So. Completely. Comatose. Seriously people, if ever my nose was in danger it would be now, from the imminent threat of hitting my keyboard. My intestines seem to have decided that not only will I be utterly unable to consume coffee, now tea is getting a little too strong for me. Tea. This is the drink that genteel English ladies whose ribs were being crushed by corsets and thus were prone to fainting would drink. Not whiskey. Tea. I am old before my time. I've been greying since I was 15, and apparently my intestines are joining in the line of stuff to go early. Next will be something equally weird no doubt, like my toenails. Ooo, actually, my knuckles have been getting stiff and achy... but that's probably from my secret double life as a vinyl-catsuit-clad Woman of Mystery. Too much punching bad guys.
So that's enough random stream of consciousness for one afternoon when I'm supposed to be working, I suppose.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Post HP7 Let Down - very mild spoilers
I wrote this the Monday after Harry Potter 7 came out but I didn't have this blog yet to post it on, so here it is, a bit after the fact:
I can't concentrate. I o.d.'d on Harry Potter this weekend (I really wanted to avoid spoilers...) and now I'm totally distracted. First I'm bummed that I'm not a witch. Yes, thank you peanut gallery, I realize I can be witchy. You know what I mean. Then if I can't be magical, maybe I could be Harry's cool American cousin, whom he comes to visit to recoup after his big battle. Except he's fictional. Okay, then how about I be J.K. Rowling. Um, sure, go right ahead, Kaiser. You do that then. Okay, fine, I'll just go look at pictures of Daniel Radcliff. Um, I could be his MOTHER. Sure, I would have been 15, but more scandalous things have happened. So that doesn't work.
So here I am, stuck in my utterly muggly, unglamorous office, trying to force a spreadsheet out of my brain and into my computer. And it ain't working. Obviously it's time for that fabulous career as an International Woman of Mystery. But it's a little hot out for vinyl catsuits...
I can't concentrate. I o.d.'d on Harry Potter this weekend (I really wanted to avoid spoilers...) and now I'm totally distracted. First I'm bummed that I'm not a witch. Yes, thank you peanut gallery, I realize I can be witchy. You know what I mean. Then if I can't be magical, maybe I could be Harry's cool American cousin, whom he comes to visit to recoup after his big battle. Except he's fictional. Okay, then how about I be J.K. Rowling. Um, sure, go right ahead, Kaiser. You do that then. Okay, fine, I'll just go look at pictures of Daniel Radcliff. Um, I could be his MOTHER. Sure, I would have been 15, but more scandalous things have happened. So that doesn't work.
So here I am, stuck in my utterly muggly, unglamorous office, trying to force a spreadsheet out of my brain and into my computer. And it ain't working. Obviously it's time for that fabulous career as an International Woman of Mystery. But it's a little hot out for vinyl catsuits...
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