The Kids nappies
Sniff the air...
Look at the clock..figure its only an hour till the other half comes home....
Look at the boy with nappy now so heavy its at his knees..
Look at the clock again..
Yep it'll hold..

Poor buggers..but if your going to procrastinate, procrastinate something that keeps you out of the shit ;-)
(sproutout Aardvarks you gotta love 'em, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 13:35, 1 reply)

I should be writing a 3000 word assignment
Yet I'm alternating between B3ta, The Register and Fallout2.
( Duncan Disorderly, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 13:32, Reply)

Help wanted?
Can some one tell me what it says.

www.lifecoachexpert.co.uk/HowStopProcrastinatingBeingLazy.html

Ta
(Biff..., Fri 14 Nov 2008, 13:31, 1 reply)

I took 2 days off last week
with the express intention of doing something productive - getting my design portfolio ready as I'm going to be made redundant soon, and also learning a bit more Actionscript 3.0.

Monday morning, I got up nice and early, thought, hmm, I'll just have a twang on the guitar first.

I was still there Tuesday night twanging away (as it were).

Redundandy looms and I'm doing fuck all about it. Needed to get that out...

*Apologies for 'getting it out' - 'length', 'girth' etc...
( Farmfoodsman, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 13:30, Reply)

Swear jar
Anybody who has ever had any connection to the armed forces will understand the tried and tested concept of "fines", which serve both to discourage certain unwanted behaviours and to provide a useful revenue stream for booze and goodies. My University Air Squadron was no different, but in my final year the swear jar in the crewroom was stretched to ridiculous levels, with some students trying to extort fines simply for anything they considered naff, be it fashion misdemeanours, poor choice of car, lame excuses for no-shows etc. Some people tried to stop the madness and stupid fine escalation, but a second year called Javed was undeterred, being something of a pro-crass tin Asian.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 13:26, 1 reply)

I couldn't even be arsed
finishi
(feels_goodman 's brain cogs whirred at, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 13:21, Reply)

I knew a bloke from Azerbaijan…

He was afflicted with a terrible condition that meant his skin suffered terribly from the ultra-violet rays from the sun, and so had to wear a special suit which he had fashioned himself, out of the salvaged metal from baked bean cans.

But he got lazy, and in the end couldn’t even be bothered to leave the house. In fact, the only time he would go outside his front door was when he was going to a ‘legalise Cannabis’ rally. Then, he’d suit up and proudly go off to shout his slogans whilst carrying a big spliff…

He was known amongst his friends as the ‘Pro-grass Tin Asian’
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 14 Nov 2008, 13:17, 4 replies)

.
.
( Regger, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 13:05, 1 reply)

Backup, backup, backup
Probably the most important phrase for anybody who relies on a pc/mac for their livelihood.

A guy I deal with set up as a digital print business in partnership with my boss in Jan this year. Just found out that the G5 mac he uses for EVERYTHING, from design, to it being the rip for his A0 printer and his digital press, has not had any form of backup EVER.

I asked him why he didn't use 'Time Machine' (which comes as part of the mac operating system) and he boasted that he was too busy to open the box the 500GB wireless hard drive came in, never mind the 3 or 4 button clicks it would take to set it up to automatically backup everything every day.

He spends roughly 2 hours a day stood outside having a fag.

Am I a bad person for hoping he comes into his unit one day and sees either blue smoke coming from the mac, or better still a big gap on his desktop?
(turtles head is touching cloth poked a dwarf on the forehead at, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 12:57, 3 replies)

I
can't even be bothered to eat.

Yours,

Bobby Sands, HMP Maze.
(dchurch bah, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 12:56, 4 replies)

Boom!
Well I suppose I could mention the time that I worked for British Aerospace. Shortly after I left uni a friend of mine got me the cushiest job ever- accident investigation for British Aerospace (this was pre BAE merger). After the initial training all we had to do was wait around until a major accident had happened and should one of our craft have been involved we were flown out to the area and had to survey the damage, check every available source of evidence regarding the crash etc before presenting the findings (This may sound pretty intense but it was a walk in the park and I only saw a handful of them in my 1 years employment).

The most memorable of the crashes I saw was the site of a crashed airbus. It had occurred on a godawful deserted island in the Mediterranean. The plane itself had gone down a few weeks previous and the survivors were stranded on the island for a while.

Some of the passengers that survived believed that the accident was a good thing and a reason to go back to basics. They had constructed huts to live in out of parts of the plane wreckage, each member of this said 'tribe' were decorated in armour made from shrapnel from the plane too small to use for shelter. To be honest they really enjoyed their new way of life so much that they had decided to declare the island as their own country to live in.

