stupid back spasms
this is what happens when your boss dumps a whole buttload of crap on your plate (sorry for that particular image) -- you end up having zero time for the really important stuff (i.e. your blog).
anyway, did i tell you that russell recently turned 29? well, he did. and he took all of us out to dinner at one of those totally hip yet totally cazh places -- you know, the kind with the huge flatware and mint leaves in the water bottles. anyway, i don't know what russ was thinking (probably something along the lines of "well, since everyone's here" or "it's my party! i'll kiss men if want to!"), but he chose that night to come out to the entire crew (the entire resto even, we were that loud). well, actually, there were only two folks remaining in the totally-clueless column, so he only had to set that pair straight -- no pun intended. scully, clueless # 1, blinked once and said, "oh-kay", while bro, clueless # 2, was more "we can still convert you, russ". russ was, of course, gay for good. there was no changing him back. tom also came out of the closet -- albeit, "forced out of the closet" was more like it -- which i think is delightful, because it means i can now openly scout cuties with him.
t'was all cozy really.
anyway, russ is throwing another shindig this weekend. this time around, at his "mountain retreat". apparently, his recent "outage" paves the way for these types of fiestas. barbecues will be involved, i hear. people will also be frolicking by the poolside, too. unfortunately, i will be a no-show. i have to work on my novella, you see. have to, have to, have to finish it. i mean, even if no self-respecting publisher ends up touching it, i have to finish it. i'm sick and tired of starting and never finishing. i don't need another manuscript that only runs up to chapter three on my conscience. i mean, i have finished stuff before. yes, it's been known to happen. in fact, my previous editor even asked me (over the phone and quite suspiciously, if i might add) if i were this semi-famous local writer simply passing myself off as a novice. (apparently, some writers do this for kicks or something.) anyway, she said i wrote like said writer and that my manuscript "didn't read" like a first novel. i was, of course, not her, and my book was indeed my first (and probably even read like a first). she was, to say the least, disappointed. but she still bought it, didn't she? and that is the point of this whole digression. yes, i can finish this stinking book. even if it kills me. although i kinda hope it doesn't.
damn, my back freakin' hurts.
must. find. muscle. relaxant. oh. wow. and. pain. killers. too.
anyway, did i tell you that russell recently turned 29? well, he did. and he took all of us out to dinner at one of those totally hip yet totally cazh places -- you know, the kind with the huge flatware and mint leaves in the water bottles. anyway, i don't know what russ was thinking (probably something along the lines of "well, since everyone's here" or "it's my party! i'll kiss men if want to!"), but he chose that night to come out to the entire crew (the entire resto even, we were that loud). well, actually, there were only two folks remaining in the totally-clueless column, so he only had to set that pair straight -- no pun intended. scully, clueless # 1, blinked once and said, "oh-kay", while bro, clueless # 2, was more "we can still convert you, russ". russ was, of course, gay for good. there was no changing him back. tom also came out of the closet -- albeit, "forced out of the closet" was more like it -- which i think is delightful, because it means i can now openly scout cuties with him.
t'was all cozy really.
anyway, russ is throwing another shindig this weekend. this time around, at his "mountain retreat". apparently, his recent "outage" paves the way for these types of fiestas. barbecues will be involved, i hear. people will also be frolicking by the poolside, too. unfortunately, i will be a no-show. i have to work on my novella, you see. have to, have to, have to finish it. i mean, even if no self-respecting publisher ends up touching it, i have to finish it. i'm sick and tired of starting and never finishing. i don't need another manuscript that only runs up to chapter three on my conscience. i mean, i have finished stuff before. yes, it's been known to happen. in fact, my previous editor even asked me (over the phone and quite suspiciously, if i might add) if i were this semi-famous local writer simply passing myself off as a novice. (apparently, some writers do this for kicks or something.) anyway, she said i wrote like said writer and that my manuscript "didn't read" like a first novel. i was, of course, not her, and my book was indeed my first (and probably even read like a first). she was, to say the least, disappointed. but she still bought it, didn't she? and that is the point of this whole digression. yes, i can finish this stinking book. even if it kills me. although i kinda hope it doesn't.
damn, my back freakin' hurts.
must. find. muscle. relaxant. oh. wow. and. pain. killers. too.
Ophelia came up for air at 7:17 PM
<< Home