I watched "The Day the Earth Stood Still" on AMC earlier. I'd never seen it before. I liked it. And as a bonus, suddenly that whole "You must remember these words" scene in "Army of Darkness" just took on a whole new layer of funny.

It looks like Peter and Erich are both doing their best to kick writer's block's ass. Good for them. Me, I sat down to work on my manuscript today and, after staring ineffectually at the screen for about 25 minutes, ended up playing hearts. Badly, too. I came in last.

So then I made a New Year's resolution to become more disciplined and to take this writing thing seriously. I went over my schedule and figured out that if I tape Roswell, Ed, & ER and watch them on the weekends, and give up sitcoms altogether (leaving myself Tuesday nights (and Fridays once Sci-Fi starts up new episodes of their Friday Prime lineup again) for guiltless televised happiness, natch), and if I start getting up an hour earlier in the mornings, that will give me at least 14 hours a week to devote to writing.

Coming home from work and not crashing in front of the TV will be hard, but it's the bit about getting up early that really kind of frightens me. I'm just not a morning person; but, I did it before (that's how I got my oft' drafted novel written in the first place), so I suppose I can do it again. It'll be a test of endurance.

Once I set my schedule, I got myself some goals. Goal number one is to wrap up this set of rewrites and stop tinkering with the damned book and just submit it already. Goals two through at least five are to finish all of the other stories I started then abandoned. That includes a short story and a screenplay, and a second novel. There are also some fan fics in there that aren't important enough to stress about since I'll never show them to anybody anyway, but it would still be nice to finish them.

Merry belated Christmas to me! Since she couldn't make it out Christmas day, Little Sister came over today to exchange presents. She got me Berkely Breathed's newest book (thus preventing a violent incident--I might have inflicted bodily harm on somebody if nobody got me this for Christmas), as well as a cool little lapel pin of a Lon Chaney/Phantom of the Opera postage stamp replica, that will fit nicely into my Phantom shri-- um, I mean, collection.

Speaking of collections (and continuing the unabashed fangirl theme of the day), it looks like I'm about to begin a new one. Doing a little post-Christmas online shopping for myself a while ago (after making myself wait a whole week to make sure it wasn't just an impulse buy), I picked up these, this, and a couple of other non-Slayer related items, all mainly for the purpose of getting one of these. I just couldn't help myself. I'm not normally into action figures, but that Spike figure ranked right up there with the McFarlane Movie Maniacs Ash figure (which I'm still trying to get ahold of) and Phantom of the Opera playset on my list of gotta-haves.

More Mighty Big fun - Angel fan-fic made easy

I was going to spend my down time today converting some stories to HTML to post in my words section. Today's links pretty much sum up all that I did today instead.

It's not like I've had access to a high-speed connection all week, y'know...

Two things: A) That mini-disc came with the DVD. I haven't tried it, but I think it'll still play, it just fits into the smaller inner circle on your cd-rom player; and B) Terrence, you of all people should know better than to screw with the cashiers at Wal-Mart. As if they don't have enough crap to put up with throughout the day. Oh, that's right, you were never a cashier, you were one of those priveleged floor associates that got to sneak off and take 20 breaks a day and show up an hour late all the time without noteable consequences. I'm telling you, boy, you mess with the Wa-Mart cashier and (unless she did something to truely deserve it) you'll have to deal with me. I am the avenger of Wal-Mart cashiers. Fear my wrath.

Isn't it shameful how I spend my days at the office? If it wasn't for all of the corporate political crap that goes on around here I'd have every reason to love this job. Well, "love" might be a bit strong. "Grudgingly tolerate" is probably a more accurate term.

....also good for reading Mighty Big Buffy recaps by.

BtVS Radio - Music to slay by.

I finally made it into the office. Once I got out of my neighborhood to the highway, the roads weren't too bad. If only the city would pay as much attention to the downtown sidewalks as they do to the streets. The drive in was fine. The four-block hike from my parking lot (at least, it used to be a parking lot, now it's just a snowy, icy field with various vehicles haphazardly parked wherever they happened to slide to a stop) to the building was an adventure all it's own. At least the crosswalks were sanded.

Oh, when I said "bastards" down there, I meant WD, not Rich and Terrence. Just so we're clear.

Y'know, I think probably the majority of setbacks in my life, both major and minor, can be attributed to one simple thing: bad timing.

Okay, so I've been working on this article query, wrote the letter, put together an outline, got it all ready to submit. I'm feelin' pretty darn good about myself. I've subscribed to Writer's Digest for years and years and years, and with all of their recent coverage of e-publishing and 'net journalism, they had yet, to my knowledge, to cover anything about weblogs. Me being a blogger and all, I figured I'd propose an article to remedy this. The article was pretty much written already (hell, the article pretty much writes itself). High off of my recent publication, I'm pretty confident. Should be cake, right?

So a few minutes ago I was sifting through my bill drawer, and waaaay at the bottom I found the December issue of WD, which I had not seen before.

You know what's next, don't you?

Yeah, that's right. There's an article on weblogs. Pretty much exactly the article I would have written. So, thanks for your help, Rich and Terrence, but it was all for naught.

Bastards.

Oh, but the article mentioned Zannah as an example of a good blog, so that's cool.

Well, so much for making it into the office today. I couldn't even make it all the way out of my driveway. I got a good start, and it looked like I was going to do it, but then I slid forward into a snowbank and got my left front tire stuck but good. It's staying there until my big brother gets here with his big ol' shovel to help me dig it out.

I think all of this is an excellent argument in favor of the company assigning me a laptop (or else licensing me copies of all of the necessary (read: good) software to install on mine) and giving me dial-up access to the network. Then I could have been working all week and my personal time bank wouldn't now be in the hole.

As it is, the time off has been put to fairly good use... I cleaned my bathroom, put away boxes that were still sitting around from when I moved in here a year ago, did some laundry, and started a new workout routine. I wish I could say I've taken advantage of the time to write like a good little writer person, but, well, that would be lying; but today will be spent writing (except for the parts that are spent trying to unstick my car). I'm going to finish my article proposal and try to finish the rough draft of that story I started last time I was snowed in but haven't really worked on since.

I really have got to get myself a routine.

Wha...? No, who! The semi-pro golfer brother? Which episode? Details, man, DETAILS!

My, what a week. It's an unusually wintery winter here in Northeastern Oklahoma, which is nice in that I haven't been to work since last Friday; but since I used up my last paid day off yesterday, it looks like I'll be putting in some extra hours once I finally do make it back there. Joy and happiness abound. Yeah.

I did make it into town last Saturday before all of the yuck hit us, and saw Wes Craven's Dracula 2000, which I actually enjoyed. I mean, I expected to enjoy it, but I expected it to be a lot cheesier than it was, which was not very. It was actually done pretty well, with an interesting plot twist that I didn't see coming, but I guess that's what ol' Wes is good at. And Johnny Lee Miller. Yum. Which leads one to think, how in the HELL does one go from divorcing someone like Johnny Lee Miller to marrying a gnarly old skeez like Billy Bob Thornton? It boggles the mind.

