I Believe in Magic
And I intend to have a very Merry Christmas, thank you, despite my credit card balance. heh heh Someday I’ll figure that shit out.
I Believe in Magic Read More »
And I intend to have a very Merry Christmas, thank you, despite my credit card balance. heh heh Someday I’ll figure that shit out.
I Believe in Magic Read More »
So I can stay out late on a Wednesday night and see a political play about Indira Ghandi and eat Thai food with local writers. You know, I wouldn’t have to get up at 5:30 the next morning. Bah. This fucking job.
One More Reason to Make a Living Writing Read More »
I’ve been having a lot of dreams about food. I don’t feel like I’m depriving myself of anything. I think it’s my body’s craving for more protein. It’s the morning weight routine that does it. Having a tough time getting back to the gym after the Thanksgiving break. Isn’t that always the way? Sat down
Though eating that processed cheese may be good, it doesn’t leave you with much energy. I want to nap now.
Work is busy, book is busy, plane flights are busy, shopping for holiday gifts is busy. Eating far too much processed cheese, too. It’s good. I’ll be back later. I’m just massively swamped.
Yea, I have a number of things to blog about, but I have a bit of a cold, tons of writing to do, and some great time off I need to enjoy. See you all on the other side of the holiday.
I’m Certain There Was Something To Say Read More »
The HR Manger stopped me in the hall this morning and asked, how I’d “gotten so skinny.” Now, anybody who’s met me or seen me at a Con can tell you I’m not exactly a skinny person. Never have been. I’m a size 16, moving back into a 14, and this is the weight I’ve
Once More Around the Mulberry Bush Read More »
Well, I’m off to NY tonight for a nice, relaxing weekend. Spending my time until then going through about 200 pages of line edits and getting some more handwritten stuff transcribed. Type-a type-a type-a type-a. This is why there will never be a writing reality show.
Off to the Big Apple Read More »
Tell me what you hollered back. Don’t take his picture. Tell me what you said. Tell me you told him he was a “limp dick.” Tell me you got into a fight.