Heroes Heroes Heroes - A New Fixation For The Girl Who Already Has Way Too Many [And Some Other Stuff Too]

Why the fuck am I still awake? This is obscene. I came home specifically to go to bed EARLY. I start my job next week. The stock of the evil corporation I'll be working for will sharply decline if people start finding drool on their books. Unless they like that, but that would be gross and disturbing.

Anyway. I know I'm late to the game [I always fall in love with TV shows after the fact, since I only recently got TV], but Heroes. Damn. I just cried like a baby. Granted, it's late and I'm a bit loopy, but that in no way detracts from the awesomeness of the show.

I do have one issue: there are so many fucking characters on this show that you can go a whole episode or two without seeing your favorite character. At all. Also, if you miss one episode, you are fucked for the rest of the series, which is probably why the network opted to show episodes on their website. I missed the season premiere, which is OK since I'm still finishing up season one. But seriously. I am a convert. I apologize for ever doubting the amazing glory of this show. Everyone else was right.

Oh, and WHAT THE FUCK? The DOCTOR is on on Heroes? Those of you who don't watch Doctor Who and therefore probably think I'm having some sort of episode, feel free to skip to the next paragraph. The rest of you, WHAT THE FUCK?! Christopher Eccleston, a man I have lusted after ever since fucking Shallow Grave, was on Heroes?! WHY was I not informed of this fact? And why do I feel like someone told me, I flipped out, then completely forgot? The DOCTOR was on AMERICAN TV? And, most importantly, WHERE DID HE GO? Will he be in Season Two? Nine is STILL the bestest Doctor ever, even though I like Ten very much. And all of them, actually. I'm digressing big time. And delving into levels of creepy fandom that alarm even me, so let's move on.

They filmed a scene from the new Sex & The City movie right by where I live. Which is pretty cool - or would be, if my former roommate hadn't watched that show so often that I can probably never watch an episode again.

It's so hot in New York. Global warming is fucking with my favorite season. Now it's personal. And now I don't care again.

Tyra Banks is insane. My least favorite girl was kicked off America's Next Top Model tonight [don't judge me - it's a guilty pleasure and I am fine with that], and I was a bit too maliciously gleeful. She was evil. At one point I screamed at the TV, "You took an elephant pill of Prozac rectally for breakfast!" She was aggressively perky.

Flashdance was as bad as I thought it would be. My dear friend Kay made me watch it for the first time tonight, and my eyes are still bleeding a bit. This film was brought to us by two of the most mysogynistic men in Hollywood. Did they spit on Jennifer Beals between scenes?

And finally, why the everloving fuck is Donald Trump being interviewed about potential presidential candidates? Not only is he an unmitigated ass with epically bad hair, but more importantly he has no idea what the fuck he's talking about. Which is fine. Nobody does, and celebrities talk about politics all the time without annoying me too much. But this was on CNN for fuck's sake. It was a whole segment. That's a little, um, EXCESSIVE, don't you think? And for some reason everyone acts like he has a fucking clue. Like we should REGARD his opinion, because he's such a freaking intellectual. If he wants to spout is pretentious idiocy, that's totally fine. But don't treat him like his opinions have any more validity than the homeless crackhead who steals my garbage.

A man dressed up in a waffle outfit is on my TV. I think it's time to go to bed.
- LV

Edit: I was just shutting down my computer when I realized I have something like 87 pictures of Hunter S. Thompson on my computer. That's weird. But if it's wrong to have dozens of pictures of a crazed dead journalist who was older than your father when he died, then I don't want to be right.

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OK, for some reason, when I post from work I can't have a title. Which is probably a sign from the Gods of Publishing or the Gods of Hiring ElleVee So She Doesn't Have To Sell Her Organs For Food Money. But I digress.

My roommate is evil. EVIL. I'm sorry, but I need a moment's rant. After a long day at work, I come home intending to watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force and hold back tears of exhaustion. Instead, we have the following conversation:

Her: What are you watching?
Me: Aqua Teen.
Her: Oh, that's too bad. I was going to hang out with you, but now I can't. I don't like that show.
Me: You could try to like it.
Her: I have. I'll be in my room.
Me: I can hang out in here when you're watching Sex and the City.
Her: But you like that show.
Me: I used to. Before you made me watch every episode over ten times.

Then she later accused me of causing her to waste two hours of her life playing Tetris while I watched TV.

Here'a an update on work:
* Distribute roughly 1,000 books throughout the office.
- DONE. I distributed Cool Daddy Rat, Hey Mr. Choo Choo, Christopher Counting, Uncle Bobby's Wedding, and Stand Tall, Abe Lincoln. My back hurts, and I dropped one hundred copies of Mr. Choo Choo on my foot, but hey, who's complaining?
* Check the contact information for over 600 independent bookstores.
- I'm on page two. There are thirty-six. I don't want to talk about it. Anyone up for buying independent bookstores and turning them into rest homes for stressed-out readers?
* Read 175-page manuscript and write reader's report.
- DONE. And it was really good, incidentally. I'm hoping the title will change, so I'll hold off on saying what it is. But seriously, I nearly cried at my desk. Probably while the mysterious Intern Hiring Person strolled by.
* Read and edit 251-page manuscript and write reader's report.
- That's next. No problem, right? It would be, if I knew who the hell had given my the manuscript. She didn't introduce herself. Just shoved a box of paper into my hands, told me she needed it by the end of the week, and ran off laughing evilly. She also set fire to my hair.
* Handle slush (need I say more?)
- We are ignoring the ever-growing slush pile. If I don't look at it, it's not there. Maybe I can ask the Lady With No Name But Many Manuscripts to burn it next time she stops by.
* Have meeting with president of imprint to discuss Dean Koontz project.
- Pushed back to next Monday. AND she's buying me a sandwich. I'm hoping it comes with 'You're Hired!' mayo, as opposed to 'You're Getting Escorted Off The Premises' mustard.
* Write flap copy for children's book (and edit it).
- DONE. And she liked it! At least enough that she didn't spit in my face, or cry.
* Attend meeting on OTHER manuscript to determine if it goes to publishers.
- Moved to tomorrow. I read the book. I have opinions. What else do they want from me? They already have my TEARS.
*ave ANOTHER meeting with president of imprint to determine whether or not to purchase entirely different manuscript, which I just finished commenting on.
- Hasn't been mentioned. We're going to put it with the slush, and pretend it never existed.

And that pretty much sums up Life in The City. I have two minutes before I can ran screaming out of the building. I'm going to the Strand Annex today, because I EARNED my money, and to Klatch, an amazing coffee shop in the Financial District. You all should go. Their quiche could bring around world peace. Unless you're lactose intolerant. We don't want YOUR kind.

May your day be cool and not-sweaty, and may the crazy serial killer decide you look like too much of a fighter to bother with.
- LV

Title: Do Not Wear Platform Shoes When Lifting Fifty-Pound Boxes Unless You Really Hate Your Ankles

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