tribute by urging that naughty, dirty little girl to pay homage to the goddess with a cleansing bath.

Now of course you should have a very good idea of who is this naughty, dirty little girl. Infamous, isn’t she? And you know very well that this girl has a bit of a rebel streak when it comes to a certain adversary in the humble abode she resides in. Yes, that adversary is the hygiene patrol. Even though the little girl has started to feel her hair itch and her body sticky and her nether regions all the more icky as the hygiene patrol waxes lyrical of the daily sanitation we humans must put ourselves through, that rebel streak refuses to give into that refreshing, invigorating, cleansing bath. Hey you spineless prat, the rebel in her snarls, do you need someone like her to tell you when and when not to bathe? To which the spineless prat inevitably dutifully obeys and remain the naughty, dirty little girl that she still is as she types this into her all-too-revealing blog.

Do you smell something funny?

No, you didn’t, because she ended up taking that elusive bath.

Her friend has just asked her out for dinner.

Nothing like social motivation to ignite one’s hygienic desires.

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