Sunday was a typical Christmas Eve, except that when mom and I got home from church and dinner, we realized that we'd run completely out of propane and had no heat. Thankfully, it was the propane company's fault that we'd run out (they'd skipped this month's routine fill-up), so they got somebody out by midnight to fill our tank. That was a blessing, especially considering that the storm that followed knocked out power in several nearby towns and a lot of people around here have spent the last few days, including Christimas, without any heat.

So everyone who'd been dreaming of a white Christmas got one, and as a result my sister and her husband couldn't make it out to the house for Christmas dinner. It pretty much snowed and sleeted all day long Christmas day, then there was another storm last night that dropped another layer of ice on us. Naturally, my car hasn't been out of the driveway. I went out a while ago and chipped it out from under all the ice and made a path up the driveway to the road. It's supposed to warm up a bit tomorrow, so barring any more frozen crap getting dumped on us, I ought to make it into the office tomorrow. 'Course, it'll probably take me two hours to get there, but at least I'll be able to put in some time this week. Woo.

You know, these Buffy figures are cool and all, but if I were on a show that has such a large following of occult types (like that little girl on Fanatic that was on her way to meet Sarah Michelle Gellar and stopped in a magic shop first to do a spell), and especially if I were someone like SMG or James Marsters, both of whom are bound to have their fair share of wacko stalker-type fans, I don't know that I'd be too comfortable with the idea of having little mass market effigies of myself floating around out there. But that's just me.

Exclusive Spike Action Figure - And it's about damn time!

Well damn. You have to buy $50 worth of merchandise to get it. Guess this means I'll be buying my January comics from Fandom....

When I first began my blog, my entire site was green and orange, and so, naturally, was my blog design. I thought of those as my colors. That's basically what I am. Green and orange. Green eyes, orange hair. Those are the colors I typically wear (when I actually do wear color, that is), and colors I like to decorate with. Of course, right around the same time I put up my blog, green and orange (but most especially orange) were being used so much throughout the blogging community that it became something of a joke. So in various designs since, I've tried just about anything but green and/or orange; but I think that it's high time that I took my signature colors back. So look for bright, vivid, green-and-orangey goodness from Ritalin Junkie in 2001.

A Walk Through the '80's

Y'know, I think one of my most telling memories of the 80's was sitting in home ec class during my first year of high school, watching a videotaped After School Special (remember those?) that was filmed in the 70's about the dangers of teen fornication. I mostly remember each of us sitting around in our stupidly expensive and strategically ripped Guess! acid-washed jeans and straining to see around each other's outrageously teased bangs while laughing at the flat 70's hair and bellbottom pants of the people in the movie. Little did we know that by the time we got to college we'd all be invading thrift stores and growing out our perms in order to achieve that look ourselves.

Say what you will about the 80's, at least we had a cultural identity that was uniquely ours.

Okay, let's see where I stand on my various countdowns:

• 4 days til Christmas
• 10 days left of The Year 2000
• Slightly less than two weeks until all new Buffy & Angel
• Three weeks until I go back to college
• A month or so until Survivor II (sans Rudy, alas, but also sans Rich's ugly naked ass, so it's already got that going for it)
• 7 weeks (and one day) away from Hannibal
• 6 months until I quit my job

....and just a year and a half to go until Episode Two.

Well, here's an attention-getting e-mail subject line: "I LOVE YOU AND I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE!!!!!!" Naturally I opened it, 'cause, you know, that's the least I could do in response to such a touching show of care and concern. Hmm. Care and concern that I visit an online gambling casino, that is. Umm, thanks, estlibra@quickstockpower.com. I'm glad you love me and don't want me to die, and that you want me to win big. Merry freaking Christmas to you and yours.

I just finished up the last of my Christmas shopping, buying wishlist stuff for my e-friends and my Christmas present from my mom (because we could only find it online and she can't even turn on a computer, bless her), and now I'm officially all done. Now I just sit back and wait for it all to be over so we can get on with our lives. To paraphrase Mr. Garrison, Merry Freaking Christmas.

Speaking of Mr. Garrison, I forgot to watch the new Christmas episode of South Park last night. Around 8:30 I just wanted to go to bed, so I did. Naturally, once I did I couldn't sleep. Around 9:30 I realized that I'd just missed South Park. Oh, well. So I got up then and took a bunch of valerian and went back to bed, thinking I'd get a good night's sleep for once and wake up on time and be on time to work for a change. Of course, I overslept and didn't get here until 8:30....

In answer to my earlier question about Harmony's unicorn taking out a vamp when a plastic stake couldn't, Terrence said he's pretty sure that that was one of those painted wooden carousel unicorns, and not porcelain like I'd thought. But the whole plastic stake thing was still pretty lame.

Also, between him and Rich, all of my outlining questions are covered; thus going one more step towards proving my theory that all of the good men are either gay or already spoken for. And sometimes both.

I think that perhaps the biggest cause of my apparant inability to get along swimmingly with all of my co-workers is that there seems to be a huge age gap between them and me. Even those who are technically close to my age come across as being ages older than me. Maybe it's just a lack of maturity on my part, but they come across to me as impossibly adult, which is something I often doubt I'll ever be (and sometimes hope I'll never be), no matter how old I get.

I mean, I'm single, childless, sharing a house with my mom, preparing to finish college, still working jobs that are just jobs while just starting to build some semblance of an actual career, I get up on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons, eat cold pizza for breakfast and cereal for dinner, I'd rather spend five hours talking about the possible long term effects of a microchip restraint on a fictional vampire's brain than spend five minutes discussing politics, and just last night I danced wildly around my attic apartment to the Powerpuff Girls closing theme song (which, by the by, rocks). At 27 years old I am anything but a grown-up, and I often suspect that the people I work with have never been anything but grown-ups.

That said, I find it rather sad (somewhat cute, but mostly just sad) sometimes when the old people here gather together and attempt to be fun and playful. A bunch of them were just in the back chanting & barking their way through a rather loud rendition of "Who Let the [Audit] Dogs Out." I was thoroughly embarrassed for them. And I'm sorry, but I just can't bring myself to be a part of that sort of thing. Not even to raise my evaluation score. I do, after all, have a certain amount of dignity to protect (Powerpuff Girls dancing aside).

Y'know, I really wish I hadn't been spoiled on the Spike stakeage. I cheated myself out of a really good freaking out session during the halftime commercial break. Not to mention the enormous sense of relief that would have followed.

That's it. No more spoilers for me.

Do you know who really should have gotten a hook instead of a stupid plastic hand? Krychek. And where the hell has he been this season, anyway? Dogget needs to have a Krycheck encounter. Hell, I need to have a Krycheck encounter.

Wouldn't it be cool if Nick Lea crossed over to Buffy like that Donnie Pfaster guy did?

