At the risk of sending my readers [all two of them] running screaming from their computers in disgust, I have a very painful zit right at the entrance of my nostril, and I think it is trying to take over my brain. It’s certainly big enough. So if I suddenly start discouraging washing your face, or scream out against Neutrogena, call the paramedics and tell my roommate she’s psychotic.
Anyway. The zit thing is kind of the biggest piece of news I have to offer at the moment. Work is astonishingly dull, mainly because everyone is on vacation. I sit here and read slush. I check my Amazon wishlisht. I post on LibraryThing. I’d look for writing gigs on craigslist, but unfortunately Gmail is blocked on our server, and our E-Mail can be read by supervisors at any time. So much for that.
Got bootleg copies of Grindhouse, Knocked Up, and 28 Weeks Later...
Bought way too many books this weekend, and am now on a spending freeze.
Got stuck on one side of the Gay Pride Parade, with my friend Kay on the other. I had one of those moments where I was sincerely proud of where I live: watching people celebrating who they are [gay, straight, transgender, republican], while others sat on their roofs and joined in. Of course, I almost immediately felt a momentary twinge of extreme loneliness when I realized I was quite possibly the only straight single girl on the block. There were a lot of heterosexual couples. At least nobody called me a breeder.
Relax, I’m not going to suddenly start howling about my angsty single life. Mainly because it would be a horrible, clichéd lie. Yes, there are times I would like to have a boyfriend. But at this moment, a relationship would only be a nuisance. Of course, if Hunter S. Thompson came back to life and demanded I be his bitch, that would be another story. Also, I imagine my posts would be much more interesting.
It is blindingly hot out. The heat hits you like a wall, knocking the wind out of you and, with it, the will to be a constructive human being.
I’m getting to the point in slush reading where a few spelling errors on a cover letter is enough to send me into a rage.
For those of you who didn’t read my comment on an earlier post: it was brought to my attention that perhaps I shouldn’t be airing people’s inability to write on my website, as other publishers might be insane enough to like them. Or, to be more diplomatic, it would be very hurtful for a random person to see me openly mocking their hard work on my arrogant and admittedly self-important website. Therefore, I will no longer be doing the slush coverage. Weep over its demise. However, I WILL continue to comment on the stupid/insane things people do when sending in their stories, so hopefully it will balance out.
I love me some Starbucks.
Anyway. The zit thing is kind of the biggest piece of news I have to offer at the moment. Work is astonishingly dull, mainly because everyone is on vacation. I sit here and read slush. I check my Amazon wishlisht. I post on LibraryThing. I’d look for writing gigs on craigslist, but unfortunately Gmail is blocked on our server, and our E-Mail can be read by supervisors at any time. So much for that.
Got bootleg copies of Grindhouse, Knocked Up, and 28 Weeks Later...
Bought way too many books this weekend, and am now on a spending freeze.
Got stuck on one side of the Gay Pride Parade, with my friend Kay on the other. I had one of those moments where I was sincerely proud of where I live: watching people celebrating who they are [gay, straight, transgender, republican], while others sat on their roofs and joined in. Of course, I almost immediately felt a momentary twinge of extreme loneliness when I realized I was quite possibly the only straight single girl on the block. There were a lot of heterosexual couples. At least nobody called me a breeder.
Relax, I’m not going to suddenly start howling about my angsty single life. Mainly because it would be a horrible, clichéd lie. Yes, there are times I would like to have a boyfriend. But at this moment, a relationship would only be a nuisance. Of course, if Hunter S. Thompson came back to life and demanded I be his bitch, that would be another story. Also, I imagine my posts would be much more interesting.
It is blindingly hot out. The heat hits you like a wall, knocking the wind out of you and, with it, the will to be a constructive human being.
I’m getting to the point in slush reading where a few spelling errors on a cover letter is enough to send me into a rage.
For those of you who didn’t read my comment on an earlier post: it was brought to my attention that perhaps I shouldn’t be airing people’s inability to write on my website, as other publishers might be insane enough to like them. Or, to be more diplomatic, it would be very hurtful for a random person to see me openly mocking their hard work on my arrogant and admittedly self-important website. Therefore, I will no longer be doing the slush coverage. Weep over its demise. However, I WILL continue to comment on the stupid/insane things people do when sending in their stories, so hopefully it will balance out.
I love me some Starbucks.
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