I'm not surprised, of course.

Maine shoots down gay-marriage law

I still don't understand who in the hell would think putting the civil rights of the minority up to a vote is a good fucking idea. It doesn't work. It never works, because it requires belief in an entity that history has proved quite plainly doesn't exist. It's like deciding your best option for home security is a ginormous werewolf in your front yard. It may be a good plan, but good luck finding a fucking werewolf to do it. You'll probably find it at the dollar store on a shelf next to a majority of voters willing to be give a shit about other people just this one time.

Must be nice, living in a world where the majority of the population can't be counted on to be douchebags at any given time.

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Why is it that I only have any desire to work on Heroine Addiction for about five minutes far too early in the morning?

I just don't want to type anymore. Can't I just hook my brain up to the computer with a USB cable and let the story fall out of my brain into the file? It's in there, seriously, it just refuses to come out. Stupid story.

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I still haven't seen the last two episodes of Merlin. And I didn't watch V last night. And I haven't seen Gossip Girl or Heroes all season long. Urgh, television junkie fail.

Maybe I'll luck out and Santa will bring me a TiVo, although I doubt it, because Santa's kind of broke this year and besides, as much as it would probably help me from slacking off on my television-watching duties, I have manuscripts to finish and shit to write and I already waste quite enough time on television, thank you very much. HMPH.

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You know what would be really nice? If looking at the classifieds didn't make me want to bang my head off things and move someplace else. Because a.) I can't afford to anyway, and b.) I don't want to move anywhere for a job that doesn't pay well and might not last.

Wait, what are the other thirty-three rules?

So TWoP has this list of agonizing pop culture dilemmas up (based on the premise of The Box: you get a million dollars if you push the button, but someone you don't know dies), and this is one of them:

If you could press a button to get another three seasons of Pushing Daisies, but it meant that Glee would get cancelled... would you?

Look, I like Glee with all of its faults, but HOMIGOD YES YES YES YES YES YES and a thousand million trillion more YESes after that. Give me back my piemaker and my Little Bit.

Also, there's this one:

If you could press a button to guarantee Chuck four more seasons, but it meant that he and Sarah would never be together ... would you?

If they made a point of saying they would never be together, rather than cocktease for four years, then yes, I would hit that button so hard it got pregnant with quadruplets.

Oh, and TWoP?

If you could press a button to bring Heath Ledger back to life, but The Dark Knight would never have existed... would you?

I refuse to answer that question because just reading it made me stupider. Yes, give me back Heath Ledger, for fuck's sake.

Woohoo!

Yuletide sign-ups are open!

\o/

I'm already done and signed up. My choices of fandoms I thought I could write were a lot easier to pick than which prompts I wanted to see, but I finally narrowed it down to four that made me happy.

I should probably hold off on my Dear Santa letter, but if I put it off I take the chance of completely forgetting to do it at all, SO.

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( Dear Santa ... )

It's that kind of a book, I guess.

Another line from Egress:

Two weeks ago, this minotaur strides into my support group like he owns the fucking place and sprawls in the chair next to mine. Minotaurs smell like fresh manure no matter what they do, so no, I don't care how massive your enormous bull's testicles are this week, get you and your obnoxious stench to the other side of the room before I puke in your lap.