Buffy & Angel spoilers ahoy....

.

.

.

.

Firstly, Angel. What can I say, other than WHOA! He even fired Vision Girl! He's going to a bad place, he is. But the big question, at least for me, is what did D&D do with Lindsey? Did they spare him, did he go down with the rest, or (GASP!) do you think they might have turned him? Because if they did that would make up for all of the coolness lost when they didn't replace his hand with a hook or something cool like that. It might also make up for the bad hair he had the first half of the season. Vamp Lindsey. I'm all for that. Plus, being that he's from my home state and we both dropped out of the same university right around the same time, I've come to feel a certain sense of kinship towards Christian Kane, and I'd just really hate to see him leave the show.

Also, is there something to the fact that lawyers Lindsey and Lilah both have the initials L.M.? Or am I just paranoid and reading too much into that odd little coincidence?

And way to go Kate! Gettin' with the program! About damn time, too.

Drusilla rocks. But not as much as....

Spike. Poor, lovesick Spike, all chipped and helpless and frustrated, and yet still managing to come across as the baddest bad-ass around (next to Buffy) when anybody tries to mess with him. Well, anybody non-human, anyway, like that large vamp who tried to hassle him when he took Buffy to the brothel. He may be evil, but damn! is he ever cool. And unbelievably sexy. And did I mention downright beautiful? I'm sure I have, but it bears repeating.

Two things that bothered me: One, Riley's little joke with the plastic stake, which just was not even funny, but that's not what bothered me about it. If a stake has to be wooden to be lethal to a vampire, then somebody please explain to me how Buffy was able to dust that big vamp in last week's repeat with the horn of one of Harmony's porcelain unicorns. Continuity glitch? Or is there something I missed during the first three seasons, such as some kind of vampire immunity to plastic woodgrain?

And Xander. I just wanted to smack him (and no, not for declaring his love to Anya, that part got to me more than all of the Buffy & Riley scenes ever did and left me all farklempt, because I like Xander & Anya, dammit! And you know that this means something bad is going to happen to them, like maybe she really will get back into vengeance or something). Buffy may not have treated Riley like the love of her life, but she most certainly did not treat him like "the rebound guy." And what the hell is up with taking the side of the soon-to-be-ex boyfriend whom you haven't known very long and whom you really don't know all that well against one of your oldest and dearest friends? Riley is the guy who comes along once in a lifetime? Maybe Xander should have gone to the helicopter and declared his love to Riley instead of home to Anya. Sorry, but Captain Cardboard just ain't that special, which is why he's gone now.

That said, the ending pissed me off. It pissed me off that Buffy just suddenly decided that hey, maybe she does love Riley after all, the big galoot, and it pissed me off that she didn't get to tell him, and that if he just would have turned his head two inches to the left and looked out the freaking window he would have seen her there and at least would have known that she wanted him to stay, even if he did go to South America.

And it pissed me off that they finally introduced an interesting story for Riley, one which was rife with possibilities, and instead of exploring those possibilities they just shipped him off to South America.

It also pissed me off that the one person who finally managed to stake Spike was Riley, even if it didn't kill him. That was just adding insult to injury.

At any rate, he's gone now. I'll quietly mourn him, because I did like him, after all, but I'm glad he's out of the way, and we don't have to watch any more creepy fang-job scenes, and everybody can get on with their lives and the business of Dawn, Ben and Glory

Oh yeah, and Joyce isn't going to die. Yay Joyce.

TV Guide Online - The End of the Affair on Buffy?

Riley, Riley, Riley. We hardly knew ye.

Being that I've finally achieved some semblance of holiday spirit, I put together a Christmas-ish soundtrack for the day, which is as follows:

Rent (Original Broadway Cast) - Christmas Bells Are Ringing
South Park - Mr. Hanky
Sarah McLaughlan - Song for a Winter's Night
Angie Aparo - Silent Night
Space Ghost - Council of Doom Sings the 12 Days of Christmas
Nightmare Before Christmas Soundtrack - What's This?
NBXmas - Jack's Obsession
NBXmas - Town Meeting Song
South Park/Mr. Garrison - Merry F'ing Christmas
Judy Garland - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
South Park - The Dreidel Song
South Park/Kyle - Jew on Christmas
South Park/Cartman - O Holy Night
Vince Guaraldi Trio - Christmas Time is Here
VGT - Linus & Lucy (Peanuts theme)
VGT - What Child is This
Peanuts - Hark, The Herald Angels Sing
Jars of Clay - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
Nat King Cole - The Christmas Song
Rich Mullins - You Gotta Get Up (It's Christmas Morning)
Jars of Clay - Little Drummer Boy
Michael W. Smith - Sing We Now of Christmas
MWS w/ Amy Grant-Chapman-Gill - Emmanuel
And finally...
Jane Siberry - Calling All Angels

Well, I didn't have to work too hard to find the music from last night's episode. The song I asked bout earlier was "Calling All Angels" by Jane Siberry and K.D. Lang.

Last night I had my first real warm and fuzzy Christmassy feeling, and it came, of all places, from watching Roswell. Now I'm going to be all obsessed with finding mp3's of all of the music from last night's ep. Especially that song that played while Max (a.k.a. "Ears") was going 'round the hospital ward healing the little cancer kiddos. If anybody knows the title of that song and who sang it, please let me know.

I finished up my Christmas shopping yesterday. Of course, I had to buy a few things for myself as well. I've never been able to go shopping for other people without coming home with something for myself. I'm sure that says something about the extent of my inherent selfishness, but oh well. One of the things I bought for myself was a yoga video. Stop laughing. It was hard to find one that just takes you through the moves without all of the New Age or Eastern philosophy stuff that generally accompanies yoga, but I did, so I can work off my considerable Christian butt without any guilt (or having to endure any preaching from my conservative mother).

I also took Fizgig to Pet Smart (Pets Mart? whichever) and blew way too much money on him. Among other things, I bought him a tiny little rain coat (I know what you're thinking, but it's just an attempt to save my carpet. He refuses to go out in the--hey, wait a minute, I don't need to justify myself to you! I bought a tiny little rain coat for my tiny little doggy and if you don't like it you can just deal!), and some shampoo for white fur that will hopefully get the nasty brown stains out from under his gunky little eyes.

I also bought one of those pre-packaged Christmas stockings for my cat. I gave it to her as soon as I got home, because I just couldn't wait to see her reaction, which was ultimately to turn her prissy little nose up at every single item that I pulled out of the stocking and then go play instead with the drawstring on a pair of pants that was hanging on the closet door. I suppose there's a lesson to be inferred there about the joy of simple pleasures, but really I think she was just being a stuck up, ungrateful little bitch.

As long as I'm soliciting information from my readers, is there anybody out there who's had any experience with taking Adderal(sp?)? Lately I've noticed that my heart seems to be beating a bit faster than normal, which could be a side effect of the Ritalin. I'm thinking it might not be a bad idea to try a different med for a while.