The other survivors (the one that saw the accident as what it was (an electrical fault)) couldn’t wait to get back to civilisation and away from the Pro Crash Tin Nation.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 12:49, 1 reply)

My story.
Ok, so I used to live in the United States (Miami, to be precise) with a group of 4 or 5 of my friends. It was actually great fun. One of the guys had parents who were filthy stinking rich. I mean really rich. We used to just hang around at his and drink ourselves silly. The parents had no problem in having us practically live in their 10-bedroom mansion. It was unbelievable. They were so rich they even owned a yacht. And that’s where this story begins.

One 4th of July weekend, we were looking for something to do. It was eventually decided that we’d take a road trip south of the border, to hang out with those crazy Mexicans. (I didn’t know why. They didn’t celebrate Independence Day like the Americans do.) Unfortunately, none of us, despite being in our late teens, were actually licensed to drive. This presented a problem. Until Ryan (The rich kid) said “Why don’t I borrow my parents yacht? We can go and sail down to Mexico instead”.

So, come the holiday weekend, the bunch of us started packing up the yacht. I made sure we’d have enough fuel to get there. (I’ve been stranded in the middle of nowhere after a car ran out of fuel before. It’s not fun.) The rest of the guys packed up all the essentials (Food, drink, money, etc.) and we were off.

Anyway, we were out on the yacht for a few hours, when the water started to get a little choppy. “Don’t worry” said Ryan. “This yacht is really sturdy. We’ll get through this in no time”

That’s when the engine started spluttering.

“What the hell happened?” I yelled, as our yacht stopped moving. One of the other guys in our group who was a mechanic went to check the engine and discovered that it hadn’t been serviced in years.
According to him “It could only be in worse shape if it was held together with bits of string”

We were now just bobbing in the ocean with not much nearby land visible around us. Just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it started raining. The bunch of us all high-tailed it into the cabin. We sat there, doing nothing but trying to keep from puking as the boat rocked back and forth violently.

After about an hour, the waves were calming a bit. I couldn’t take it though. I was about to see my lunch again. I made a burst out of the cabin up to the top deck where I forcefully vomited over the edge of the railing. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a massive wave hit me, and I went flying over the edge and into the water.

I shouted back at the guys, but they couldn’t hear me at first. When they did, I was drifting too far away for them to reach me with a float.
I thought I was a goner.

Luckily I am a pretty good swimmer, so I was able to fight the current a bit as the storm settled. Still though, I was totally lost. It didn’t help that I had recently seen the film “Open Water” which was about people in the same predicament I was now in. And that didn’t have a happy ending.

Thankfully, after a period of swimming about, I managed to spot a small mound of land in the distance. I swam there with every bit of strength I had left in my body, before collapsing on the shore. I passed out, with the knowledge that I had at least made it towards land.

“Are you alright man?” was the first thing I heard upon regaining consciousness.
I opened my eyes and saw a kindly old man.
He kind of looked like Morgan Freeman, only with dreadlocks.
“I need to get to a phone,” I croaked.
“Ah, come with me then” he replied. “We have phones in the village”

I followed him for a while as I regained my composure and got my voice back.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“We’re on a little island next to Jamaica” was his response.

“Oh, that explains the dreadlocks” I said, without giving it much thought.
“Not quite” he replied, as we reached the village.
“We were once part of the motherland, but we were banished”

“Why?” I enquired.

“We had different ideals over that” he said, as he pointed to a pig that was roasting on a spit nearby.
“Unlike others, we are people who don’t believe it is wrong to eat meat from the pig. We were cast out of the island because of this belief.
Our people settled on this land where we can carry out our religious beliefs in peace.”






“Oh”, I said. “You mean that this is a Pork-Rasta-Nation”
(Zigmund can't think of anything good., Fri 14 Nov 2008, 12:37, 3 replies)

Olympian
I was selected for the British Olympic Team for apathy.

I was part of the 4 x ahhh f**k it relay team.

But I couldn't be arsed to go.
(Worthless wishes he had the brains of a pigeon, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 12:23, Reply)

Ah yes, procrastination in gaming
I have cheated on almost every single game I've ever bought.

All the GTA's? Downloaded a savegame to give me eleventy million dollars and access to everything.

Max Payne, and Max Payne 2? Enabled developer mode. Infite health, infinite ammo. Don't know why I bothered playing it through, but I did.

Doom 3? Too ring-puckeringly scary for me. I can't get past the first level. I keep telling myself I'll complete it one day, but I never do.

I used to play guitar, and I have a bass and a replica Les Paul, but I'm too lazy to pick the fecking things up (the Les Paul also needs a rewire - 5 minutes of a job, but as I never use it, I can't be arsed).

