while with his gun the pagan angel rose to say

Bullet points are AWESOME.

- Yuletide assignment has arrived! This is very, very exciting. Most fandoms I signed up for this year are ones I've never written in before, so this excitement will turn to gnashing of teeth shortly, but in all honesty, I kinda enjoy that, too. Har.

- My days of monofandom are so over. This isn't even news or much of a realisation, I know. Comic books are eating me alive and I'm ready to write porn for things that haven't even been released yet.

- Writing original stuff is fun hard full of self-abusive joy. I've finally learned how to create characters for short stories. Today, mobsters, tomorrow, mercenaries.

- I'm watching way too many movies these days. And by too many movies, I mean not enough. If anyone has an recs, feel free to toss them my way. I'm not feeling genre-specific, either, though I don't enjoy slashers-for-the-sake-of-slashing. Yesterday, I watched Batman Begins before Breakfast on Pluto. I'm pretty sure that defines diverse (and a shiny obsession with Cillian Murphy). If only my Disco Pigs download would hurry up and download.

- I am hungry.

- Shit, I need to write my Dear Santa letter for Yuletide. D:

Originally posted at Dreamwidth here. Please comment there using OpenID or ask me for an invite code. :3

But editing might be worse.

x_x

Originally posted at Dreamwidth here. Please comment there using OpenID or ask me for an invite code. :3

Writing is hard. :\

After two days, TWO DAYS, I finally got my wireless working again. I'd like to claim in my defence that Shaw was being persnickety, and thus interfered with my troubleshooting, but in the end, it was a bum cable. A BUM CABLE. I didn't even think to switch out the cables with the extras until I reached Cid-level of *!*^@! cursing.

Fail.

In other news, I'm an ungrateful twat. I've trained myself up to an average of 10k a week and suddenly it doesn't seem productive enough. 10k. A WEEK.

What is wrong with you, Blue? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.

This icon is becoming more useful than originally anticipated.

Roomie was just in to say goodnight and my email pinged, so, I checked it, right? And it was hilarious because it was yet more spam for BearTrapping.com or whatever, which just makes me giggle these days since I'm all zomg LIEV SCHREIBER every ten seconds.

So, so, I click load images so me and Roomie can see what bears they're pumping out (har) this week and have a giggle or two, and omg, Jesus Christ, the guy that pops up making eyes at us LOOKS LIKE MY BROTHER.

MY BROTHER.

GOD, WHY. WHY.

Dear Supernatural,

Baby, just so you know, if you kill Chuck, we're breaking up.

With fickle love,
Me

I... I think I would write porn for Chuck. So adorable. :x

Just in case anyone was wondering, I am here to say that yes, switching 30,000 words of fic from present to past tense is indeed incredibly time consuming. AND ANNOYING. OMG. >:O

Bitch whine weeble wobble woe.

I have this insane craving for delicious Mexican food. I think I woke up this morning in the middle of a dream about the wonderful teeny taqueria Jess and Miko and I found on our roadtrip back from YCon a couple of years ago. Also, the evil twin was visiting last week, and my brain equates evil twin with California with TACOS.

THEY ARE SO GOOD.

AND I AM HUNGRY. D:

My horny neighbour, my loud horny neighbour, transferred in to Roomie's office.

HE WORKS WITH HER. HE OFFERED TO CARPOOL.

WHAT.

ponderosa was playing around with design stuffs the other day and made posters for some of my kink_bingo fics! Which was probably a joint effort attempt at keeping from mumblemumble and not-so-subtly reminding me that my blackout probably isn't going to happen unless I haul ass. I think the blackout might be a lost cause. This makes me sad.

But posters, posters make me happy! Obviously I am biased, but this does not change the fact that they are full of awesome. Yes.



( Bigger versions beneath the cut! Some NSFW language for you cautious peoples. )

"Self," I say, "this not sleeping issue? Is becoming an issue. Stop it."

"Self," my Self says to me, "I would, but I'm too tired to listen to my bitching right now."

Some time ago (once my write started working again) I set myself a goal of 1000 words a day. I figured that was a nice, comfy goal. Room to wiggle. And if I had a shit day, a really, really shit day, 500 would do. But we're talking a lot of shit here. Monumental shit.

And every single day thereafter, even during that godforsaken heatwave, I met it. I did! And some days, I even surpassed it. We're talking like, 4000 words in a day here. That's a lot for me.