Does anybody know the proper format for a proposal outline for a short article? All of my manuscript guidelines only tell how to format a book outline, but the magazine I'm querying wants a detailed outline of my proposed article, and I don't know how to write one. I mean, I know how to write an outline, but editors are really picky about things like proper spacing, sluglines, page numbering, where your name goes, etc. and I don't know what's correct. Any help anybody can give me will be much appreciated.

Speaking of which, Rich answered my question from Saturday, and he is now my new best friend.

"Buffy" spoilers ahoy...

.

.

.

Herc's Spoilerific "Buffy" Review-- This confirms my worst fears, but other stuff I'm reading leads me to believe that it's not as bad as it sounds. Which is mildly disappointing only in that the sick, sadistic bitch in me was looking forward to the conniption that would have been had by an unsuspecting Terrence had a certain someone been reduced to dust.

After I posted Saturday I lost my 'net connection and couldn't get back on (Stupid ISP. Stupid 28.8 modem.), and yesterday I didn't even try. Now that I'm at work (where do you think most of the small amount of enjoyment I derived from coming to the office stemmed from, anyway?) and I can get on, my web mail's not working (stupid Webbox). Eyuh.

I dreaded coming to work today (moreso than usual, that is), but now that I'm here the dread has passed. I must say, though, that what little enjoyment I did get out of coming here to work (and there was some enjoyment--not an overwhelming lot, but it was there) is now no more. Ah, well. Six months and counting...

By the way, it's only 9 days till Christmas. I didn't make any backgrounds for the weekends (seeing as how I don't usually blog on weekends), and I'm not ready to take Opus & Portnoy down yet, because they crack me up.

9 days till Christmas, and I've still some shopping to do, and I'm snowed in yet again. We had a mini-blizzard this morning that went on just long enough to re-cover the little bit that melted away yesterday. Plus it's supposed to ice or snow or something this Wednesday. If I'm lucky it'll warm up and melt enough tomorrow that I can go finish my shopping. Please, Mr. Cold Mizer (...he's Mr. Snow, he's Mr. White Christmas, he's Mr. 40 below!) give it a rest already!

Posting on a Saturday, to pose a question to (read: beg for help from) my more grammatically inclined readers: When naming a web site in a print article, should I italicize it just as I would a book or magazine title, or do I use quotation marks, or do I not do anything to it? What's the protocol on this? If you know, or even if you can make an educated guess to back up my educated guess, please tell me, and I'll be your new best friend.

I'm in a reasonably improved mood. I never did cry, though it was pretty touch-and-go this afternoon every time I went to the restroom.

When I got home I was glad that I live with my mommy, and that she was home, and that she was ready and willing to baby me just a bit. She listened while I told her about the evaluation, and about my frustrations with my job, and about the plan I came up with during the drive home, which is as follows: I'll attend one class this semester (on the company's dime) to get myself in the university's system and won't have to repeat the admission process in the summer, and I'll file for financial aide and/or apply for a student loan for future semesters so I'm not dependent on my company to pay my tuition. During this semester I'll save as much money as I possibly can, and I'll also line up as many freelance assignments as I can, and try to create a little cushion for myself. Then, in June, I'll quit my job, and either go back to temping and substitute teaching, or get a less demanding part time job, or (best case scenario) be able to bring in enough through freelancing to cover my bills and help my mom out each month. It means six more months in this job, and six months of going through the motions of actively pursuing the goals they gave me that they believe will turn me into Suzie Sunshine or Jo-Anne Normal, but it will be six months during which I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.

So my mom listened, and when I said "and then I'll quit" I almost broke down and cried as I felt a huge weight lift off of my shoulders, and for once, instead of telling me what she usually does when I try to talk to her about a bad day, that nobody likes their job but we still all have to work for a living, she actually sympathized with me, and not only that, she supported my plan. Then she came over and gave me a big hug and told me that everybody that matters thinks I have a great personality and wouldn't have me any other way, and I again came close to crying, but I held it back. I let her baby me and fix me dinner, but I could feel myself slipping into a funk anyway, so I headed up to my attic apartment to write.

Instead of writing, though, I sat and pouted and felt sorry for myself, until I got bored with that, then I got online and found that, Lo and Behold! Lish had sent me an e-card that said just what I needed to hear, and I snapped out of it. So I'm viewing this evaluation as the kick in the butt I needed to make me finally get up the nerve to do something about the only part of my life that I truly hate. Thank you, Corporate America, for reminding me that I'll never (thank God!) fit in among your ranks. And thank you, Lish, for the card.

Damn it, these people are not going to make me cry. No matter how much I feel like it, I'm not going to let them make me cry.

I have a feeling my resolve will break down by the time I get to my car tonight.

Jean is not a happy camper. Scratch that. Jean is not a happy employee.

I'm going to be spending this weekend getting my shit together and making plans, plans which include not working here anymore. When you have an evaluation that tells you your job performance is just fine but that your personality needs to change drastically, I'd say that's a good sign that you and your job are no longer a good fit (not that it was ever an especially comfortable fit to begin with). They want a joiner and a follower, someone who will attend all of the extra-curricular social engagements with a bright, perky smile on her face, whose job is her life, whose co-workers are her best friends, who bakes cookies every week and chats breezily with every single person who walks by her desk, every single time they walk by, while still managing to efficiently do the hundred-and-fifty different things that this job demands each day. I, gentle readers, am not that person. Obviously. They've been trying unsuccessfully to turn me into this person for three years, and now they've found a way to penalize me for resisting their assimilation techniques. Methinks it's high time to move on.

*SNIFF* I just had lunch for the last time (barring any special efforts to get together on occasion in the future) with my regular lunch crew. Starting Monday they'll be working across town in a newly refurbished building. Whoop-de-damn-do for them. Now I've nobody with whom to go eat lunch, and nobody with whom to talk about my shows like the all important life-and-death matters that they are. The pain will be especially felt come Wednesday. Oh, how I'll be a-hurtin'.

On the up side, now that I'll be spending lunch hours at my desk drinking Slim Fast (and maybe I can spend part of that time stair jogging, too), I shouldn't have too much trouble losing my holiday weight, and that last 20 pounds I've never been able to get rid of besides. Always look on the bright side ...

Tess just sent me this. I like to think it's spot-on accurate. Remember, that's Jean, with a "J."

How Sexy Is Your Name?

According to studies, the first letter of your first name reveals your sexual identity ... What do you think?

A- You are not particularly romantic, but you are interested in action. You mean business. With you, what you see is what you get. You have no patience for flirting and can't be bothered with someone who is trying to be coy, cute, demure, and subtly enticing. You are an up front person. When it comes to sex, it's action that counts not obscure hints. Your mate's physical attractiveness is important to you. You find the chase and challenge of the "hunt" invigorating. You are passionate and sexual as well as being much more adventurous than you appear; however, you do not go around advertising these qualities. Your physical needs are your primary concern.

