A Day in the Life of a YouTuber

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I woke up and immediately began to thrash about in my bed in a violent, enraged convulsion, grunting loudly and forcefully through gritted teeth, spittle spraying from my mouth, when I realized it was a new day and I had yet to make the world aware of my opinions of everything, untainted by research. The bed's legs and post snapped against my seizure. I leapt up off the mattress, kicked my dog and threw my cat outside through my closed window.

I showered, brushed and bleached my teeth, moisturized my face, hid my blemishes with make-up, emptied a few cans of product into my hair and styled it to look like I just got out of bed so everyone would know I always effortlessly look sexy in front of my tungsten ring light.

I brought up the day's relevant Wikipedia articles in advance, and as I rehearsed my specifically-worded script of others' opinions over and over, I was careful to take the time in between to remind myself, over and over, "Just be yourself." It's called YouTube, after all.

I switched on my wall-mounted LEDs for hardcore gamers only, cannon-balled into a seating position in front of my computer, turned on my over-priced camera and streaming software, smashed that 'Go Live' button and bravely stated to everyone on the planet simultaneously: "Whatever's going on today, I have the same opinions on it as you and my advertisers, and don't forget to like and subscribe. Now let's play the latest video game that I hate and attracts the most viewers." Sometimes, no matter how bold your views are, you just have to put yourself out there and take the slings and arrows.

I edited the video, removing mistakes and anything else that made me look or sound human. I uploaded the stream and received no copyright claims on it. Typical! I placed ad breaks throughout the ten-hour video every two seconds, to space them out. I don't want to annoy the viewers if I can avoid it. I filled the video thumbnail with as much text as I could, coloring one or two words for emphasis as I knew my subscribers would be too stupid to understand my position otherwise. Not many people are on my level.

The constructive criticism started pouring into the comments section. Fortunately I wrote a computer macro that deletes such and any critique along with any comments that disagree with me while I jack off in front of my mirror. Nobody can or should allow any negativity to disturb their emotional state, it's dangerously toxic.

A line of massive armored trucks then pulled up outside of my house to deliver my daily cut of advertisement revenue. The truck drivers in uniform tuxedos with bow-ties tossed the money into my room through the shattered window stained with my cat's blood, one over-sized, dollar-sign-labeled bag at a time. The weight of the money caved in my floor, which is why I now stream from my basement.

I could then hear a chopper descending on my helipad above my arcade-slash-laser-tag-arena-slash-aquarium. I threw on my zoot suit and strutted out across my roof towards the helicopter packed with shapely women in tight dresses. They clinked their glasses, soaking one another's large breasts in champagne as they giggled between exchanging epic tales of how large my penis was observed to be.

I downed a mickey of vodka and snorted just a few lines of coke, being careful not to spill anything onto the pilot seat I was sitting in. Every time I fly to my favorite nightclub I make a game of seeing how many barrel rolls I can do on the way there.

Luckily I still had enough of the money I raised for charity left to afford the club's most expensive champagne. Good thing you don't have to pay tax on internet money, LOL!

I spent the rest of the night getting DUIs.

You might think I can't just do whatever I feel like whenever, but don't forget that I'm an electronic celebrity.