Contest

L and I aren’t fucking, but we are scheming. Help us out?

L concedes our contest, but not without first turning my Twitter feed into porn set in an Applebee’s.

I catfished Craigslist to win a bet with L. It worked, sort of.

L is losing our contest, and the terms need adjusting — but either way, she should be punished.

The game of attracting readers is fun, but the real point is simpler: writing reminds me I’m alive.

L and I are starting a contest to see whose blog does better — metrics, prizes, punishments, the whole deal. She’s worried I’ll kick her ass. I’m still figuring out the prizes.