B- You give off vibes of lazy sensuality. You enjoy being romanced, wined, and dined. You are very happy to receive gifts as an expression of the affection of your lover. You want to be pampered and know how to pamper your mate. You are private in your expression of endearments and particularly when it comes to lovemaking. You will hold off until everything meets with your approval. You can control your appetite and abstain from sex if need be. You require new sensations and experiences. You are willing to experiment.

C- You are a very social individual, and it is important to you to have a relationship. You require closeness and togetherness. You must be able to talk to your sex partner before, during, and after. You want the object of your affection to be socially acceptable and good looking. You see your lover as a friend and companion. You are very sexual and sensual, needing someone to appreciate and almost worship you. When this cannot be achieved, you have the ability to go for long periods
without sexual activity. You are an expert at controlling your desires and doing without.

D- Once you get it into your head that you want someone, you move full steam ahead in pursuit. You do not give up your quest easily. You are nurturing and caring. If someone has a problem, this turns you on. You are highly sexual, passionate, loyal, and intense in your involvement, sometimes possessive and jealous. Sex to you is a pleasure to be enjoyed. You are stimulated by the eccentric and unusual, having a free and open mind.

E- Your greatest need is to talk. If your date is not a good listener, you have trouble relating. A person must be intellectually stimulating or you are not interested sexually. You need a friend for a lover and a companion for a bedmate. You hate disharmony and disruption, but you do enjoy a good argument once in a while it seems to stir things up. You flirt a lot, for the challenge is more important than the sexual act for you, but once you give your heart away, you are uncompromisingly
loyal. When you don't have a good lover to fall asleep with, you will fall asleep with a good book. (Sometimes, in fact, you prefer a good book.)

F- You are idealistic and romantic, putting your lover on a pedestal. You look for the very best mate you can find. You are a flirt, yet once committed, you are very loyal. You are sensuous, sexual, and privately passionate. Publicly, you can be showy, extravagant, and gallant. You are born romantic. Dramatic love scenes are your favorite fantasy pastime. You can be a very generous lover.

G- You are fastidious, seeking perfection within yourself and your lover. You respond to a lover who is your intellectual equal or superior, and one who can enhance your status. You are sensuous and know how to reach the peak of erotic stimulation, because you work at it meticulously. You can be extremely active sexually that is, when you find the time. Your duties and responsibilities take precedence over everything else. You may have difficulty getting emotionally close to a lover, but no
trouble getting close sexually.

H- You seek a mate who can enhance your reputation and earning ability. You will be very generous to your lover once you have attained a commitment. Your gifts are actually an investment in your partner. Before the commitment, though, you tend to be frugal in your spending and dating habits and equally cautious in your sexual involvement. You are a sensual and patient lover.

I- You have a great need to be loved, appreciated... Even worshipped. You enjoy luxury, sensuality, and pleasures of the flesh. You look for lovers who know what they are doing. You are not interested in an amateur, unless that amateur wants a tutor. You are fussy and exacting about having your desires satisfied. You are willing to experiment and try new modes of sexual expression. You bore easily and thus require sexual adventure and change. You are more sensual than sexual, but
you are sometimes downright lustful.

J- You are totally fucking marvelous!

(I swear I didn't make that one up. --J.)

K- You can be very romantic, attached to the glamour of love. Having a partner is of paramount importance to you. You are free in your expression of love and are willing to take chances, try new sexual experiences and partners, provided it's all in good taste. Brains turn you on. You must feel that your partner is intellectually
stimulating, otherwise you will find it difficult to sustain the relationship. You require loving, cuddling, wining, and dining to know that you're being appreciated.

L- You are very romantic, idealistic, and somehow you believe that to love means to suffer. You wind up serving your mate or attracting people who have unusual troubles. You see yourself as your lover's savior. You are sincere, passionate, lustful, and dreamy. You can't help falling in love. You really enjoy stimulating yourself, though you are fairly new to it. You fantasize and get turned on by movies and magazines. You do not tell others of this secret life, nor of your sexual fantasies.

M- You are emotional and intense. When involved in a relationship, you throw your entire being into it. Nothing stops you; there are no holds barred. You are all consuming and crave someone who is equally passionate and intense. You believe in total sexual freedom. You are willing to try anything and everything. Your supply of sexual energy is inexhaustible. You also enjoy mothering your mate.

N- You are crap in bed. Much practice and learning is needed.

(HA! --J.)

O- You are very interested in sexual activities yet secretive and shy about your desires. You can re-channel much of your sexual energy into making money and/or seeking power. You can easily have extended periods of celibacy. You are a passionate, compassionate, sexual lover, requiring the same qualities from your mate. Sex is serious business; thus you demand intensity and diversity, and are willing to try anything or anyone. Sometimes your passions turn to possessiveness, which
must be kept in check.

P- You are very conscious of social proprieties. You wouldn't think of doing anything that might harm your image or reputation. Appearances count, therefore, you require a good-looking partner. You also require an intelligent partner. Oddly enough, you may view your partner as your enemy; A good fight stimulates those sex vibes. You are relatively free of sexual hang-ups. You are willing to experiment and try new ways of doing things. You are very social and sensual; you enjoy flirting
and need a good deal of physical gratification.

Q- You require constant activity and stimulation. You have tremendous physical energy. It is not easy for a partner to keep up with you, sexually or otherwise. You are an enthusiastic lover and tend to be attracted to people of other ethnic groups. You need romance, hearts and flowers, and lots of conversation to turn you on and keep you going.

R- You are a no-nonsense, action-oriented individual. You need someone who can keep pace with you and who is your intellectual equal the smarter the better. You are turned on more quickly by a great mind than by a great body. However, physical attractiveness is very important to you. You have to be proud of your partner. You are privately very sexy, but you do not brag, you are willing to serve as teacher. Sex is important; you can be a very demanding playmate.

S- You are secretive, self-contained, and shy. You are very sexy, sensual, and passionate, but you do not let on to this. Only in intimate privacy will this part of your nature reveal itself. When it gets down to the nitty-gritty, you are an expert. You know all the little tricks of the trade, can play any role or any game, and take your love life very seriously. You don't fool around. You have the patience to wait for the right person to come along.

T- You are very sensitive, private, and sexually passive; you like a partner who takes the lead. Music, soft lights and romantic thoughts turn you on. You fantasize, but do not tend to fall in and out of love easily. When in love, you are romantic, idealistic, mushy, and extremely intense. You enjoy having your senses and your feelings stimulated, titillated, and teased. You are a great flirt. You can make your relationships fit your dreams, oftentimes all in your own head.

U- You are enthusiastic and idealistic when in love. When not in love, you are in love with love, always looking for someone to adore. You see romance as a challenge. You are a roamer and need adventure, excitement, and freedom. You deal in potential relationships. You enjoy giving gifts and enjoy seeing your mate looking good. Your sex drive is strong and you desire instant gratification. You are willing to put your partner's pleasures above your own.

