June 5th, 2008

Come up and see me, make me smile.

Or better yet...

Tell me something good. Tell me that you love me.


Cause really, things are still fairly rubbish here.

I gave in to reality and called in my ATM as missing, which means 5-10 days before the new one comes in and then I need to redo ALL the stuff that's on Automatic Payment---Paypal, LJ, the Gym.

Of course now it will turn up, no doubt in an Opium Den, having a three way with my Ipod and the missing bits of my brain.

I also joined the world of people who don't keep every single thing on their laptop. Series 2 of TW is now on the external hard drive along with some other goodies, including West Hollywood. This gave me enough room to actually run the defrag, which meant I could then get the rest of Ashes to Ashes and John Barrowman's recent appearance on Jonathan Ross.

The Mark Wahlberg interview on that was seriously schizophrenic. It's like he can't decide whether to embrace the Marky Mark stuff or is completely humiliated by having ever done it. Also, I'm sure his religious convictions are sincere, but it's pretty bizarre to go from talking about the Boogie Nights prosthetic to giving all the glory to God for success in your life. OK, dude. Whatever.

John of course was his awesome self, being smarmy AND charming, giving me oodles of RPS fodder.


Then I decided to get totally obsessed with finding the soft-ware to get YouTube vids saved and converted to Itunes so I can put them on my new Nano Ipod. (And of course the old one, should it ever turn up.) It was hit or miss and some programs (luckily free) didn't work.

Quivic seems to be the way to go. The demo works, although the large word DEMO over the product would seem to be an effective way to make me actually buy the damn thing.


NOVEL 2008 Update-
Chapter 2 is still plodding on. Basically there's SEX and then a whole lot of exposition going on. Mostly because if I don't get the info out in dialogue in this chapter, there's no plausible way to do it later. And she really, really wants to convince the guy she's just fucked that her antagonist is an evil wench.

Luckily, the lovely beta_goddess will be available with her Ginsu Knives to slice and dice whatever is necessary.


Stray thought-
We started watching Fortysomething last Sunday. It's kind of weird to see Brit-com Hugh, after House. Jeeves is one thing, because it's so period and he so completely inhabits the idiocy of Bertie. But as a more contemporary "regular" guy, who's not an idiot, but is sort of
in thrall to the kind of propriety that House regularly stomps on or otherwise abuses, it's kind of a disconnect. For me anyway.

I can't handle nitrous the way I used to.

I was unwell at the dentist's office. (British usage.) This was really terrifying because it happened while I was on my back and too out of it to do anything. I was scared, sick, and embarrassed and then had to go through my cleaning with less nitrous than I'm used to. Not fun. As you may remember from the Maui snorkling adventure, I really, really hate throwing up. Not that anyone likes it, but one reason I never made it as a bulimic, is that I couldn't (ahem) stomach the puking.

About a year after Karen Carpenter died, there was an article in People about her using Serum of Ipecac and I thought that sounded like a good idea. I WAS YOUNG AND STUPID AND LIVING IN SLAVERY TO MY BODY IMAGE ISSUES!!!! Tried it. Once. NEVER EVER AGAIN

I wish I could blame the nausea on the screen over the chair showing Ratatouille, but no such luck. Maybe I shouldn't have been inhaling the nitrous quite so deeply, especially after doing my Dennis Hopper in Blue Velvet imitation. "Mommy, mommy."

Anyway, I'm ok, and I got through it, but it just goes to show, that this week really sucks.

I took the 22 Fillmore back to Church & Market and went to a thrift store called Out of the Closet to get a shirt that didn't smell like puke. Then I went to the Mint, where I ran into my friend Bob. We spent about three hours doing obscure songs, trading snark, and generally having fun. I won't bother posting the whole song list, but it was the most relaxed I've felt in days.

At about 715-ish I left and went to Pak-Wan to get some Indian food for dinner. (My tummy's ok, I promise.) Outside on 16th Street, I overheard the following piece of information, which I pass on to you to use as you see fit:

"It's ok to write on somebody if they've passed out, but not if they've fallen asleep."