(no subject)

Hey, did you guys who are going to DragonCon check out the schedule yet? There's a panel on Sunday at 8:30 in the Piedmont Room called, "My So-Called LiveJournal (.com)". Hee. If I weren't getting picked on enough for being an LJ-addict, the squeal I let out when I saw that in the listings would have branded me for life. (And shattered any glass in the near vicinity, if I'd tried any harder.)

I've just got to make sure I go to the James Marsters stuff, the tattooing panels, the forensic pathology panels, and any MSTing panels I can find, and I'm set. *user bounces up and down in glee*

Is it this weekend yet? Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze? *user tries to look as adorable as possible and wishes it were Thursday*

(no subject)

Okay, I'm off to try and get that screenplay that I've been trying to start for three damn weeks started, so if anyone is looking for me, I'll be sitting in the chair in the corner of my room staring at my new notebook until my eyes spout blood and rabid howler monkeys crawl from my ears.

So, back in ten minutes, then? *user looks hopeful ... or, you know, not, 'cause rabid howler monkeys in my ears? Ewwww. I don't even want to begin to think what I'm going to Q-Tip out of my ear later on ... ick ...*

(no subject)

ARGH. Argh, argh, argh.

New script not speaking to me. Old script teasing me with strawberry cheesecake and Smirnoff. Am about to beat my inner screenwriter to death with a rolled-up copy of the script to "Glitter". Considering the ongoing creative argument for control between the two scripts in my head, would not be the least bit surprised if my inner screenwriter was actually a Frosted Mini-Wheat.

Fine, stupid old script. I'll write you, but only because it'll make crimsonspin happy. Not because you have mental images of Orlando Bloom nekkid you'll sell me for fifty bucks and you keep taunting me with 'em. (And stop that! Dangling things over my head and making me jump up and down to try and get 'em is illegal in this state. Or at least, it should be, damn it.)

Am watching "Bowling for Columbine" ...

People are idiots. Huge, gagworthy, nauseating idiots.

That is all.

EDIT: Marilyn Manson is coming off as the smartest person in this thing. And without editing. That's absolutely terrifying.

(no subject)

( You know, switch who plays me and who plays my love interest and this'd be golden. )

(no subject)

I just realized how weird the LJ panel at DragonCon is going to be to me. It'll be like being in a roomful of friends and strangers (this is the part where I snark about nobody being stranger than the gang on my friends list, right?) while wearing a bandanna over your eyes and having to guess who's who by picking their pocket when they're not looking and rifling through their ID.

And thinking about it, it'd probably end up that "friends list envy" is the unofficial "penis envy" of LiveJournal.

Me: I have a hundred and forty on my friends list.
Anonymous LJ Stranger: Oh, yeah? Well, I've got two hundred on my friends list. *raspberry*
Me: *genuinely confused* How do you have sex with your friends list when it gets up to 200?
ALjS: *also genuinely confused* You have sex with your friends list?!
Me: You don't?!

Followed, of course, by dual staggers of weary confusion towards the nearest Internet connection, where I'll snuggle up to my friends list in gratitude and the anonymous LJ stranger will do like that monkey in the sex experiments and keep hitting the "Update Journal" button and shagging his friends list until he dies.

Of course, if he had worn a finger condom, that wouldn't have happened. (Shameful, really.)

And just for that ... *user pounces on her friends list and shags away, wondering just the right way to say that she's carrying her friends list's love child*