There are so many things I wish to talk about, but, because my name is attached to all of this, I cannot. It's fair to say that while not much is visibly going on in my life, there are a tremendous amount of possibilities growing and building.
As per usual, none of it is good, but all of it is irresistible and fabulous.
I miss Seth Green. He was just my type, even though he was short.
I wish I had Slayer Sense. (P.S. Buffy fans, that url is available.)
In a week I will be 29 years old. November 1st, All Saint's Day. Do you believe I am a saint? Sometimes I'm not so sure myself. All I know is, I am definitely not a devil. Or, the devil, anyway. Perhaps maybe a minion. Feel free to send me a present or birthday greetings.
Minions are harmless.
Strange writing going on right now. I don't know what my deal is, but I know that it's a good thing. It comes out in spills. I am an oil spill of words. I infest. I ingest. I decay.
Will told me tonight that I'm infamous amongst various editors for my double space after periods. Apparently no one does that anymore. I'm old school in that way, though. I took a typing class in 1985, and the teacher said I should double space after periods. I've been double-spacing after periods for fifteen years, and I'm not stopping now, unless someone pays me to do it.
I haven't heard any offers yet.
I bought black leather pants on Saturday. I cannot afford them, but I needed them. My ass looks amazing in them: plush, and large, and heavenly. In those pants, my ass is prime for a big, fat spank. My ass needed to look that good.
I don't make the rules, I merely enforce them.