There’s only 7 years to go before it’s 2015, which is the year that Marty McFly and Doc Brown teleport to in their atomic souped-up DeLorean. I have been waiting for my frickin’ flying car ever since the end of Back to the Future, when Doc says, “Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”
Seven. Years. That’s not a lot of time. Toyota, GMC, Ford … all you bastards better get on it.
I want my flying car that runs on garbage, goddammit.
Why are there not more hours in a day???
…
That is all.
Reminder to self: things that are unimportant are not worth arguing about. Also, many other things are not worth arguing about, because they are only important to me. And some things, there is no way to state your position without sounding like an ass.
That is all.
*I can’t remember where I first saw this image (somewhere around the blogosphere), so I found it again by Googling “come to bed someone on the internet is wrong”. It was the first image that popped up, and reminded me why I love the internet so much.
ETA: Now I remember. *headdesk* It’s from the xkcd strip.
–My husband, after I dared to step on the scale for the first time in a year, and realized that I’d gained 10 lbs.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKK!”
–My husband, two seconds later.
“Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhh!”
–Meljean, minute 30 in the gym this morning.
Arrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!
W000000000000000000000000000000000T!
*soooooooooooooooooooooooooobbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb*
D’oh!
Yayayayayayayay!
Gah!!
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL! LMAO! LMFAO! ROTFLMAO!
WTF?
*cries*
*headdesk*
*crazy happy dance*
…okay, I’m almost ready for the release. Reviews are coming in (like this one). I’m putting my head down and going to pretend not to see (until, of course, I do a round up next week while massively pimping my book. I’m buying a pimp hat just for the occasion.)
So we meet again, Automated Postal Center. I see you were intimidated by my mad MacGyver skills that time you tried to eat my debit card, and so you have dreamed up new and horrid trials for me to overcome, new ways to thwart me.
And you have almost succeeded.
At midnight last night, I felt supremely confident entering your domain. My debit-card dropping daughter was safe at home. There were no lines out the door, which was why I had waited until such an ungodly hour to go to the post office. I had only two packages to send, and both were domestic. Two ARCs, no larger than a trade-sized book.
I used you, APC, oh yes. I used you like the bitch you are. I got my postage, slapped it on.
And that is when you bitch-slapped me.
Because, apparently, I can no longer send any package after regular postal hours. The blue bin next to you–I usually take such pleasure opening its steel maw–was locked. A new sign was up that said everything over 13 oz had to be brought to the counter. No sending trade-sized books. No sending anything except envelopes–even those official ExpressMail boxes that the postal employees have so nicely put out for our use have nowhere to go.
So, you’ve got me, APC. I’ll have to brave the lines at the post office, after all.
…but it does beg the question: what use are you, then? You’re like an ATM without money. If I need a stamp for an envelope, I’ll just use the stamp vending machine. So, pfft on you.
There’s only one way: tuna fish and noodles, which I made today as comfort food since my plans for the weekend, such as GOING UP TO SEATTLE TO DO RESEARCH AND MOSTLY TO CELEBRATE RICHELLE‘S NEW RELEASE, SUCCUBUS BLUES, IN STORES NOW! are totally shot.
*huff*
*huff*
This crap isn’t as good as I remember it, either. Maybe I need to mix in some peas and crush some Saltines in it, because I’m not feeling the comfort. Actually, it’s kind of gross. Great. Now am I not only missing a party, but have become a haughty lower-middle-class beeeeyotch who can’t appreciate the finer things in life, like tuna noodles.
I still like Mac & Cheese though (but only the generic brand kind. Kraft isn’t so good.)
So, I’ve mentioned before that I make a music playlist for my WIP. A lot of the songs I originally had were country-slanted, but except for a few, that didn’t work out. The feel of the WIP has changed too much for me, but I couldn’t find the exact sound I was looking for … until the other day, when I was watching an X-Files rerun, and I thought about the David Duchovny song, and then I remembered: Bree Sharp!
Like most X-Philes, I bought the A Cheap and Evil Girl CD just for the David Duchovny song … but the whole CD was pretty damn good. She’s got kind of a scratchy voice, and her lyrics are smart, modern and cynical, but without being nihilistic. And a few of the songs are EXACTLY what I’m trying to capture for the WIP.
But I can’t find my CD. I’ve turned the house upside-down today looking for it, and I can’t find it. So I calm myself down, and think: okay, I’ll just buy it on iTunes.
Except it’s not available. *sob* Only a few tracks in a live concert version, and I really prefer the original studio recordings.
So I go to Amazon. They only have used copies (or a new copy for $75). I don’t know about you, but there’s something that just eeks me out about buying a used CD. I can buy used books, used clothes, whatever — but a used CD? Maybe it’s because I’m not all that careful with mine (obviously, since I’ve lost it) but I just don’t like the idea. I’m still looking for a new copy (Tower Records doesn’t have one, and even though I’ve searched the bittorrents, there’s nothing) … and I’m about to buy the used copy. Gah!
But at least the WIP will start sounding right.
LINK OF THE DAY: Here’s a bit of irony. At Bree Sharp’s Myspace site, she has a couple of her music videos from YouTube linked … and one has been removed for copyright violation.
So, the new release date is supposedly November 22. I really, really hope so.
(Silently praying that, someday, this book will be monthly again and ON TIME! I think this may be especially good considering that something important might be coming up for Wonder Woman in the future, something like, I dunno… A FREAKING MOVIE DIRECTED BY JOSS WHEDON!)
*rant banghead rolleyes stabself screamcurse*
Ahem.
Yes, DC. It might behoooooooooove you to build up this comic book as something worth investing time and money in. Not a source of frustration, as the date is pushed back again and the release goes bi-monthly and then not even bi-monthly but LATE YET AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!oneelevenoneone
Okay. I feel all better now.
Thank you so much for messing with my head tonight. A Halloween joke, right? Scaring the shit out of your owner? Because, you know, I just love it when I’m sitting in front of a Burgerville, chowing down a bunch of oh-so-fricking-good sweet potato french fries and staring at the poster of their pumpkin milkshake and thinking yeah, my hips can take that baby, ah yeah, give me some of that cream, and turn the key…and nothing happens, I kind of freak out.
When I’m in Vancouver, of all places. When I should be delivering a present to a friend’s newborn baby. With my tot and husband in the car — because it’s really easy for me to get around alone, but with two kids a three year old and a man? You’ve got to be joking.
When the only person I can call for a ride is my father-in-law. I’d have never heard the end of it. And he might have made me promise to tell him my psuedonym.
So, thank you even more for starting again — even though the fifteen minutes you didn’t do anything but flash a light at me when I turned the key almost made me cry. And, okay, I didn’t really mean it when I said I was going to $#@% your #%$ing starter all to #$@$ and crush your little alternator like a #%$#@!%$ melon. That was just a joke, I swear!
So, please start tomorrow. I promise I’ll take you to the nice mechanic, and he’ll give you a lovely lube job and check out your wiring and all that.
Sincerely,
Meljean
