This is going to be a bit of a spastic post. I'm having a hard time focusing on one thing long enough to be coherent.
I have been pigging out for the last four days. It began Saturday night, when I came home drunk from friend's birthday night out. When most people get drunk, they lose their inhibitions about going home with unattractive strangers. I lose my inhibitions about eating junk food. And I cannot compete with my kitchen.
That's just the pantry. There's also another cupboard full of peanut butter and Nutella, and the freezer full of ice cream.
Then Sunday, two friends and I went on a bird-watching adventure to the Raptor Trust.We went hiking in the Great Swamp Wildlife Refuge afterwards (photos will be developed eventually...), so at least we spent pretty much the whole day walking. The walking is the essential thing to remember, because after that, we went to Wawa.
If I had not pigged out on Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday, I would have felt ok with allowing myself the Wawa Binge. Me going into a Wawa never ends in anything other than epic consumption of as much food as I can possibly carry.
They put heroin in their sandwiches. There's no other explanation. And there's definitely heroin in everything that Tastykake makes.
So for all of you who were reading The Fairy Queen, I have posted a few more chapters. Feel free to alert me to any spelling or grammatical errors. Also, I need a title, and would be glad of any suggestions. If you like that book, you should definitely read the first one--Underwood. You don't really need to read it to follow the Fairy Queen, but the whole book is up on the site. It's also in the process of being illustrated by Elk, who is awesome and incredibly talented.
There's an Angie Harmon clone at my gym.
I've been stalking her every time I see her, because I want to know if she sounds like Angie Harmon as well as looking just like her. Because Angie Harmon's voice is probably 80% of the whole package of hotness. Eventually, I'll figure out a way to strike up a conversation with her. If she does indeed sound like Angie Harmon, she may well end up in the crawl space in my basement. (The one I've been saving for Stephanie March.) At the moment, I've been a bit more focused on getting a photo of the 70's Porn Star, but maybe I should switch gears for a while.
Mum thinks talking to Angie Harmon lookalike is more important than 70's Porn Star. I think Mum may in fact like women. At least some women. She seems abnormally fond of Kyra Sedgwick, which just proves that god is a sick bastard, as Kyra is married to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
I wonder about Mum. I can't tell if she's oblivious to my nightly herbal sleep remedies, or if she just doesn't care. I do try to hide it as best as I can, but that has been difficult this past week. The supply I just got is quite a bit more potent than his usual stuff, and now everything I own reeks of drugs.
I want a dragon.
And now, I think we should all have a collective moment of silence for Cinnamon Brown's blog, which has been abandoned until further notice. I miss you, Cinna!
Hope you're all having a good week so far. <3
Since I have accumulated more versatile blogger awards, I thought I'd do like I did last time and dissect another bag. In this case, my second purse. This one--while I don't carry it around with me like I would my normal purse--is always nearby, whether it be under my desk at work, migrating around the house, or just chillin' in my car.
Mostly I keep it with me because my current writing projects are in it, and I'm paranoid about leaving them anywhere in case I should suddenly be struck with a brilliant idea and find myself sans notebooks or pens.
1.) That notebook contains book #3 in the pirate series; as well as the beginning of book #4; some notes on books 2, 3, and 4; notes on possible spin-offs; and a folder of more notes, and badly drawn maps.
2.) Emergency food (mostly for work): some V8's and a cup o' soup. Needs replenishing...
3.) Pens and highlighters.
4.) Tea and coffee.
5.) Mini notebook, for ideas not directly related to any fiction projects.
6.) Random bits of books that I'm not really focusing on, but that are nonetheless still "in progress."
7.) One of my adult fiction projects--10 Ways To Tell If Your Cat Is About To Vomit.
8.) Notes for random kids book ideas.
9.) The Fairy Queen, which is almost finished.
10.) The random crap floating around in the bottom of the bag: a Yu-Gi-Oh card I was using as a bookmark, my notary embosser, sticker from a stationery set, spare packet of Splenda, paperclip, hair ties, postal receipt for my taxes, Swedish fish, a rock (?), and a mini whoopee cushion (I have no idea).
This past week went by really fast. I think this may be due to the fact that I was hopped up on lorazepam for most of it. Other Secretary bought office supplies, which means she restocked our office with giant jars of peanut butter-filled pretzels.
They taunt me.
Even if I try to ignore them. That jar of pretzels gets a sick, sadistic pleasure in telekinetically destroying my willpower.
And I can't fight it. As hard I try to ignore the pretzels, that jar wears down my defenses.
And eventually I snap.
10 pretzels = 140 calories. Not horrendous. But can I stop at 10?
OF COURSE I CAN'T BLOODY WELL STOP AT 10.
Or 20.
Or 30.
You get the idea.
So once I give in to that first peanut butter-filled piece of heaven, the day is ruined. By the time I'm finished work at 5.00, I'm bloated and guilt-ridden, and irritable.
In order to combat the Jar of Pretzels, I must take sedatives.
Sometimes this makes me feel like a sad, pathetic individual.
Hope you're all having a good weekend, my honey-bunches! I'm off to go get drunk for friend's birthday. :D