I leave jobs on the car until they need to be done. Handbrake cable needs replacing? But the MOT's not due for 6 months! I know, I'll carry a brick around to stick behind the rear wheel instead.

I'll smoke ashtray rollups instead of going to the shop for fags. Not because I can't afford them, I'm just too busy doing nothing.

None of my computers have the sides on their cases. I like to swap hard drives around occasionally, and 2 seconds to remove the side is just tooo much hassle.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 12:20, 4 replies)

In my avoidance to write my made up article
I even made up this nonsense mini novel about how me and my robotic sidekick from Haiti would go around the Caribbean fighting crime. In the latest tale, we were sneaking up on a sleeping Jamaican who we believed to be selling crack.

I turn to him and say, "Poke Rasta, Tin Haitian!"

Jesus Christ, Pooflake where are you? Help!
(GONEism, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 12:14, 11 replies)

Lazy I
A friend once told me he was writing a book.

I replied "Neither am I"

(see, so lazy that I even steal my QOTW answers)
(Pickettywitchfinder General, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 12:13, Reply)

Paying Bills
why o why can't i be arsed to pay bills on time? i mean, it'll be 10 to 5 before i go into the post office to post that cheque on the last day before they're coming round to cut me off. what a hassle.

a cheque for gods sake!??!? if i could be arsed, direct debits would save me alll that malarky - but i can't be bothered with that faff of setting them up either.

if it's not doable over the tittyweb while i waste my days at my desk - it's not worth bothering with. i can't even be bothered to press the shift key to create upper case letters at the begining of these sentances!

there's no hope. drugs are bad.
(TheManofScience, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 12:04, Reply)

Job hunting
Currently, I get a 6 figure annual payment for testing teh internets. This is soon to end and the job market is not the best at the moment, for both seasonal and economic reasons.

I should be leaving no stone unturned in my search for financial stability. Instead, today I have:

- Ran 10 miles. This was great. went out in moonlight and came home in a red/gold autumn sunrise. A "glad to be alive day".

- Taught myself to play the pipey bit on Stairway to Heaven on my keyboard.

- Wrote a letter to Blue Peter, trying to get a badge for my lad.

- Copied some *stuff* onto my usb stick.

- Made a wonderful photoshop image of my impression of what a future corporate event will look like (I think I added too many lipstick lesbians - but hey ho!)

- Played bowling buddies on Facebook.

And this has been similar to every other day for about 3 years.

I don't deserve pity.
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 11:47, 2 replies)

I keep putting off an article
I promised to write for my friend's magazine, about how I think British teens are becoming so obnoxious and nasty, they may as well make careers out of it (and some have, if you look at the Ting Tings).

Despite promising I'd do this, it's been 4 months and all I have is a title:

"Pro Crass Teen Nation?"

Ha! And you're all apparently too lazy to fight back against my pun-rape.
(GONEism, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 11:47, Reply)

Facebook, phones, showers, wardrobes
Started a Facebook thingy, put off updating it for a bit and now can't remember if I have to log on, my password or whatever.

Got an email account I have not looked at for weeks, it came with the ISP but it is clunky and bloody slow.

Got a new mobile phone in December last year, it is supposed to do everything but plan Moon missions, the telecom stuffed me round for nine weeks, I found I could live without it, have only made a few calls when away from a working landline and will read the manual sometime. Never take it with me, there's a phone at work, one at home. I have forgotten my PIN number for it anyway. When the contract is up I might ditch it altogether.

The shower is dripping. Cut new seats and replaced tap washers a few weeks ago and it made no bloody difference, the damn thing still drips and I can't be bothered to have another go.

There is a good quality antique wardrobe in the garage that needs stripping and refinishing. It's been there only 18 years.

Still I managed to mow the back yard, spray the apple tree for moth, the roses for aphids and do a bit of house cleaning so the week has not all gone up the spout.

Started a report at work with gusto several weeks ago, got so far and put it aside, went on with other work and now have forgotten how to work the necessary software. Started it again the day before yesterday, but wasted time composing idiot verses. Today, thanks to meetings and procrastinating client, have dome about 5 minutes work on it. Well there's always next week. Damn thing's late, but not overdue. Yet.

Length? 18 years.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 11:36, Reply)

My best quote
I never revised for my exams, so my parents were getting narked about this.
I received a strict talking to and was asked why I was zawning around and not revising.

"Revision's for people who can't remember" said I.

