I’m bored. It’s a bad thing when I’m at loose ends because trouble soon follows. I start doing weird and stupid things, like dyeing my hair orange or joining a convent. At the same time!

I guess I could go mop the kitchen. It needs it. Yeah, I’m still here. No, I didn’t just hop up and industriously go mop. Ha. You funny.

But that’s what it took. Two days, just to call in a prescription. Their system doesn’t allow you to leave a message. You either talk to someone or it says “Call back” and hangs up. GAH!

But, dearest coworker, I don’t want to hear your goddamn selection of ringtones.

It appears freezing the hard drive could work, but it was a laptop hard drive and I don’t have any way to read it. Bother.

So, you’ve all been saved the pain of me posting excerpts. This is your only lucky break for the week. Enjoy.

But I feel so lazy. I finished noodling around with Lulu, have no course work to do, and I don’t feel like doing laundry. I guess I could go vacuum something with the working-for-the-moment vacuum. Blah.

Maybe I’ll hold my breath until someone volunteers to entertain me.

A few weeks back when I started talking about Lulu, I thought the prospect looked daunting as hell. It sounded like gibberish.

But now, it’s looking pretty easy. I have my first mock-up nearly done.

I had originally had a goal of Christmas. Er, it’s looking more like Independence Day.

My collection is at 78 poems and holding steady.

I’ve decided on the title “pseudophakia,” though I was tempted to call it something like “A short history of stupidity” or “This didn’t really happen like this, Mom.”

Pseudophakia is harder to spell, but shorter to type, so that’s my choice.

As some of you know, I wrote a novel a few years back and the hard drive in my computer crashed, irrevocably. To top it off, the floppies I had backed up to? Also destroyed. It was a Message.

I haven’t really thought about it in a couple of years, until I saw this post on pffa. A hard drivecicle. Getcher chocolate covered frozen hard drives right cheer!

Anyway, I’m going to try it. It’s probably better I don’t since I’m sure the novel is irredeemable. But if it’s on there you can read it and laugh. Or weep. Whatever floats yon boat.

Ah, life as a packrat. I was digging through some old papers and found a rather large stack of short stories from a class I took in 1993. Everyone had to hand around copies of their work so we could read and critique them. The class didn’t help me. I’m not much of a fan of short stories and, if I recall correctly, mine sucked. I have to try to recall instead of reading them because I have copies of everyone else’s work–not mine.

What are the chances any of these people would like their stories back?

Well, if you were at Notre Dame in the summer of ’93 and took a short fiction class taught by William O’Rourke, let me know!

So Howard has managed to attract a revenge critter on Gazebo. The revenge critter’s username? Ilovegbush.

Yeah, that probably speaks for itself, doesn’t it?