A few random things

-- Two deleted scenes from the Glee pilot. Wow, Matthew Morrison's got a really lovely voice. No, no, let me ... he's actually a terrible singer who's completely out of tune and probably not playing that guitar and also the entire song was done in a STUDIO. Oh, and you can't see the kitten he's kicking in that scene. *sigh* I hope they give him lots to sing when fall rolls around. (DAMN YOU, FOX, YOU HORRID TEMPTRESS! *shakes fist*)

-- This kid is keeping a lending library of banned books in their locker. Oh, man, I hope that kid doesn't get caught, but WOW, how amazing is that?

-- Pirates vs. ninjas checkers. WAAAAAAAAANT.

-- Strangely enough, I've had days like this. I like to imagine that now that I'm not at the factory anymore, everybody's missing all the typos. It's a stupid little thing that makes me happy.

-- Oh, and in case you hadn't heard, it's been confirmed that Mel Gibson's girlfriend is pregnant. EW. Him, not her. He's the skeevy one in this situation, especially when he's saying shit like, "I guess I'm 'Octo-Mel,'" and when asked if they were getting married, "Why would you get married twice?", a particularly sweet sentiment from the same guy who once said about his wife while he was still married to her that it was really sad she was going to hell. EWWWW.

-- Also, Mike Tyson's 4-year-old daughter is on life support after being found with her neck caught in the cord of a treadmill machine.

Naptime, yes?

Heroine Addiction:

35012 / 100000

I'm not entirely done with chapter nineteen yet, but it's close enough and I'm tired.

I have a third of a book. And this is the first time all year I'll have reached my getyourwordsout monthly goal. Hell, if you would have told me I'd be at this point a month ago I would have laughed at you, somewhere in between getting upset at having writer's block. \o/

According to CNN ...

... they're upholding Prop 8, but allowing the marriages already done to stay legal.

Gag me.

Colin Morgan's voice is sex. That is all.

Heroine Addiction:

35678 / 100000

Chapter Eighteen is done.

Eighteen chapters. Holy shit, you guys. o.O That's more than a little surreal after weeks of writer's block.

I got another rejection today from a prospective job. Not that I've sent out a lot of resumes or anything -- there's not much to be had around here anyway -- but still. I mention it because I think the one thing that's really worrying me about this story is how much I'm focusing on working on it to the detriment of other stuff. Looking for a job hasn't been successful, so I've been slacking. Going out when I'm broke means I can't splurge as much as I like (and when I say "splurge" I'm not talking about getting to throw twenties around or anything, I'm talking in terms of singles here), so I haven't left town much the past month or so. Going out on the town with Jess means another night of her possibly going home with a guy and me heading back home alone, which never bothers me (hey, at least one of us has a sex life) except ... eh, I can't deal with being the lonely sidekick right now.

I mention all that because this is the one thing that's not crashing and burning for me right now, so. *sigh*

I keep thinking about the last time I got laid off in 2001. I was off for six months, and then out of desperation I had to take a job as a telemarketer. So of COURSE I'm focusing on the fucking book that I'm enjoying the hell out of writing, because at least that doesn't pay me a shitty paycheck (it doesn't pay at all -- beside the point, anyway) and require me to call people who snipe at me to get a REAL job when it's the only real job anyone in the area can get (not true anymore, thank God, but there's nothing else either).

I'm sorry if I seem a little too focused on it to the detriment of fic or fandom or whatever, but ... well. That's probably one reason why I went off on the whole "pissing in my lemonade" BS, because seriously, I have maybe fifty bucks for the next two weeks. If I'm not sitting alone in my dark apartment trying to finish another chapter, I've dragged myself down to the cafe just so I'm not some creepy shut-in. I talk to my brother, my parents, Jess, and my pets, and that's it. I can't fit into most of my clothes right now. And the book's the one thing consistently making me happy, even when it's fucking pissing me off. I'm not at, like, needing-to-see-a-doctor levels of depression or anything, but for fuck's sake, if watching over-produced television musical performances or hot communications officers or cheesy variety-show entertainment is giving me a temporary case of the flappyhands, leave me be. I'm not getting a whole lot of that right now, which is probably why I spent a good fifteen minutes before watching the "How Crayons Are Made" video from Sesame Street on repeat. At least no one showed up during those fifteen minutes to kick my cane out from underneath me or shit in my Cheerios or whatever.

But, yeah. Heroine Addiction.

I'm going to try and spend the rest of the night plotting out the rest of the book. We'll see how that goes. I've got the final chapter finished, so as per usual, it's just a matter of getting from point A to point Z. Or, I suppose it's more aptly point G or H to point Z. Whatever. I think I could be moving a little quicker with an outline, so plotting it is.

It's rainy and cold and gross out. I don't think I have to mention how much that's not helping my mood at ALL.

Aw, that's terrible.

The 4-year-old daughter of boxing legend Mike Tyson died Tuesday, a day after she was injured in a treadmill accident at her home, police in Phoenix, Arizona, said.

Jesus wept, left the gun, and took the cannoli.

I'm watching I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant again.

Yes, I KNOW, and for the record my imaginary miracle pocket messiah baby's name is Sally, even if it's a boy, I don't care.

Actually, now that I think about it, Salvatore would be really cool with my Italian last name.

Be prepared, ladies and gents. The next coming of Christ -- now with a name like a mob hitman!

Dude, seriously?

Today there was another one of those "I'm a 22-year-old virgin and I'm afraid no one's ever going to have sex with me" secrets on ljsecret that pop up occasionally.

The responses are usually 90% "I didn't lose my virginity until I was 24/am a 24-year-old virgin now and I'm fine!" and 10% "Oh, just go to a bar and fuck somebody already," which always amuses me because honestly, if we were the kind of people who felt comfortable doing something like that, don't you think we would have done so by now?

In any event, out of all the supportive comments from other delayed virgins, I'm the oldest.

You know, at this point, I think I'd be disappointed to lose it if only because I'd have to come home and delete, like, five of my icons.