[about the author]
i actually like speaking in front of large crowds. freakish,
i work crossword puzzles in ink.
i am the american nigella lawson. or maybe the american eddie
izzard. can't decide, really.
i would be a really good mom, but i'm cool with being a really
i am sometimes more perceptive than i would like to be.
i am fiercely loyal. sometimes, stupidly so.
i never play dumb. never.
i am way too hard on myself.
i am a change agent.
i sometimes cross that fine line between assertive and aggressive.
i am not afraid to tell people that i love them.
i am militantly pro-choice.
i am pro-adoption.
i know a little bit about alot of things.
i typically enjoy the company of men more than women.
i am capable of being really mean and nasty, but i fight it.
i am a lifelong cubs fan. do not laugh.
i have been known to hold a grudge.
i have hips.
i am not my sister.
i am lousy at forgiving myself.
i am an indoor kind of gal.
i am a bargain shopper. to the point of obsession.
i am 32 flavors. and then some.
it's not you. it's me.
i'm just...in a weird place right now.
i hope you can understand.
before the holidays, it was my crazy schedule that kept me from writing. or from having anything to really say. now, although things aren't really much slower, it's more of a general malaise. an icky feeling.
i don't feel funny.
i don't feel like talking.
or doing much of anything.
except eating. apparently, there was some sort of meeting or caucus or some such get-together, and i've been informed that my ass has made an executive decision to extend the annual holiday binge straight through to easter.
and, you know, really, there's nothing like sitting on the couch shoving fudge in your piehole to help you shake your malaise.
i'm pretty sure that last night i actually heard my butt expanding. it was an odd sound. sort of like when you drag your finger across a balloon. we're now talking about acreage over here. that's what it's come to.
buffalo are roaming.
deer and antelope are playing all across the expanse of my ass, making it very difficult to concentrate on sex and the city. clearly the deer and the antelope do not appreciate the fact that now there are only seven episodes left. and, while i'm on the subject, is it just me, or is that whole carrie-and-the-old-russian-guy thing not working for you either? i mean, i know it's baryshnikov. and i've always thought he was hot. but, seriously, there's about as much heat between the two of them as there is between an ice fisherman's butt cheeks. it's just not happening for me.
i'm feeling tired. not-so pretty. rather bloated. a little sad. maybe a touch lonely. but i'm not all weepy and wallowing in my sad-and-loneliness.
i'm just saying.
it is what it is.
the new year is here, and i just keep asking myself: "what are you going to do about it?"
other than fill up all the free space on my new computer with new and totally unnecessary fonts.
and get a tivo. so i can watch even more television.
and, what the hell, get a new tv while i'm at it. if you're gonna lie around and eat fudge and watch television until your eyes bleed and your brain turns to fudgy goo and runs out your ears, you may as well get a nice flat screen.
and, although i'm feeling so out of sorts that i really am ready to embrace the whole fudge-laden plan and change my mailing address to "my couch," i'm trying really hard to make a change. i don't want to get all bridget jones or anything, but i'm a bit fed up with things. everything. all things. my inertia. my lack of companionship. my ever-expanding ass. my whole new-year-same-life do-nothingness.
so, time for a few changes.
first up, at the risk of running into standard new year's resolution territory, i think it's about time i do some exercise. beyond getting up off of the couch every hour or so to get more fudge. or getting up to see if my 2000-fonts-in-one-zip-file has downloaded. yeah, maybe something more than that.
and, it's time to find a date. oh, sure, i keep saying that, but it is time. i've been a big fat chicken up to this point. my self-doubt and fear got in the way. which is okay-fine...except the part where it kept me from going on dates, thus being utterly alone. so...uh...i guess the self-doubt and fear aren't actually okay-fine. right. so. immediately after i enact the getting-up-off-of-the-couch plan, i'll get right on this get-a-date thing.
and, lastly, i was thinking it's about time to do something with this writing stuff. maybe try and publish it somewhere. or maybe a better place to start would be to figure out exactly how one goes about asking someone if maybe they would publish some part of it somewhere.
seems like a decent-enough idea.
so...anyone know of any publications that pay for stories in bulk blocks of fudge by any chance?
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