V- You are individualistic, and you need freedom, space, and excitement. You wait until you know someone well before committing yourself. Knowing someone means psyching him out. You feel a need to get into his head to see what makes him tick. You are attracted to eccentric types. Often there is an age difference between you and your lover. You respond to danger, thrills, and suspense. The gay scene turns you on, even though you yourself may not be a participant.

W- You are very proud, determined, and you refuse to take no for an answer when pursuing love. Your ego is at stake. You are romantic, idealistic, and often in love with love itself, not seeing your partner as he or she really is. You feel deeply and throw all of yourself into your relationships. Nothing is too good for your lover. You enjoy playing love games.

X- You need constant stimulation because you bore quickly. You can handle more than one relationship at a time with ease. You can't shut off your mind. You talk while you make love. You can have the greatest love affairs, all by yourself, in your own head.

Y- You are sexual, sensual, and very independent. If you can't have it your way, you will forgo the whole thing. You want to control your relationships, which doesn't always work out too well. You respond to physical stimulation, enjoy necking and spending hours just touching, feeling and exploring. However, if you can spend your time making money, you will give up the pleasures of the flesh for the moment. You need to prove to yourself and your partner what a great lover you are. You want
feedback on your performance. You are an open, stimulating, romantic bedmate.

Z- For you, it is business before pleasure. If you are in any way bothered by career, business, or money concerns, you find it very hard to relax and get into the mood. You can be romantically idealistic to a fault and are capable of much sensuality. But you never lose control of your emotions. You are very careful and cautious before you give your heart away and your body, for that matter. Once you make the commitment, though, you stick like glue.

...

You know, this is just further proof that James Marsters and I belong together.

To the person who searched for ritalin dog--not sure what your intent was, but dude, don't give ritalin to your dog. Seriously.

It's called Queen of the Damned, and Tom's not in this one. And by all accounts, it's probably going to suck (no pun intended).

Which Scooby are you?

Apparantly, I'm a Xander, which is disturbingly accurate (except for that whole dating a woman thing):

Xander--We know, you're much smarter than people give you credit for. All that wisecracking and sarcasm is actually the sign of a very astute mind - trapped in the body of a slacker. Sure, you're smart, but you can also be pretty lazy, especially when it comes to school. It's not that you don't care - you do. It's just that it's hard for you to focus on the stuff you don't want to deal with. And getting good grades is as much about working hard as it is about smarts. But hey, that's a good thing! All you've gotta do is concentrate, and you'll be on your way to straight A's - or whatever else you want. Stop dreaming about discovering the Matrix and work on learning kung fu yourself! Don't let your fear of failure stop you. The only reason you ever do fail is because you don't try! We have faith in you. Now all you need is faith in yourself.

I finally made it to work (good thing too, since I'm down to my last paid day off), thanks to my big brother, who spent the majority of yesterday digging our cars out of the snow. We got no less than a foot of snow in my neck of the woods, which may not seem like much to you Yanks, but down here that is a hell of a lot of snow, and we were all pretty ill prepared to deal with it.

Yesterday I finally gave up on feeling guilty and needing to be productive, and gave myself a little holiday. I'm now caught up on all of my comics and Netflix rentals. Among the latter was Brazil. Since it's one of my brother's favorite movies, and since he was working so hard digging out and winterizing my car, I waited until he was finished, then we (we being him, me, and our mom, whose birthday was yesterday. I gave her a Van Gogh jigsaw puzzle. I'm pretty sure she liked it. She was supposed to go to a Christmas party last night, but it was cancelled due to the snow. I think she had a good birthday anyway.) popped popcorn and made snow icees and settled in to watch the movie. What a wierd, wondrous flick. I liked it, but I think that if I watch it again without my mom asking questions and my brother giving a running commentary of all of his favorite scenes I'll get to like it even more. At any rate, it made me think of the news that Terry Gilliam will be directing the film version of Good Omens, which made me all giddy over how good that film should be, provided the studio doesn't do anything to fowl it up.

There are thirty messages in my Outlook inbox, and I haven't even checked my personal e-mail yet. I had best get to it, hadn't I?

It snowed last night. We're up to about six inches, which is quite a lot for Oklahoma, and it's still coming down. Needless to say, I didn't go to work today.

I watched the Buffy & Angel re-runs last night, and both showed teasers for new episodes next week. The Buffy teaser closely matched the upsetting spoiler I read, so now I'm all distressed.

I'm going to go make some coffee and watch the snow fall and try to put it out of my mind.

My God, how bored do you gotta be to venture there?

Okie-dokie then! Look what somebody just sent me:

Subject: Superman is modeled after Jesus?

Superman’s original name is Kal-El. El is Hebrew for God.

Like Jesus, Superman has no earthly father and is "virgin-born" out of a womb-like cave when he comes to earth.

Superman is sent to earth in a spaceship that looks like a nativity star.

Jonathan and Martha Kent, who I believe represent in Joseph and Mary, are passing by at that moment. They’ve been praying for a little boy.

Some Bible scholars believe that Jesus’ father Joseph died when
Jesus was an adolescent. And, sure enough, Clark Kent’s father died
when Clark was in high school.

Superman then goes to the Fortress of Solitude, which has parallels with Jesus’ wilderness experience early in his ministry.

And in the Fortress of Solitude, Superman dons the suit, which is like
the baptism of the Holy Spirit.

Superman also has an enemy named Lex Luthor, which sounds sort of like Lucifer.

Lex Luthor tempts Superman in a way similar to how Lucifer tempted Jesus.

—David Bruce, founder of the Hollywood Jesus Web site
Christianity Online, September/October 1999

Well, the roads cleared, so I made it to work today. I'm in a pretty decent mood anyway, though, due in no small part to the story I began yesterday. I'm really very pleased with it. I think I'm actually going to try to publish this one. It's been years since I've tried to sell any of my fiction (not counting the time I submitted my manuscript earlier this year... that was just a practice run).

I found out a few minutes ago that my application to Rogers was accepted. I'd go enroll right now if the roads weren't so damned scary. Someone called into the news a while ago to say that they were driving behind a sand truck -- because, you know, the safest place to be on icy roads, if you can't be in a sand truck or a snow plow, would be behind either of the two, right? -- when said sand truck lost control and plowed into a semi. Yeesh.

So instead I'm staying put, eating my mom's fresh baked gingerbread cookies, which are quite excellent with tea, and trying to resist the urge to go lose myself in tasteless daytime television. I'm trying to do writerly things, because, after all, I do claim to be a writer, even though I haven't felt much like one lately.

Miscellaneous poetic entries found in an old journal (first in a series):

The subtlety of who I am hides behind the flamboyance of what I want to be.

Yeah, I don't know what that means either.

And a couple of poems...

A promise is broken,
A vow is shattered,
Forgiveness
Cannot be found.

Faith is lost,
Love is battered,
Hope is not around.

Rings mean nothing,
Merely trinkets;
Dreams are crushed on the ground.

