I think I need some help.

I'm working on a rewrite of my finished novel, and the nightclub-bar-type-thingy? Yeah, I've decided its name doesn't fit. Problem is, I'm having a hard time coming up with something new. (I keep running names like the Raven and the Bronze through my head, but all it makes me want to do is go to a bar and dance provocatively with the first vampire I find.)

What would you name a nightclub if given the chance? Something slightly goth but not annoyingly so, not trendy but still cool.

(no subject)

You know, I'd love to know why the hell I'm suddenly full of static electricity. Every time I've touched something metal for the past few days, I've gotten fried, and every time I've even so much as looked at my hair, it's gone skyward. If I'm developing superpowers, I'd really like to trade these in for that purse I asked for that's always got the exact amount of money I need in it.

And I don't think I'm allowed to read any spoilers for anything anymore when I'm in the middle of a rewrite. I read a spoiler for who Chris on "Charmed" really is this morning, and because of it, when I was on the bus to work, I suddenly got an idea for the rewrite that I am never, ever, ever allowed to let go of. It's that good. And it's not so much that I don't want to have those ideas anymore as it's that I'd much rather not spend the next eleven hours dying to write it.

It really doesn't help that this story's been ruminating in my head since 1997. I started writing it right before 'Titanic' came out in the theaters, and I remember that because I must have changed one character's name and backstory about five times before I said, "Fuck it," and just stayed with what worked. It actually works all right as a lame in-joke, anyway, and besides, I certainly can't change the character now. He is what he is, and that's an annoyed psychopath who swears he'll kill James Cameron one day. That much, I can forgive him for.

I do have to say one thing, though, and I'm pretty sure qnotku can back me up on this. This thing where you start out writing a story, and it turns into a twenty-book series and and all your friends are hooked, and every time they say something about it, all you can think is, "I know something you don't know"? This is one of the best parts of writing. I plan on savoring it when people come up to happily agitated and go, "What the hell did you do that for? I mean, I love it, and I totally didn't expect it, but ... but ... come on!"

Oh, and did I mention Captain Asshat said something along the lines of trying to get me and two other female co-workers fired? Because that doesn't make him look like the woman-hater we're accusing him to be, does it? (The thing is, he's doing it by saying another co-worker and I were having a private conversation and questioned his sexual orientation. Okay, a.) being gay does not make you a woman-hater, and b.) the only time either one of us said anything like that is because he said something that made Sofia ask me if he was gay. I said I didn't know, and that was the end of it. Also, someone sabotaged one of my other co-worker's shipments, and the Captain's the main suspect. Did I mention his doing so might be alerted to the cops? Yeah, smooth move, pal. Notice how none of us were trying to get you fired? We were just giving you enough rope to hang yourself with as long as you were stupid about it, and voila. Argh.)

P.S. Those of you who didn't have to go to work today can blow me. I work with mail in the Washington area and I still had to go to work. We seriously need a holiday for someone whose primary intent in life is to do absolutely nothing but slack off, so we can all have a holiday.

When's Jack Black's birthday? Weird Al's? Come on, people, let's honor laziness and silliness in all its forms!