but i got this old car and she's pretty tough to beat
You guys, last night I posted a story that contained the line "Holy crap, Dean, that guy is made of lint."
I feel like I have reached the pinnacle of my writing career, and nothing else will ever measure up. though I am sad I was unable to work in a "speed of lint" joke. But one Edlund reference per story is enough, I guess.
All of which is to say that if you've ever wondered why you put two socks into the laundry and only get one back, the Winchesters are on the case:
One Is the Loneliest Number
Supernatural; Sam and Dean; pg; 1,285 words
Sam and Dean investigate the mystery of the missing socks.
It makes me laugh, anyway. Thanks to the people who've commented. I really appreciate it.
***
It's snowing again, but the temperature is in the high 20s. This is a marked improvement over yesterday. We're supposed to get more snow/rain/stupid wintry mix tomorrow night, which means Thursday morning's commute is going to be gross.
Dear scientists,
Where is my transporter, so I don't have to deal with slushy corners and icy streets and crowded subways and subzero temperatures?
no love,
me
***
Ugh. I have a work thing I must get finished, and I don't wanna. I spent yesterday and this morning soothing ruffled board members and that really makes me tired. It's 10:40 in the morning and I am already ready to go back to bed. Yesterday I was talking with a co-worker about my desire to stay in bed and watch dvds forever and about how working for the next 30 years was a really unappetizing prospect and musing about getting a sunlamp or something to make sleeping (and getting up) easier, and she was like, "Oh, honey, no lamp is going to help with that." True. So sad, but true.
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/276446.html.
people have commented there.
I feel like I have reached the pinnacle of my writing career, and nothing else will ever measure up. though I am sad I was unable to work in a "speed of lint" joke. But one Edlund reference per story is enough, I guess.
All of which is to say that if you've ever wondered why you put two socks into the laundry and only get one back, the Winchesters are on the case:
One Is the Loneliest Number
Supernatural; Sam and Dean; pg; 1,285 words
Sam and Dean investigate the mystery of the missing socks.
It makes me laugh, anyway. Thanks to the people who've commented. I really appreciate it.
***
It's snowing again, but the temperature is in the high 20s. This is a marked improvement over yesterday. We're supposed to get more snow/rain/stupid wintry mix tomorrow night, which means Thursday morning's commute is going to be gross.
Dear scientists,
Where is my transporter, so I don't have to deal with slushy corners and icy streets and crowded subways and subzero temperatures?
no love,
me
***
Ugh. I have a work thing I must get finished, and I don't wanna. I spent yesterday and this morning soothing ruffled board members and that really makes me tired. It's 10:40 in the morning and I am already ready to go back to bed. Yesterday I was talking with a co-worker about my desire to stay in bed and watch dvds forever and about how working for the next 30 years was a really unappetizing prospect and musing about getting a sunlamp or something to make sleeping (and getting up) easier, and she was like, "Oh, honey, no lamp is going to help with that." True. So sad, but true.
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/276446.html.
people have commented there.