amand_r: (doctor who/HARRIET JONES)
1. Guess what you can't wipe up with a Clorox wet nap? Baking Soda. Nope, if spills on the floor and you go to wipe it up, but you just end up pushing it around on the lino. Then when you give up and try to scoop as much of it as you can see, you realize you have just thinned it to an invisible coating of baking soda. And then for days when you step in that area in your socks, you get a squidgy feeling as you slide around in it. Then you realize that you put this in your body: A POWDER THAT CANNOT BE DISSOLVED AND PICKED UP BY THE LIQUID IN A CHLOROX WIPE. (Spider has since informed me that I can clean it with vinegar. Thanks, babe.)

2. Squeezing lemons when your hands are chapped to the point of cracking is not the smartest idea in the universe, lightbulb. However, if you put your fingers in baggies and put a rubber band at the base of each finger, you get to race the clock to see if the pain from cracked skin or the pain from listing feeling in the fingers will make you stop first.

The answer is NEITHER BECAUSE I AM THAT BADASS.

3. Me: Viv, are you done pooping?
Her: No. I got to chillax.
Me: What?
Her: Just chillax, mama.

4. I drove behind a Bronco II that had this on a paper taped to the back windshield: I WILLNOT SPEED JUST TO MAKE YOU HAPPY. I SLOW DOWN FOR TAILGATERS.

5. I have many thoughts on Rhianna's S&M. Some of them are not good. Most of them are nonchalant, which as we all know, is the opposite of chalant. Not to be confused with chalet, or Swiss Chalet, which makes me think of Swiss steak, which makes me want steak. Or those onions that come on top of steak sometimes. When you make a bowl of sautéed onions and mushrooms to put on steak and meats, that's called the kitty. I eat the kitty on fried sweetbreads. Now I want to watch Josie and the Pussycats. Dujour means swiss steak!

6. I DID A THING. )
amand_r: (waaaaaaaa)
Okay. So.

I opened a document to start a new story (in which vampires are normal and humans are the myth. I'm working on it.), and I couldn't face the whiteness. So I opened episode 8 and corrected the grammar there, and then. Then. I looked down.

There, from under the L key—dust. I saw that.

So after about twenty minutes of tweezing clumps of cat hair and dust and detritus from my keyboard, I stopped to consider that I might have a small problem.

Writer's block.

It's not like I haven't had it before, the erectile dysfunction of the literary world (can you tell how desperate I was to make that joke?), but this comes at a time when I am teeming with ideas. I have about a dozen scenes in the season 4 that I'd love to put down. I have about thirty short stories in various stages of development. I have four stories that I should edit and resubmit.

I'm going to have to drop out of the tw genfic fest. I know it's not going to be done. It's not even started. It's planned. I could start it and get myself rolling, but I can think of so many other things that are more important, like the stories for money. I can't make myself work on fanfic because I think I have to get more stories done so I can sell them.

I have to relax.

Here's how bad it is: I get Poets and Writer's Magazine, and I use the back to mine for submissions, and I haven't opened the last 2 (it's every other month, so that should tell you something) because the Jan/Feb issue is titled 'The Inspiration Issue'. Look at that cover and tell me that's not intimidating. Or it could just be me.

It's not a new thing that I don't like to listen to other people talk about their writing. And I don't mean in a "this is my plot" way. That's okay. I don't like to listen to meta about writing. I don't care about why someone writes, or how they do it, or what drives them. Because it makes me think about what drives me, and I don't care about that either. Everyone seems more together than me. Everyone seems to think this is…important enough to talk about (I think I'm doing that now). All I know is that the more I think about my process, the worse my fic is received, the less it's liked, so I don't LIKE to think about it. So, there.

Also: everyone I know is writing a book. One of them sold their book. Others are submitting theirs. I don't even have a short story to send anywhere. Every time I try to sit down and edit, I think, "God, what's the point, editing isn't going to make it better." /whine (If you are one of those people reading this, I sincerely wish you nothing but the best, really, I do.)

Anyway, I am blocked. I even have an idea for a two-column poem about a man licking the print advert for gum in the subway car. See? Ideas. Still. Who's going to buy/print that shit? My gum poem? Fuck that shit.

Part of it is this doubt that I know where to submit my stuff. I don't know. It's not like the shit I read in the samples, and I can't find a place that has stuff like mine. And that bothers me, or something. Or maybe I think it's interesting. I dunno. I just have to find the place.

I feel better just writing all this.

Fuck all that. Okay. Coconut Man, Moonheads, and P.



Next on Amanda blogs: I have discovered how to exercise, and nyah nyah nyah, you bastards. Also, Cashmere Mafia was the worst trainwreck of a show I have watched since The L Word, but I couldn't stop watching.
amand_r: (west wing/mrs landingham)
1. HAAAHAHAAHAHAH. "NAME THE GUN PART".



2. Okay. Uhm. Yeah. I got nothing. Oh wait! PHOTODUMP!

Stout and Cheddar Rarebit with Fried Eggs. )

3. ME: I should just stop you right now before you proceed to the bank with a business plan where you have liberally sprinkled the word “awesome.”
FLAPJACKS: Why don’t banks like things that are awesome?
ME: They just don’t.


Seriously, Flapjacks is Tianyu and Chris is me.

4. I just megauploaded a .rar file of GBS songs. If you want it shoot me an email. It's all shit from The Hard and the Easy and earlier.

5. BOM CHIKA WOW WOW.

eta: OMG ADOPTED SQUIRREL LEARNS TO PURR. (h/t [livejournal.com profile] emquilxy)
amand_r: (YOUR MOM)
I HAD SEX WITH GARETH DAVID LLOYD ON A SINK AT DRAGON*CON AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY MANICURE:



Yes, this sums up my whole D*C experience nicely. )

That was my big fat D*C exp. Seriously, few panels, lots of booze, tonnes of food, great people, EXCELLENT CONVERSATIONS, and a renewed sense of writing. I WILL WRITE THAT FPREG. IT WILL BE AWESOME.

OH AND I THINK I MIGHT HAVE A SEASON TO AIR THIS FALL.

Oh, and Jack and Ianto's post-it D*C adventure )

BUT FOR NOW, my dad is out of surgery, and I'm waiting to hear how he is, and I have plans to make biscotti with cabernet cocoa powder, and possibly some cupcakes.

I dreamt about biscotti last night.

I made a list of shit to do divided by pages: on page per category, house, work, online, general, errands, etc. IT'S NINE PAGES LONG.

See ya'll on the flip side.

EDIT: I bought their Netherworld Blend and the Reanimator Blend. The latter is great. Haven't tasted the firmer. Go there and browse the teas and coffees.
amand_r: (christmas/mc chris evergreen)
1. Whoa, what's with the haterade, people over on [livejournal.com profile] torch_wood? Stop being asshats.

2. MEEEEEEEEEEEME. A WRITING MEME. LOTS OF BULLSHIT. )

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