Forever means nothing.
The circle is broken;
It's no longer perfectly round.

Geez. Uplifting much? No? How 'bout this one then?

Why, Father,
Do you make things so hard,
Giving me only inches
When I give you yards?
Springing like a steel trap
Each time I try
To find my own way--
Won't you cut the tie
That keeps me in the nest?
I'm doing my best,
But you must give me
Freedom to fly.

I remember when I wrote that last one. I was twenty years old, it was about a week or two before I would move to Norman to attend OU, so I still lived at home. It was around midnight, and I was up, doing whatever it is that twenty-year-olds do around midnight in their parents' house, when my dad came home from work. The first thing he did upon arriving home was storm back to my room, pound on the door until I opened it, then curse me out for still being up at that hour. Reminding him that I was twenty years old, hadn't had a bed time for at least three years, and had no reason to get up in the morning only made him angrier. He shouted something about his house, his rules, he'd be g-damned if I didn't respect them, or I'd be out on my ass, yada yada, then he stood there and watched until I got into bed and turned out my light. I remember laying there, afraid to move or make a sound, until he I could hear the sound of him snoring over the television, then I got up and locked my door, lit a candle to write by, and wrote a frantic journal entry about running away from home, then became indignant over the thought that I was twenty years old and considering running away from home. I scribbled that poem after I'd calmed down considerably.

I loved my dad. Really.

Anyway.

I had the best intentions of trying to finish (or get real close to finishing) my manuscript re-writes today, but when I saved those chapters off of my work PC I forgot to put them in a format that my crap-top could handle, so that's a no go. Then I tried to work on a few of my many other works-in-progress, but the words just wouldn't come. Now I think I have the glimmerings of a new story floating around my brain, but I think this one prefers to be handwritten. I think I'll go work on that now. Right after I go get some more cookies and tea.

I did most of my Christmas shopping yesterday, hoping it would put me in a holiday kind of mood, but instead I just feel relieved to have gotten it over with, and bad about the way in which I went about it. Usually I try to put a lot of thought into what to get each person on my list, and get obsessed with getting just the right gift. This year, with a few exceptions, I just picked out a stock gift for all of the female adults on my list, and another for each male, and basically got everybody the same thing. I just couldn't be bothered to think about it. Just like I couldn't be bothered to put up the tree or any other decorations this year. Christmas this year feels much less like something to anticipate and more like something to just get through. I'll be glad when it's over.

I partially blame the stores for this feeling, for trotting out their Christmas displays this year no later than August. By the time we actually reached the holiday season I'd already had my fill of all things Christmassy. I feel like Charlie Brown did before the gang perked up his pathetic little tree and showed him they understood the true meaning of Christmas. Hey, that's on tonight, innit? Maybe that will help to get me in the mood.

It's snowing now, which is nice, guess, because if you're going to be stuck at home anyway, you might as well have something pretty to look at. Of course, this doesn't bode well for my chances of getting to work tomorrow. For all of my complaining, I actually would like to be able to get into the office for at least a little while, because my computer there is so much nicer than this little old piece of crap laptop with the 28.8 modem that I'm working on now. Plus, there's the added bonus of being able to work without the constant presence of a poodle in my lap. One who, apparantly, has just taken to reaching his paw out and randomly slapping at keys while I'm trying to type. I think it's a bid for even more attention. Lord, but this dog is needy.

Stuck! We had an ice storm last night, and it looks like I'm not going anywhere for a while. I almost fell on my arse a couple of times trying to walk to my car, then I couldn't get out of the driveway without sliding off into the front yard. So, I did what any sane person would do, I abandoned my car, slid back to the house, and called the office to say I would not be in today. The good is that I get an extended weekend. The bad is that I actually have a couple of deadlines to beat today. The ugly is that since I'm a lowly administrative assistant I haven't been given telecommuting capabilities, so I can't do anything about it. My supervisor, who did make it into work, natch, is going to take care of the most urgent stuff for me, which is good, but now I've got guilt.

Y'know, I was a pretty good speller all through school, and I scored pretty decently on my ACT's (not super genius or anything, but well above average), and the highest of those scores was in reading and vocabulary. Yet the older I get, the more often I find myself referring to a dictionary, not only to check the spelling of a word, but to make sure I'm using it correctly. I used to tease my mom whenever she'd check with me on how to spell a word, and she always said that you tend to not retain that knowledge as you get older. I guess she was right, bugger it all.

I like Peter's Christmas design. Unabashed garishness is one of the joys of the holiday season.

Wow. Bryan Busch really looks a lot like his dad. Except for the hair.

All of this Grinch stuff on my page just reminded me that I really want to see Seussical the Musical. The cast performed a couple of scenes in the Macy's parade and it looked to be a great show.

Watching--or rather, sobbing my way through--ER last night, I had flashbacks to the first time I saw Top Gun. "No! Not Goose!" Damn that show.

I keep getting listings in my referral logs for blogs that haven't actually linked to me (and no, they're not next to me on the webloggers ring, either). Weird.

Now people are going to be linking to me, clicking the link, then deleting it, just to screw with me, aren't they?

Or is that just the sort of thing I'd do?

I just read a rather upsetting rumored spoiler over on the Mighty Big TV forums about the next new ep. of BtVS. I don't know whether or not I want it to be true. If it's true it means James Marsters (He who rules) will have a lot of screen time (and there was much rejoicing!) and will become a major player in the season's second half (and there was much rejoicing!); but it would also mean that... well, I can't tell you, because it's a spoiler and all, but it was upsetting enough to make me gasp and cover my mouth and then shout "No!" regardless of the fact that my supervisor was in earshot.

I am way too into this show.

And damn me and my curiosity for reading spoilers, anyway! I don't know why I do it and I always hate myself for it afterwards. I want to be shocked and surprised when I watch the show. But if what I read turns out to be accurate, then I'll be glad to have been emotionally prepared for the eventuality.

Only 12 more days till I get to find out if it's true...

You should feel special, Rich. He never bothered to introduce me to Brian, and we actually lived in the same town.

I finally saw Dogma last night (now I just need to see Chasing Amy and I'll be all caught up on the View Askew universe). It was funny, natch, but it reminded me of Good Omens, which was even funnier (I can't wait until they make that movie). Sure, Dogma had Jay & Silent Bob, but Good Omens had Dog. Anyway.

Now I keep thinking that Alan Rickman would make a pretty good Aziraphael.

Actually Tegan, it was Tony the Tiger (he's grrrrrrrreat!) who sang "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" in the animated version (Boris Karloff narrated and provided the Grinch's speaking voice). It wasn't supposed to be the Grinch singing about himself. That was one of the many little things that added up to me not loving the Jim Carrey version. I didn't hate it, but it's a pretty good example of why you just shouldn't tamper with a classic.

I still think Tim Curry would have made a kick-ass Grinch.

