NEWS FROM THE TRENCHES
DEAR EVERYBODY:
BEING AN ADULT AND WORKING FULL TIME MAKES YOU EXHAUSTED AND THEREFORE BORING.
love,
EXHAUSTED ME
Like, you didn't even know I had a full time job now, right? Because I haven't updated. Because job+dog+boyfriend+consistent work out schedule+cleaning is fucking KILLER, okay. It's this one, by the way. I work for a non profit, which is +5 hipster points at parties.
FOR BONUS "BEING AN ADULT SUCKS" points, I've also worked, like...three Saturdays in a row? Four? In addition to the full work week? Because there was a tropical storm (OH NO, NOT ONE OF THOSE) and flooding blah blah except NOT REALLY. So I've been manning a table at various Disaster Recovery sites, except, again, not really because no disaster struck people ever show up. So it's lots of driving an hour or more out into the boonies to sit at a table under either a heat trapping tarp or in a metal shed (OR A CATTLESHED) and just waiting for death for the day to be over.
On the plus side, I now have a t shirt that says DISASTER RECOVERY TEAM in huge letters on the back, and it makes me feel like I'm out killing zombies or some shit. On the front it says DRT. Which I also like, by the way.
I have read a lot of Steven King and a lot of Mexican folklore. I have discovered that the end of The Running Man still deeply distresses me. I DON'T EVEN WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. BEN RICHARDS, WHY MUST YOU BREAK MY HEART. Like, I get it, okay? The ending is a grim triumph and artistically perfect for the story, okay, okay. But WAH.
uh uh uh, what else
Oh, I will have an update about Ernie soon because he is currently on a vet mandated two weeks of doggie ibuprofen and bed rest. I was convinced that he'd torn his ACL because he was limping around and refusing to put any weight on his back right leg.
SPOILER ALERT: he has a swollen (not broken, not fractured) ankle. He is going to be fine. Two days of bed rest and he is already chomping at the bit and wanting to wrestle and bunny hopping swiftly on three legs and generally trying to do profoundly stupid standard shit, like be bipedal when he says hello. STOP IT, DOG. RELAX.
post post script: the only thing I have written is more of that terribad idfic with the kidnapping and the Stockholm and the...you know, this thing right here. So look forward to that, I guess? Luca is still blindfolded and cuffed. I have no idea what the current word count is besides "significant," and my male romantic lead hasn't even SEEN the space he's trapped in yet. I don't know. Kane has shoved his fingers in Luca's mouth, though, so there's that.
post post post script: if you're still hanging around here because of that Hunger Games fic with the shackles and the safeword that keeps on getting ao3 kudos, great! Hi! Y'all are lovely and Peeta going down on Katniss is the only thing I've outlined in the past month.
Like jellies, BUT BETTER. Super comfortable, soft, washable, and translucent blue. SO COOL, you guys.
PPPPS: BATMAN IN A WEEK OH MY GOD BAAAAATS.
So, dudes! How YOU doin'? Give me the cliff notes about your lives, stat.
BEING AN ADULT AND WORKING FULL TIME MAKES YOU EXHAUSTED AND THEREFORE BORING.
love,
EXHAUSTED ME
Like, you didn't even know I had a full time job now, right? Because I haven't updated. Because job+dog+boyfriend+consistent work out schedule+cleaning is fucking KILLER, okay. It's this one, by the way. I work for a non profit, which is +5 hipster points at parties.
FOR BONUS "BEING AN ADULT SUCKS" points, I've also worked, like...three Saturdays in a row? Four? In addition to the full work week? Because there was a tropical storm (OH NO, NOT ONE OF THOSE) and flooding blah blah except NOT REALLY. So I've been manning a table at various Disaster Recovery sites, except, again, not really because no disaster struck people ever show up. So it's lots of driving an hour or more out into the boonies to sit at a table under either a heat trapping tarp or in a metal shed (OR A CATTLESHED) and just waiting for death for the day to be over.
On the plus side, I now have a t shirt that says DISASTER RECOVERY TEAM in huge letters on the back, and it makes me feel like I'm out killing zombies or some shit. On the front it says DRT. Which I also like, by the way.
I have read a lot of Steven King and a lot of Mexican folklore. I have discovered that the end of The Running Man still deeply distresses me. I DON'T EVEN WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. BEN RICHARDS, WHY MUST YOU BREAK MY HEART. Like, I get it, okay? The ending is a grim triumph and artistically perfect for the story, okay, okay. But WAH.
uh uh uh, what else
Oh, I will have an update about Ernie soon because he is currently on a vet mandated two weeks of doggie ibuprofen and bed rest. I was convinced that he'd torn his ACL because he was limping around and refusing to put any weight on his back right leg.
SPOILER ALERT: he has a swollen (not broken, not fractured) ankle. He is going to be fine. Two days of bed rest and he is already chomping at the bit and wanting to wrestle and bunny hopping swiftly on three legs and generally trying to do profoundly stupid standard shit, like be bipedal when he says hello. STOP IT, DOG. RELAX.
post post script: the only thing I have written is more of that terribad idfic with the kidnapping and the Stockholm and the...you know, this thing right here. So look forward to that, I guess? Luca is still blindfolded and cuffed. I have no idea what the current word count is besides "significant," and my male romantic lead hasn't even SEEN the space he's trapped in yet. I don't know. Kane has shoved his fingers in Luca's mouth, though, so there's that.
post post post script: if you're still hanging around here because of that Hunger Games fic with the shackles and the safeword that keeps on getting ao3 kudos, great! Hi! Y'all are lovely and Peeta going down on Katniss is the only thing I've outlined in the past month.
Like jellies, BUT BETTER. Super comfortable, soft, washable, and translucent blue. SO COOL, you guys.
PPPPS: BATMAN IN A WEEK OH MY GOD BAAAAATS.
So, dudes! How YOU doin'? Give me the cliff notes about your lives, stat.