Arrant Nonsense

I've written myself into a corner.

And I have no earthly idea how I'm going to get out of it.

Aaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh.

Not!Harry is tied to a table. He really has no way whatsoever of escaping. None. And the other characters have no way whatsoever of finding him. None.

Not only am I screwed, but so is not!Harry.

This right here? Is what happens when you don't outline.

*beats Antubis*

Also, my stupid period started yesterday. Which was just peachy, let me tell you.

SCREW YOU to my uterus. *strangles it with my bare hands*

Yeah, my last cycle started on the 25th.

*hates*

Writing? What is this "writing" thing of which you speak? The Muse, apparently in fear of my Mighty PMS, appears to have run away.

Maybe I'll move my business to the front room.

Maybe I should figure out what the hell I'm going to say in my "What you can learn about writing by writing fanfic" panel that I'm doing at MountainCon tomorrow.

And maybe I'll just watch Iron Man or KKBB and eat bonbons. I'm not even going to get into my disturbing behavior last night involving photoshopping screencaps so I can get a better mental visual of what not!Harry's back looks like after my first scene. Yeah, I should probably close that window before the Hubby gets home from work.

I...am not well.

So, I've got 16,700 words in the not!Iron Man thing. I've got about 11,500 words and counting in the not!KKBB/IM thing set in the same 'verse, and it's not even close to done yet.

And I'm womanfully refraining from using the n-word.

No, no, not that one. I wouldn't have to "womanfully refrain" from using that one, I would never ever use that one. You guys know me enough to know that.

This n-word: novel

I'm afraid if I say it too loudly, it'll run away. So, shhhh.

In other news, we had breakfast with a guy from Hillsdale College this morning. It was interesting and informative and I feel a whole lot smarter now. I'm very inclined to send Da Boy there when the time comes.

And in other other news, my body hates me and I hate it right back. So I guess we're even. A three-week cycle is not cool. *smacks uterus around* Also, I'm coming down with the cold Da Boy had last week. And I'm slightly sleep-deprived.

All this bodes ill for my characters. I have a bad tendency to take out feeling like this on them.

However, the scale is still my bitch. So there. 123.6 this morning. HAH.

Apparently I'm just getting old. Diagnosis so far is "pre-menopausal."

Yay.

So we can deal with the early periods a few different ways. I can go back on birth control. I can just live with it. Or I can have an ablation.

You know, there's been times, lately, when I've wanted to set my damn uterus on fire. The ablation doesn't sound like a bad option.

But for now, I'm just going to live with it.

In other news, I apparently waited too long to get my Doctor Who comic, because both branches of Night Flight were sold out. They didn't want to do a pre-pay on it (even though they're ordering more) because, apparently, they're having trouble getting them in and don't want me paying for something that may not show up. I thought about going to another store, but these guys are always so nice to me, and I don't want him ordering an extra and then not buy it...So I didn't check any other stores. I can't read them yet anyway, because I'm not done with S3 of Who.

And either the Dresden comic didn't ship this week, or they didn't get it. It's on order, and I did prepay for that one, so when it gets in they'll have one for me. I just realized, while typing this entry, that there's two variant covers for it...and I didn't specify. Oh well, they're both awesome.

And I did pick up my Angel: After the Fall #6. So at least I have that. And another Writers of the Future at the used bookstore, since I was, you know, in the area and it seemed silly not to stop in.

Whee.

However, this is a good thing. I've been wanting to rip my girly bits out with a rusty pitchfork for, oh, the last year or so. I've got mood swings like whoa, and my hair is not sticking to my head the way it ought. And I had fifteen periods last year.

So...yeah. Time to let the GYN poke me. *sigh* I hope it's something easy to fix.

( Rambling about the stimulus payment, word pronunciation, the wacky wacky weather, and my horrible girly bits. )
For something completely different, I've discovered an object lesson in how a professional writer should not act under any circumstances.

Exhibit A: u have an attitude. then what the hell do you publish lip service? I don't need you.

Exhibit B: I have been published all over this world I don't need you attitude so I deleted your ass and have a good trip.

Exhibit C: Assholes like you are only amusing. And no, I don't need to watch what I say to editors. I am an editor of four publications. I have also published my poems 706 times in the last 14 months, in over 200 publications. Guidelines are important, but not to the point of exlusion for their own sake; over quality of submissions, or, even a novice such as myself to flash fiction.

These are all from the same guy, to two different publications...after he got rejected for sending them something completely out of guideline. Apex Digest doesn't publish poetry, and AlienSkin doesn't publish stories under 500 words, unless they're in the "micro" category, in which case they must be exactly 150 words.

But apparently Mr. Michael Lee Johnson thinks that he is a Very Special Snowflake, and the guidelines don't apply to him! After all, he's been published at a vanity press Lulu! You'd think that these would be the actions of a spoiled 18-year-old kid.

You'd be wrong. According to his profile on Blogger, he's sixty.

Oi.

I'm about ready to rip my girly bits out with a rusty pitchfork and sell them to the highest bidder. Anyone want a uterus? I only used it once. ( Cut for girly TMI. )

Can I just rip my uterus out by its roots, right now?

Please?

Da Boy and I have such interesting conversations. We were in the car today, and he mentioned that he had the hiccups. I told him that when he was inside me, he used to get them all the time. (And boy, is that a weird feeling!) This led him to ask me if he "hurt me" when he came out. I told him yes, but the doctor helped me. "Did it take all day?"

"Most of it."

"Did it hurt you when I was in your throat?"

I blinked a bit. Where had THAT come from? "No, honey, you weren't in my throat." I guess he thought he came out...through my mouth? Which is logical, in a strange way. Let's face it: What comes out the other end?

Yeah, I think it may be time to break out the "this is where babies come from" book.
***
*sigh* The Utah Browncoats are having a Serenity screening tonight. Alas, I don't get to go. Not only am I broke (although I could probably scrape the money together if I REALLY needed to), but the Hubby won't get home until well after it starts tonight. It is teh suck. Ah well. At least he's got the 8th of July off (yay, Meetup!), and the WriterCon block off, next month.

We're talking about going to Orange County next week; he's got an all-day layover there, and there's two little zoos on the reciprocal list and a big-ass mall, plus the harbor. Sounds like a day trip...as long as Da Boy and I can get back.
***
I've got the crew talking about who knows and who doesn't know about vampires now. Whee.

Yack, yack, yack, is all they ever do...
***
My period started today. On time. Which is a good, and a bad. It's been ( cut for girly TMI )
***
No sign of either of the comics I won on eBay last week. Woe. Also no word on the airplane. I guess the radio they sent in for repair is still ... in for repair. The HubbyAirline is apparently going to start direct service to Des Moines next month, so that's shiny; maybe we'll all get to go instead of just him.
***
Yeah. Random.