SO WHY DOES IT FEEL LIKE I SHOULD BE WRITING MORE.

In other news, 'room' is also apparently another one of those words that has been ruined for me, but this time I can't blame porn. THANKS, ROOMIE.

And sometimes, I'm not sure if ponderosa's just fucking with me when she says stuff like, "meep. brb. need to put Rorschach's coat back in my coffee."

windsorblue forced, and I mean literally held me down and FORCED me to click on a link to an Eiffel 65 music vid. Never mind that she's in a different country, she totally did. And as the little blue guys are giving themselves head-bopping brain damage, and I cackle over the train wreck I can't look away from, I suddenly remember the old YTV Short Circutz computer animated shorts. You know, the ones they used to play between eps of Reboot and Beast Wars and reruns of Biker Mice from Mars?

I fling links. I have no idea if these are the proper titles, and the quality is crappy on some (aside from the omg-we're-still-kinda-new-at-this-computer-shit), but who cares. The music is either very pretty or very fun, and I claimed Styro as my theme music for awhile. It drove my brother insane. :D

The Pyramid
Breaking the Ice
Windows
Styro the Dog

And I'm not sure if this one is from the YTV batch, but have it anyway. :D Automatic Drums

There are probably half a dozen more at least, like the one at the diner and the record store, and I'm pretty sure I remember a Grecian-flavoured one, too.

Oh, nostalgia.

For years writing GWing, I lost the ability to type 'quarter', instead typing 'Quatre'. Then, 'Sam' eliminated 'same' from my vocabulary.

Finally, I have lost 'cork' as I write a perfectly innocent scene and someone says over dinner, "Would you please stick a cock in it?"

Here I am. Jonesing for porn. Again.

The evil twin is writing porn, but instead of giving me tidbits, she keeps saying things like, "Mike is mean," and "Aha! >:D" which, while scintillating, aren't quite cutting it.

I demand tidbits.

She says, "I HAD AN EVIL IDEA."

I think about mixing myself a drink.

Instead of hanging out with my pal, Jack the Emotional Crutch, I brilliantly say, "Two can play this game, baby!" and never mind she's not the one with the addict jitters.

Breaking open a word doc, I intend to get right down to business. Dirty, dirty business. And then-

Great. The neighbours are having sex. Either that, or the wolf they call a dog is humping the wall, because the wall, it is shaking. Shaking, rattling, and if a wall could roll, it would be.

I'm sorta reluctantly impressed.

About three seconds later, it stops, and I say to the evil twin, "Whew. Alright, well. That's over."

Maybe because I called out to Roomie to tell her I think the neighbours are fucking and now they're too embarrassed to keep their groove on. They probably think I am one rude, uncouth individual.

Either way, I guess the sex wasn't that great.

Ha. HA. I have added wet towels and an icy footbath to my arsenal and I WIN, HEATWAVE. You see that? Huh, huh, you see that? THAT IS ME WRITING. Writing hot gunkink porn and LAUGHING IN YOUR FACE.

That said, please do not crank it up another couple of degrees in a retaliatory volley. There are such things as overkill, heatwave. Let's keep this civilised.

THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING.

I mean. I love summer. I do. If I could have it my way, the year would be spring, summersummer, fall. No one really needs winter. HOWEVER. And this is very important: My idea of summer is NOT 40 DEGREE HEAT. THAT IS 15 DEGREES ABOVE THE LIMIT OF MY COMFORT ZONE.

And it makes me feel all useless and non-writery. :/ I have two fans, a spritzy bottle, enough popsicles to start a fetish mini-series and am sitting around in my underwear like a SKEEZE, and it is still Too Hot to do anything than produce stilted crap-wurds.

Bitch bitch, whine whine, grump.

SCREAM.

Evil twin. Evil twin loves us, yes.

Gorgeous woobie Victor/Logan pic (G, nuzzyly and worksafe) with size difference and woobs and I want to write fic for it but I already did.

My flaily love apparently knows no bounds, all things considered.

I'm going to give the internets one more week, and if at the end of that week I see no Victor/Logan fall out when I shake it, I'm afraid it's just going to have to die. I'll be sad to see it go, but desperate times. Desperate times.

Also, look! A post that isn't fic! JUST SHAMELESS PLEADING. D: