(no subject)

This entry on metaquotes reminded me of this one time in college when my ex Joe got a big paycheck and went shopping with me and some friends.

Friend: So, Joe, what are you going to buy?
Joe: I'm spending half of it on cheap women and beer. I figure I'll just waste the rest.

Ah, Joe. He was the sweet. *nostalgic sighs*

Anyhow, the one published writer whose beta list I got on not long ago? Sent out the first two chapters of his next story. Wheeee! I want to be just like him when I grow up. Except, you know, not a man.

Oh, and this year's resolution? GET PUBLISHED. And also, no more apocalyptic nightmares, unless of course they star Michael Biehn or Nick Stahl, in which case my new year's resolution is GET PUBLISHED and figure prominently in the end of civilation by making out with an important male historical figure.

Um ... and also, after reading that last paragraph, no more Milk Duds before bedtime. *nods solemnly*

(no subject)

I bought General Foods International Chai Latte this morning, have already finished off a cup and am onto my second, and have yet to burst into blasphemous blue flames. Yay! (This is much yummier than it should be. Someone at GFI must have sold their soul to Satan for that. Or, you know, just 'cause.)

I need something hot to drink, though, so beggars and choosers and all that. 'Cause, well ... ow. I would really appreciate if my plotbunnies would do me a huge favor and beat my reproductive organs into a quivering, fearful lump with a large mallet. What a great way to start the year ... snippy, sore all over, and feeling as if I'm somehow trying to act out John Hurt's infamous scene in "Alien" just for the hell of it. *pokes ovaries with a sharp stick*

Yeah, so ... the plotbunnies. Apparently, they were waiting for the new year to begin before they got drunk, partied, got over their hangovers, and decided to come up with ideas like mad dogs, because I've gotten right back on the writing track as of yesterday. I do kind of blame Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve, at least a little. In the story I'm working on, I made the personification of Time look like Dick Clark. Hey, better to be inspired than terrified when I see Dick on New Year's Eve.

Ick. And suddenly I'm having an O.C. moment where "Dick Clark" and "ball drop" are in my head at the same time and ACK.

(no subject)

( Writing rambling ... )

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Also, watched "Arrested Development" tonight for the first time. I've been meaning to for a while, but just kept forgetting. *still giggling* That's got to be one of the funniest shows I've ever seen. And it stars Jason Bateman. I could have sworn those two concepts defy some law of nature.

Out of boredom ...

I searched for my real-life name in Google and learned two things -- that someone I've never even heard of quoted a line from one of my old movie reviews in a college-level analytical paper, and also, there is one other person in the United States with my name, and she's a Girl Scout. So she'd be the good twin, then, I suppose.

Erm.

So I was sitting here trying to figure out whether it's worse to dangle the baby over a balcony or use it to taunt crocodiles, and my brain exploded.