What could they say to that?
(oneinthepink is at your cervix m'lady, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 11:33, Reply)

Not really putting it off
Not long ago I worked in the police department of a famous city (I don’t want to mention it on here cause it could cause me a few problems if this went public). You will never meet a lazier bunch of people than the staff that worked at that place.

When a crime was reported that will involve a lot of hard work they used to get the boss to pop up to the roof, switch a light on and get some bloke dressed as a flying mammal to do the work for us.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 11:24, Reply)

The Midnight Club…

When I was about 18 years old I was part of a very close circle of friends. There were only a few of us, basically just the band I was in and a couple of others, but we were tight.

Not tight as in ‘stingy’, or ‘cock-gripping’, or even ‘playing music in time’ tight…in fact, just replace the word ‘tight’ with the words ‘bosoms buddies’. Not in a gay, ‘boobie’ way, or even a….oh, you get the idea.

Anyway, with us, every moment was an adventure. Hard drinkin’, fun lovin’, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll, and knee-trembling quantities of magnificently moist sex was the order of the day (not with each other…I mean…well there was that one time…anyway, moving on…)

Suffice to say, we hugely enjoyed our impetuous youth (as in the ‘age’ genre – not an actual youth…as in ‘we enjoyed having boinging uglybumping with a possible underage person’…oh dear)…we never wanted it to end.

But we weren’t cretins…we knew we wouldn’t be young for long, and after one particularly momentous night we decided to make a pact…to ensure that our rebellious streak, close friendship and lust for life would last forever.

Thusly, ‘The Midnight Club’ was born.

There was one rule, and it was nad-twistingly easy. Every day, you must do at least one thing…One single, simple thing...just to prove to yourself that not only is life worth living, but that you are worthy of this miracle…that you are truly alive.

This one thing must be something out-of-the-ordinary…not run-of-the-mill, monotonous, boring and mundane.

Something properly fun…just for the cunting hell of it. Something to make your heart beat a bit faster, or even skip a beat. A minimum of one, solitary, self-indulgent thrill a day.

And as every day came to an end…if you reached midnight and had not done something to make you value your existence, and make you want to drop to your knees, pound the floor and thank sweet, hovering fuck that you were alive…then you were to end it all. Kill yourself. Dead

The only policing of the rule was your own conscience.

I’ve gotta say…The early years were easy…with new experiences aplenty. Music, laughter, parties, pranks and popularity. Making friends, making love, making a difference. Inventing new words, trends and catchphrases; then enjoying watching them slowly integrate into widespread public use.

But time went on…and it got more and more difficult. I began to put things off. I’d convince myself that I’d make it up to myself the next day, and that ever more dull events were actually worthwhile.

…

Yesterday, the best I could think of was to mix Tartare sauce and tomato relish at teatime to create a new pink condiment called ‘Tartish’.

Today, I’m looking forward to watching the new Q.I. on Children In Need night.

I think I’ll be dead by Sunday.
(Mr Twisty Cheeky The worst kept secret in B3ta..., Fri 14 Nov 2008, 11:18, 9 replies)

I despise doing the washing up,
so much, that I've bought myself a big stack of paper plates* and some sporks.

If I used conventional crockery, I can easily put off the washing up for 3-4 weeks.


*I do recycle them though.
(Colonel Santiago Introduced surprised kitty to the world., Fri 14 Nov 2008, 11:05, 4 replies)

Major procrastinator here
Anything I find slightly undesirable, boring or plain effortful, I always try to put off as much as possible. It's really an annoying character flaw.

Examples:
- Work. I generally piddle around with simple stuff, leaving the major bits until they really need to be done.
- Money. I try not to go the the bank until my wallet's empty and people are tearing down my door (not quite literally, yet) to get what I owe them.
- Cleaning. Stacks of plates and piles of dust can adorn my living quarters for weeks on end.

On all these things, I actively pursue any other means of distracting myself, usually in the form of games or other computer related activities.
I sometimes wish I could kick myself up the arse and get motivated to really achieve something, but then I remember I haven't explored somewhere in Oblivion yet...

As a last note, I still haven't started any real work on my final project for my college Bachelor degree. I took my last class in spring of 2006. Sigh.
(LLamaBoy skived off work on, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 11:02, Reply)

Not procrastination but laziness...
Well, other people have ignored the distinction, so I shall too...

