I just had the weirdest dream.

Maybe I should go easy on the sauce from now on.

Maybe.

(( Rassploded!))

"Hi, this is Dead Girl. I'm not in this plane of existence right now, but if you want to leave a message, just wait for the sound of the flat-line. If you're calling by medium or spiritualist, it's one knock for yes, two for yes. If you're operating a Ouija Board, put down your parent's board games, go outside and get some fresh air. Otherwise ( Read more... )

* Assemble a team of dead superheroes.
* Descend into hell.
* Cancel milk.

It's not much, but it'll do for now.

Have you ever learned something about a friend that surprised you, despite what you knew about them?

He's a real player, isn't he, folks?

Stupid bomb.

Nice gin and tonic, though.

Stupid tanks.

( Read more... )

I will not angst. Others have it a lot worse. In comparison, I have had a fabulous time.

I will not exposit. Everyone does not need to know every little detail of my existence.

I will not angst. This bears repeating.

I will not endlessly reminisce. The past is the past.

Serious about the angsting.

God, I need a drink.

It was a good run. The fame, the wealth, the adulation, my face on the magazine, an expensive crypt in Hollywood.

I didn't mind retiring and spending the evenings just decomposing was probably as good as it was gonna get.

But now I hear I'm due a comeback. A solo billing, no less.

So is this a new a start or just my final swansong?