Sooo… What cha doin'?

Right now? Just cleaning. Don’t say it. Don’t even say it. It’s not weird that I’m cleaning at 1am. This is a perfectly reasonable time of day. Truth, it’s tons cooler now than it was at about 1pm, when I was TRYING to clean and failing miserably due to the sweat dripping down my temples.

Argh, I hate sweat. I hate the feel of it. Some people are all like, YES! Sweat! It means you’re losing weight, or some other such nonsense. Puh-lease. Sweat just means you’re hot. Some people (myself included) are more prone to it, with limited physical activity. Imagine when I’m actually exerting myself!

There was this commercial a while ago on TV about a man’s deodorant. I can’t for the life of me remember the brand. Hmm… let me see something. Nope. Sorry. Youtube doesn’t have it. Unless I’m typing in the wrong search words, but it doesn’t seem to be there. Anyway, in the commercial there’s this beautiful, sexy woman dancing. Beads of sweat surround her perfect Britney Spears-esque abs, as she bumps and grinds her hips to the music. It said something along the lines of: She’s sexy when she sweats. You’re not. And they show this gross, really dorky guy drenched in sweat. Now, don’t get me wrong, I like dorky guys. Just not drenched in sweat. Mainly cause, well I hate sweat. Do we understand where I’m going with this? I don’t care how sexy you are. Sweat = hot. Well, technically it does. Literally. But not in the sexy way they’re implying.

Oh my goodness, I am babbling. I think I’m tired. I haven’t slept well past few days.

You know what I noticed today? I have half of the secondhalf of my WIP written already! Which means that my wordcount is really more along the lines of 75k than 50!!! OMG!!! It needs serious editing, and with that, perhaps some cutting, but even with that, I believe I’ll get a good 15k out of it, which mens I’d still have about 65k. 😉 That’s freaking awesome.

I’m so tired. Did I mention that already? I had a long day but it went so fast. I cleaned up earlier. Went to my inlaws pool because it was deliriously hot (hence the sweat rant), then had to head up a meeting regarding the Cancer Benefit Fashion Show. My alter ego, Blu, was totally professional and in control. I love playing her. Creative, strong, eccentric. She’s a little bit of me with lots of attitude and fun.

It was finally about a quarter to ten when I realized I hadn’t eaten and was starved. We ended up at Olive Garden, the ONLY place open other than Friendlys and Fridays and such. What’s with so many places closing so early on a Wednesday nite? I mean, I know it’s not a weekend and business might be a little slow, but huh? The steakhouse was closed by 9! That’s ridiculous!

Ok, done ranting and raving. This post is just a bunch of nonsense. Holy mackrel. Chalk it up to exhaustion people. Long days and little sleep are not good. They make you sound insane. Lets do our DWQ, shall we?

Although most of us are writers, to be GOOD writers, we must also be readers. Hence, today’s quote.

This nice and subtle happiness of reading, this joy not chilled by age, this polite and unpunished vice, this selfish, serene life-long intoxication. ~Logan Pearsall Smith

When it comes to reading, my motto is, try everything once. If you don’t like it, you don’t like it. But how will you know if you’ve missed a true gem unless you give it a try? I used to walk the bookstore and search out covers. Not authors I knew. Not genres I frequent. Covers that drew my attention. Bylines that made me laugh. Etc. I’ve found some really surprising little treasures that way.

2 responses to “Sooo… What cha doin'?

  1. Olive Garden. Yummy. My sister-in-law coming to visit in 3 weeks and we always go.

    Cleaning at 1 am. I think the only time I’ve ever done that is when I was moving out and running late! Cleaning the carpets at 1 a.m.

  2. Cleaning at 1 am. Ugh, yeah, I hate to admit it, but I do that too. Not because I like it, mind. But because it’s easier to run a mop over the floor after Mini has gone to bed. I’ve sort of gotten into the habit of it now.

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