There Are Dead Mice Outside My Apartment

And I have no idea why. They look like they were mushed. It's kind of gross. Tiny mushy mouse bodies make Elle sad. And a little nauseous.

I don't really have anything to say, I just don't want to leave for work just yet. Yes, I am back at the Evil Corporate Bookstore after having spectacularly quit barely a week ago. I shame myself and others. Last night I watched AQUA TEEN HUNGER FORCE, and found myself laughing out loud. Never seem to get tired of it.

This week at work all employees get a massive discount, and I am buying accordingly. Which is a bit of a problem, considering my lack of cashflow. Also went to the STRAND today and bought a book, despite the best efforts of my friend Kay to curb my rampant book-buying compulsion. I may buy something today, then nothing else for a while. After all, ORDER OF THE PHOENIX comes out on Tuesday, and I need to buy it (along with the first and fourth movies, but let's not get into that right now).

One last thing: the new Will Christopher Baer book was SUPPOSED to come out last month. It didn't, and it's release date hasn't been updated. I am very, very annoyed by this, and need to find out who to complain to. For those of you ignorant of his genius, go buy the PHINEAS POE collection. So good. Like a love letter dipped in blood and acid, only not as wet or smelly.

OK, now I'm late.

May your Thursday be pleasant, and may the dead mice cease to exist outside my door.
- LV

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When You Really Think About It, Snot & Phlegm Are The Grossest Substances On The Planet

It is physically impossible to quit smoke and caffeine on the same day, especially when you don't want to and hadn't ever intended to do such a hideous, evil thing.

I have a migraine, and I'm still exhausted, so I'm going to plan my evening. And you're all going to listen and fucking pretend that the activities of a stranger matter to you.

But first: I overslept this morning, took a shower, and splurged on a cab (it's less than ten bucks to get to work, and since I can't have Starbucks, I'm probably saving on that end). On the way to work, I noticed a lot of people frantically waving for cabs. Thought that was funny. Got to work, and was informed that the New York City subway system had apparently committed suicide. It turns out I was the only person there. Until 10:30 AM. Sometimes I amaze even me. I celebrated by listening to my House, M.D. playlist on my iPod and playing around on LibraryThing.

When I get home, I am going to watch one of the following movies:
* Disturbia
* Perfume

I am going to finish The Guardians, then read one of the hundreds of books I still need to get through. Today, bookwise, I bought:
* Who's Afraid Of Virgina Woolf?
* Spook Country
* Song Of Susannah
* The Omnivore's Dilemma
* Disgrace
* Shadow of the Wind
All for $17.39.

I was PLANNING on going after work to the Strand and buying Forever Odd and/or (fuck it, and) The Eyre Affair, but now that seems wrong. I need an intervention for books.

My head just started throbbing. Begone with your words. AND GIVE ME A FUCKING CIGARETTE DIPPED IN COFFEE GROUNDS. I'LL SMOKE IT ALL, DAMN IT.
- LV

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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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All Hail Spider Jerusalem, President of My Attack Ovaries

A Brief Look At ElleVee's Week:

• Distribute roughly 1,000 books throughout the office.
• Check the contact information for over 600 independent bookstores
• Read 175-page manuscript and write reader's report
• Read and edit 251-page manuscript and write reader's report
• Handle slush (need I say more?)
• Have meeting with president of imprint to discuss Dean Koontz project
• Write flap copy for children's book (and edit it)
• Attend meeting on OTHER manuscript to determine if it goes to publishers.
• Have ANOTHER meeting with president of imprint to determine whether or not to purchase entirely different manuscript, which I just finished commenting on.

People keep giving me manuscripts to read. Which is a nice change from reading slush (one being written by published or soon-to-be-published authors, the other being written by the same people who flash you on the subway). But it's a lot of pressure.

I have decided that this is punishment for last week. The Gods of Publishing saw me sitting at my desk, whining about slush, playing around on LibraryThing.com and Amazon.com, and judged me unworthy. I have sinned, and this is my penance. Stupid Gods of Publishing.

I'll keep you updated on these projects as they occur. All I can say so far is that nobody needs to worry about Barnes & Noble or Borders taking over the bookstore market. In fact, maybe they should buy a few more bookstores. CRUSH THE LITTLE GUY! CONFORM!

I can't decide if I should go to the Strand today or not. Because, you know, I have so much free time. So, so much free time.

In other news, Warren Ellis is now the God of My Brain. Hurrah to him, and may he be a benevolent god.

For some reason the evil 'Title' part of this page is not obeying me, so here is the title I intended for this post:

"All Hail Spider Jerusalem, President of My Attack Ovaries."

Yeah. Think about it. DID I JUST BLOW YOUR MIND?! Read Transmetropolitan, and all will make sense. In your ENTIRE LIFE. I need to go home.

EDIT: Now the title is where it belongs. The world is where it should be. Sort of.

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Girl Stuff Is Boring, But In A Really Fascinating Way

An acquaintance of mine recently told me, “You’re just like Bridget Jones!” I immediately killed this person, and sold their body to McDonald’s to be used in the Fish Filet sandwich. Not that I didn’t enjoy the book and movie [the original – the sequels were trash, save for Colin Firth being blindingly sexy], but I am very, very different from Ms. Bridget Jones.

Ways I Am Like Bridget Jones
• We both work in publishing
• We both smoke
• We both drink
• We are both single
• We both have wacky friends
• We both have family drama
• We both worry about weight

Ways I Am Unlike Bridget Jones
• I am a publishing intern, who wants to be a journalist. Bridget becomes a television reporter.
• Bridget keeps trying to quit smoking. I do not.
• Bridget is a functioning alcoholic. I am not [an alcoholic, although some days you could argue I don’t function either].
• Bridget hates being single, because she is in her thirties. I love being single, because I am in my twenties, and frankly have no time for a significant other, considering the fact that I go home and immediately go to bed. I have an imaginary boyfriend, like Amy Sedaris. His name is Phineas.
• Bridget’s friends are wacky and endearing. My friends, while endearing, are also debatably homicidal, which makes them slightly less endearing.
• My parents do not have affairs. They have hobbies.
• I do not whine endlessly about my weight, and use it as a conversation topic, because I would have no friends.
• I read a lot, and Bridget does not.
• I like comics. Bridget may like comics, but clearly not enough to have it mentioned in either book.
• Bridget is fictional. I, to the best of my knowledge, am not.

And so much for that. Huzzah for today, because I will be going to Forbidden Planet, mecca of all things comic. I will also be going to the Strand, but I’m not excited about that, because I need to buy a few Dean Koontz books for work, and the people at the Strand tend to make me feel hopelessly illiterate if I’m not buying, say, Jean Genet or Dostoevsky. Come to think of it, those are probably too mainstream.

I shouldn’t be ashamed. After all, there are people out there who religiously read Nevada Barr (if you do, please leave immediately. Go cry in a corner over how mind-numbingly bad a writer Ms. Barr is). But I’m an intellectual snob, despite my rampant delight over Spongebob Squarepants and fart jokes, so I only have myself to blame.

Back to work, or something like it.

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