BtVS Animated Series -- I love Buffy, and I love quality animation. Thus, I'm positive that, had I slept last night, I'd be reeeeally excited about this.

link swiped from Terrence who swiped it from here in the first place.

Can you imagine how much better the world would be if we were each able to schedule our lives around our biological clocks instead of forcing our bodies to conform to a standard societal schedule? It would really cut down on sleep deprivation, for one thing, which would in turn cut down on a lot of accidents, and would probably also lead to a lot fewer cases of irritability and general pissiness. Plus, those of us whose bodies and brains just can't accept the fact that 10 PM to 5 AM is meant for sleeping would actually be able to spend those hours being productive and creative without fear of retribution in the form of having to struggle through our jobs, classes, or what have you without having had enough sleep. I know that I, for one, would be a much better person for it. This is actually my main goal in life: to be in a position where I can sleep when I need to and be awake when I don't feel like sleeping. All of my other goals--writing, being self employed, etc.--are really just a means to that end.

Need I mention that I couldn't sleep last night?

I'm just old enough to remember having seen that. God, but it was cheesey. And not a good Ed Wood or MST3K kind of cheesey, either. Of course, at the time I thought it was the best durn thing on TV, but then, I was only 5.

I'm not sure if it really happened or if I hallucinated this part, but I'm pretty sure that Princess Leia performed her musical disco number in a gold lamé bathing suit on a beach surrounded by droids. Yasiree, Terrence, you really missed out.

I think I'd be in a much better mood today if tonight's Buffy & Angel weren't going to be re-runs.

Our HR department (which must be secretly run by Catbert) is now requiring all employees to file a development plan. This sounds a lot easier than it is, especially when you have no corporate ambition whatsoever. None. Nada. Zilch. Goose-eggs.

Here are my goals, as pertaining to my "career" with this company:

1. Do the job I'm getting paid to do
2. Keep my job until I finish my degree (or sell my manuscript for an unreasonable amount of money, whichever happens first
3. Get myself the hell away from this nightmare succubus that is the corporate world before it leeches away every last ounce of my capacity for joy.

Somehow I don't think those goals will fly with my supervisor.

Addendum: Tess just said I should put down that my goal is to try and make it through the day without biting anyone. I don't think that one would go over too well either, even if it is true.

Because I'm all about the joining in ...

My top five guilty pleasures are....

• Lexx
• DBZ fanfic
• chocolate chip cookie dough, right out of the package
• "Babe" by Styx
• Jerry Bruckheimer movies

....but not necessarily in that order.

Remember that e-mail that was floating around a few years back with the story about a little kid who was trying to buy a pair of gold houseshoes for his mom but didn't have enough money? The boy said that his mom's been sick and he wants to give her these special shoes so she can wear them when she goes to meet Jesus, and when the narrator heard this he forked over the rest of the amount so the kid could buy the shoes. That e-mail made me cry.

Well, a group called Newsong went and turned it into a song. They played it on the radio on my way into work this morning. At first I thought it was funny that a piece of chain spam got turned into a song, but then about half way through the song I broke down and started bawling. By the time I got to work I'd pretty much cried all of my makeup off, and now I'm all red and puffy and sniffly. Bastards.

I am sorely in need of some inspiration. Everything is blah.

I'll have to tape tonight's installment of Dune, since there is no way I can watch part one in time for part two. And Roswell's a re-run. Maybe I'll just go home and finish that story. Or maybe I'll read my new book. Or maybe I'll just go to bed. Or maybe I'll be frozen under the weight of indecision and end up watching TV anyway just so's I don't have to think about what to do. Yeah, maybe that.

"Perhaps if you were on the show more, you'd get less cheese."

press nothing to continue

So. Friday was our bi-annual staff meeting. There was no good reason for me to be there, just as there was no good reason for me to attend the last 6 of them, because never do they touch on anything even remotely relevant to my position, but this has never kept them from requiring me to be there, so I went. I don't mind the December meetings as much as the summer meetings, because it's only one day, we're not required to stay overnight, and there are presents. We end each December meeting with a White Elephant gift exchange. This was my fourth such meeting. The first year I got out of there with the dinosaur shaped staple remover that graces my front page. The last two years I ended up with a Dilbert desk calendar. This year I drew the much coveted number 1, which meant that I got to go back at the end and pick anything I wanted out of the pool, since I didn't have the opportunity to steal from anybody the first time around. I ended up taking home $20 worth of AMC gift certificates. Much better than the first gift I opened, a stuffed Rudolph that dances and sings "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer." They also fed me, and it was very good food, too. And since there was no need for me to pay attention to any of the presentations during the meeting, I managed to write about four pages of a new story I'm working on that you don't get to read.

Saturday Tess and I used our season theater tickets to attend a performance of Showboat. It was very long. We then did some shopping, but not Christmas shopping because I haven't made up that list yet. I bought a pair of pants and a copy of Merrick.

I actually bought the book before the pants, and when I went to pay for the pants, I laid my Waldenbooks bag on top of the counter, face down, so you could still make out the book through the plastic bag. The salesperson who was ringing up my pants (that sounds a tetch kinky, don't it?) glanced at it and exclaimed "Ooh! Anne Rice!" and grabbed the bag and started to take the book out. She had it pulled out part way before she stopped and looked at me and said "Umm, do you mind?" "Does it make a difference?" I was thinking, but I just told her to go ahead. It didn't annoy me as much as it might have because it led to a nice little fangirl discussion, but still, salespeople, don't go 'round digging through your customers' other shopping bags without permission. It might not be so well received.

After shopping we went to see "Little Nicky" (already putting those AMC gift certificates to use). It was okay, typical Adam Sandler fair. Before the movie I got a chance to let loose my inner bitch, which had been itching to get out ever since the saleslady helped herself to my book. A group of young teen/pre-teen girls filed in and filled up a good portion of the row directly in front of us, and they were all very giggly, perky, bouncy, enthusiastic, and loud -- you know, all those things I can't stand. Then one of them stood up and announced to the entire theater "I just want everybody to know that today's my birthday--" she paused and looked directly at me, and I suppose she was waiting for me to tell her happy birthday. Instead I looked at her, smiled, and said, "We don't care." She made a pouty face and sat back down.

That's right. I'm mean. Deal.

Sunday I wrote another page or so of the above mentioned story, did laundry, and started reading Merrick. I also taped Dune and watch X-Files, so please don't anybody spoil Dune for me. I actually never watched the first movie and have never read the book, so I'm not familiar with the story.

X-Files was sufficiently creepy, and Agent Dogget just got interesting. I hope they don't take too long to fill us in on the backstory that was alluded to last night.

?!

I'm glad he's going to keep up his personal site, even though I never wrote him to tell him that I'd hate to see him discontinue his personal site, which I definitely intended to do, but, you know ... anyway, Erich, I'm glad you're not leaving us.

You know, I actually had a rather busy weekend, but right now none of it seems worth mentioning. Maybe after I've had some more coffee I'll feel like telling you some of it.