Before I bought my own place in 2000 I shared a house with four other blokes, none of whom seemed capable of even the most basic domestic tasks such as putting things away. As a consequence I ended up doing the lion's share of cooking, cleaning and washing up, as the alternative was to live in a shithole. Despite this, dirty dishes would still pile up in the kitchen at a crazy rate, but I didn't realise how bone idle my housemates were until one of them walked into the kitchen, poured himself a bowl of cereal, then on discovering that all the spoons were in the sink waiting to be cleaned exclaimed "oh, for fuck's sake", tipped the cereal in the bin and stomped off.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 10:58, Reply)

The Maw the Merrier.....
I sat up, not knowing what the hell was happening, the sense came back into me as an iron foot thumped into my guts and I regained my senses. Something about blood money, always tasted sweet.
I scrambled to my feet, this punk was six foot three of mean and ugly as a dirty pudding.
The crowed jeered on, Roydon, the refuge of the damned.
Underneath all the bright lights and action lay this, the underground fight clubs and speakeasies, the stench of blood and terror... and pain.. and ...
he hits me around my gurgly noggin again and I try to focus... Something about blood money....
He throws another leadbomb and I drop to my knee and grab a leg, driving my body weight forward we both crash to the ground, he takes the fall...
I mount him and rain down haymakers as he scrambles his legs around me trying to do something flashy, an omoplata, an armbar, I'm too powerful... something about blood money... a broken hand, no time to bleed now, I smash my elbows into his brow, opening up a gash of red.
A sneer crosses my lips. I push myself into his face.
"I'm in the whites or your eyes!" I scream.
He grabs me around the neck, stopping my blows, I'm too close damn it.
"You're wrong" he spits, "You're in the whites of my lies" he whispers.
I drive my head down hard into his shnoz and sweet vino pours onto my face from him.
I laugh in his ear.
Our naked bodies entwine like honeysuckle.
I drive my girth into his puckered jenny and he squeals with delight.
I loom over him, red in the face, huffing and puffing. Groaning and wheezing into the night.
I spin him round and again thrust my lovespud into him, holding him by the neck and gently giving him a reach around.
I fawn all over his dirty buttocks.
As I get up I playfully nudge him with my foot and he falls into the pool, laughing as he splashes...

Good night, Mr Lubbock.

I fall into a dream.... something about blood money...

..or I may have misread the question.
(jindodsdadsdogsdead I am not stusut79, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 10:56, Reply)

Milk Bottles
Late Eighties in a student flat in Sheffield, we'd buy a glass pint of milk every day and never take the empties back instead just stand them in the back garden. After the full three terms the back garden was a shimmering collection of green water filled bottles which at the right time of day looked lovely - smell wasn't so good though.
(bagend, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 10:54, Reply)

Flat
We had a great Flat in Watford in the nineties. Above a corner shop that let us run up a tab, a chippy 3 doors down, a launderette that did service washes for a quid on top of the normal stand-there-and-feed-coins-in-for-hours-wash. Oh and we lived opposite to 2, maybe 3, of the Spice Girls (true story, I also slept in Geri's bed but thankfully, she wasnt in it).

Anyway, we, being 20 something lads, didnt cook. In fact the kitchen was strictly for storage of bikes. The fridge was upstairs in the lounge (it was an odd layout) and exclusively for beer and milk for tea/coffee. The kettle and tea making facilities were on top of the fridge of course. Disposable cups stolen from the top of the vending machine were invaluable.

We lived on Pizza from Pizza Hut and of course got it delivered.

However, that became a bit of a drag. Firstly, we'd have to call them, and relay the order, that was tiresome. Then we'd have to wait. Then some kid would turn up on a moped, and one of us would have to go downstairs after collecting cash off everyone, pay, and walk all the way back down the corridor, past two whole rooms to get back to the lounge.

Over the years, we refined the process as follows:

1. Standing order with Pizza Hut. Dont wait for the call, assume that on a week day evening, we require 3 large meat feasts, 3 garlic breads, 2 bottles of coke.

2. Costs to be added to account. Billed weekly, and debited between our debit cards evenly.

3. Delivery boy to beep horn on arrival. The flatmate nearest the window to lower down cash on string to delivery boy. On reciept, lower down large basket for pizza loading, and change.

However, this wasnt good enough.

We got a spare key cut and gave it to the delivery boy. So we refined the procedure:

1. Unchanged.
2. Unchanged.
3. Delivery boy to let himself in, and deliver pizza's direct to customers armchairs.

If we were really lucky, the system was refined by calling a girlfriend or 2 at the right time. They'd come upstairs, see the mess of pizza boxes and clear up whilst tutting.

(Yes we had girlfriends! ... mostly)
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 10:46, 5 replies)

b3ta
I realised how much I procrastinate at work when I had a month off between jobs and didn't look at b3ta once. Without work to avoid, I lost the need to read silly stories and look at kittens every 5 minutes. But I am now in the ultimate procrastinating environment, doing a phd, and the interweb is once again an irresistable force :-)
(bryo, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 10:40, Reply)