superbadgirl: (Default)
I loathe yard work. One should see some dent if one puts in three hours, shouldn't one? Ughhhhhhhhhhh. And I get to mow the lawn tomorrow.

Scratch the houseboy, I need to win the lottery.
superbadgirl: (Default)
I woke up to blue skies and beautiful clouds. Great, I thought, completely forgetting where I live for a moment, I will have a lovely walk downtown today.

And by the time I finished my coffee, braided my hair and dressed, the weather had turned to torrential downpour with nary an end in sight.
superbadgirl: (Default)
I'd ask someone to slap me upside the head the next time a fic exchange rolls around, but I'm apparently a sucker. I'll probably do it again. A full week after the deadline and yep, I am one of two who have not received a gift. Waaaah. Lump of coal for me!


Speaking of lumps of coal, I did put up a link on my LJ for a site called Moolala. I just bought a mystery box rumored to have $400 worth of things in it for $29. A friend said she got a printer and a few other sellable things so I figured, eh, why not? At any rate, there seems to be some pretty good deals on there. If I had more friends, I might even make a little money. Read: if you have friends and know how to social network (which I could figure out, but since it would networking...I probably never will), you could figure out a way to make disposable income there.


Lastly: Bill had made good on his promise, and what had started out as a quiet evening on the coach, with a beer in hand had turned into the two of them, half naked on the coach, hands all over each other and Ted protesting about the mark Bill was going to leave on his collar bone.*

I do hope they got consent from the coach before they started making out on top of him/her.

*Identity of the characters changed to protect their dignity.
superbadgirl: (Default)
I haven't been sick for years. The last time I had a head cold, it was over the holidays and I got laryngitis so bad everyone had a grand old time making fun of me. I think that was five years ago.

On Friday, Coworker X showed up to work sick. She wasn't the first - last week Coworker Y did the same. I didn't worry so much about it, since I rarely actually catch anything. Hah! I think I jinxed myself.

I hate being sick. I'm sitting here achy and cold, with a sore throat and ugh. I yelled at coworkers for coming to work ill, but I cannot afford the time off this week - training out of town on Wednesday, which essentially means this week is two days short (travel time) already and next week starts with a holiday. So now I'm going to do the same thing as them, unless I show up and I'm told to go home.

Ugh. *goes back to bed*
superbadgirl: (Default)
I've had this fic open for a solid week. I have a deadline on this fic and yet, I cannot seem to get anything going beyond the opening scene. It's like I've slammed face first into an invisible wall. I've tried going around, but it never ends. I've tried scaling it, but lack the proverbial mental muscle.

Instead, I've found myself pondering those sad little stories that I adore but didn't perform well and make me wonder if it's just because I suck, sucky, suck. This is a vicious cycle, because I know in my heart of hearts I don't suck, per se, but have always been a bit forgettable. And that's okay, but I am so frustrated with myself for getting stuck like this so often because of something so stupid.

[Edited out the stories I want to hold above my head and demand people read... ;)]

I'm just feeling wanky, I guess. Am I the only one this ever happens to? The nagging feeling like it wouldn't matter if you never wrote again, which leads to a complete lack of concentration or will to write?

I thought about making this a whole self-absorbed meme, but I lack the skills for that. Still, if you have a story (any fandom) you think others should have loved more and want to kvetch - feel free to comment here, or post a similar Poor Me Meme to your own journal.

*cue the crickets, because I always get crickets for posts like this*


superbadgirl: (Default)

September 2017

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