[m4w] rowr

Accept your inner demons. You know, the ones that make one want to eviscerate unrequited lovers du jour, whomever they find more worthy than oneself, and then, well, once the killings begin, why stop, right?

Picture, if you will, Jon Cusack's character's fantasy scenes from either High Fidelity or America's Sweethearts. Remembering such movie moments will in turn get you laughing, and those vengeful tendencies return to the boundaries of video games, where they belong.

She suggests such feelings give you an opportunity to learn more about yourself. O, and how!

::

Anyway, my murderous mood from Monday has passed now. Thanks, in part, to the sheer joy of managing to get an extra free pass to The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra for hauntmeister. My second ticket was already given to Purple. So, Mad Props (perhaps like fancy candle holders as stemware?) to Ruth of Pandemonium for having an extra ticket! (She had, like, 6 tickets. It was a regular geek reunion last night. And it turned out that Barfight boy was there too, right in front of us. I didn't recognize him. He has the dubious honor of making me feel tactful and appropriate.)

If you like hauntmeister's parties, you will love this film.

Imagine Don't Ask, Don't Tell only freshly shot and fewer non-sequiturs. The actors are modern, completely aware of the hokiness, and impressive for not cracking up, because you know there was no budget for many retakes.

Sure, there was no obvious opening for someone like, say (entirely hypothetically, of course) australian_joe to offer to eat pancakes off my bum, but there was Animala. Rowr.

While I'm mentioning my booty, I really like the way it looks in cargo(?) pants, but I'm sick of all the strings attached, in leiu of an actual belt.
ha ha, your pants are untied!

::

Women's Wit is from Alice Roosevelt Longworth: I have a simple philosophy: Fill what's empty. Empty what's full. Scratch where it itches.
That would've fit better with yesterday. However, Close to Home has a large publisher devoting an entire department solely to making it impossible to refold their maps. Certainly could result in some anger management moments.

[m4w] rowr

Accept your inner demons. You know, the ones that make one want to eviscerate unrequited lovers du jour, whomever they find more worthy than oneself, and then, well, once the killings begin, why stop, right?

Picture, if you will, Jon Cusack's character's fantasy scenes from either High Fidelity or America's Sweethearts. Remembering such movie moments will in turn get you laughing, and those vengeful tendencies return to the boundaries of video games, where they belong.

She suggests such feelings give you an opportunity to learn more about yourself. O, and how!

::

Anyway, my murderous mood from Monday has passed now. Thanks, in part, to the sheer joy of managing to get an extra free pass to The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra for hauntmeister. My second ticket was already given to Purple. So, Mad Props (perhaps like fancy candle holders as stemware?) to Ruth of Pandemonium for having an extra ticket! (She had, like, 6 tickets. It was a regular geek reunion last night. And it turned out that Barfight boy was there too, right in front of us. I didn't recognize him. He has the dubious honor of making me feel tactful and appropriate.)

If you like hauntmeister's parties, you will love this film.

Imagine Don't Ask, Don't Tell only freshly shot and fewer non-sequiturs. The actors are modern, completely aware of the hokiness, and impressive for not cracking up, because you know there was no budget for many retakes.

Sure, there was no obvious opening for someone like, say (entirely hypothetically, of course) australian_joe to offer to eat pancakes off my bum, but there was Animala. Rowr.

While I'm mentioning my booty, I really like the way it looks in cargo(?) pants, but I'm sick of all the strings attached, in leiu of an actual belt.
ha ha, your pants are untied!

::

Women's Wit is from Alice Roosevelt Longworth: I have a simple philosophy: Fill what's empty. Empty what's full. Scratch where it itches.
That would've fit better with yesterday. However, Close to Home has a large publisher devoting an entire department solely to making it impossible to refold their maps. Certainly could result in some anger management moments.

revelations

Today I had what may be my first-ever actual (paid) job with InDesign. It was but a 1-line correction, but still.

Then I stayed late at work, missing the sunset entirely, because I finally motivated myself to work on The Postcard.

Granted, a lot of the delay is picking a topical, but not-completely offensive card. I figured this year would be a follow-up to the 3 of swords in 1998. But... well, we're sort of in a holding pattern as far as that's concerned.

I finally reached the awfukit stage of the creative process.

That desktop machine is just that much more powerful than my laptop. The futzing around with a 10-layer deep photoshop file that took 1.5 hours would have taken all night, an would've been mostly just watching the little clock. I've managed to leave work, go shopping (including giving into buying some more of that crunchy aged gouda), converse with assorted family members, IM procrastinating Adorable Jonathan until my trip to the gym was reduced to a soak, rather than an actual work out. At least, I am ahead with photoshop.

This was the first time in 3 weeks I'd even set foot in my gym. That's probably the root of some of my malaise. Even if just for the spa, I should go there more. Although working out probably couldn't hurt.

And, I should eat better, and cook up the various things in the cupboards that Real Simple says don't last much longer than a year. But, when it came down to it, port and crunchy aged gouda was what I wanted for dinner.

Now to rest up for tomorrow we dance with kinkos, and then the annual scurry to see whose addresses I haven't misplaced already. (Which luckily I took into consideration when making the 2003 winter holiday scrapbook.)

revelations

Today I had what may be my first-ever actual (paid) job with InDesign. It was but a 1-line correction, but still.

Then I stayed late at work, missing the sunset entirely, because I finally motivated myself to work on The Postcard.

Granted, a lot of the delay is picking a topical, but not-completely offensive card. I figured this year would be a follow-up to the 3 of swords in 1998. But... well, we're sort of in a holding pattern as far as that's concerned.

I finally reached the awfukit stage of the creative process.

That desktop machine is just that much more powerful than my laptop. The futzing around with a 10-layer deep photoshop file that took 1.5 hours would have taken all night, an would've been mostly just watching the little clock. I've managed to leave work, go shopping (including giving into buying some more of that crunchy aged gouda), converse with assorted family members, IM procrastinating Adorable Jonathan until my trip to the gym was reduced to a soak, rather than an actual work out. At least, I am ahead with photoshop.

This was the first time in 3 weeks I'd even set foot in my gym. That's probably the root of some of my malaise. Even if just for the spa, I should go there more. Although working out probably couldn't hurt.

And, I should eat better, and cook up the various things in the cupboards that Real Simple says don't last much longer than a year. But, when it came down to it, port and crunchy aged gouda was what I wanted for dinner.

Now to rest up for tomorrow we dance with kinkos, and then the annual scurry to see whose addresses I haven't misplaced already. (Which luckily I took into consideration when making the 2003 winter holiday scrapbook.)