1. Yeah, it's numbers again. Tough.
2. I don't have any good pictures to Photoshop for you, because my mom has the digital camera (which is really hers, anyway) to take pictures of her cactus, which only blooms once every couple of years.
3. I haven't Shredded since I started writing. Not once.
4. And yet I haven't gained weight. Holding steady around 146.
5. I want to eat nothing but juicy, Angus cheeseburgers with lots of ketchup.
6. I actually purchased Barbie Swan Lake for my daughter. I am mortified with myself. But, to be honest, it's a much better deal than the Disney movies, which are $19.99 for their few, brief days on furlough from the razor-wired Disney Vault. Swan Lake was $5, lasts 83 minutes, and features actual, professionally choreographed ballet and music by Tchaikovsky. And, seriously, isn't one anorexic, weak-minded princess/fairy/ballerina interchangeable with the next?
7. I also haven't really cleaned house very much since I started writing. I cleaned for an hour to prepare for a friend's visit, and I found those round little balls of spider eggs living on one of my paintings. The nerve of some arachnids!
8. I have very conflicted feelings about the final season of Battlestar Gallactica. But don't worry, Val-- I'm not going to spoil anything here. I'm just... conflicted.
9. I am scared of having a three-year-old, because as far as I can tell, they're kinda douchebags. Self-important, loud, greedy, emotionally sensitive, unreasonable, high-energy, whiny, messy little drama queens who refuse to clean up after themselves. I now know why humanity invented preschool.
10. I need to write 10,000 more words, but I just feel ready to birth the baby and start sending it out. It's chick lit/fantasy/humor.
Therefore, if you read my blog and know any literary agents, editors, or publishers personally, please HOOK ME UP!
I will send you art or cupcakes. From what I've heard, nothing gets read without some sort of introduction or name-dropping, and I currently have no names to drop.
11. I need sleep. Is that a confession? No. A complaint, maybe, or a statement of the obvious.
12. Happy Birthday, Jimmy Franconi. I only wish I had 200 miniature plastic pigs to leave around your house after I broke in through the kitchen window. Although your lovely wife and sissy dog probably wouldn't like that so much.
Back to a land of princesses, teething, and typing.