Welcome to Hell

Just kidding. Can you believe it is December? I can't. As a matter of fact I declare it is NOT December. Because I have that kind of power. Yes, you should be afraid.

My NaNoWriMo deadline came and went yesterday. Just in case you are NEW, or have been ignoring me (more likely), NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month. Although it bills itself as a contest, it is actually just a challenge to write 50,000 words (about 150 pages) in a month. Quantity over quality. If that sounds like, "WTF? What's the point?" Think first draft. I am one of those, 'If I can't do it right, I am not going to do it' types. Which means I get stuck. This is shit. Throw it in the trash. Start over. Never accomplish anything. I need a push. I hoped this would push me. I didn't make it.

My brain turned into a giant fuzzball a couple of weeks ago and just got worse. I know my story. I know how it is supposed to go. I even wrote out the plot to keep me on track. But I Could Not Put Together A Coherent Sentence. One word after another, put the punctuation at the end. It was absolutely beyond me. I open up Word on the computer. Look at my Outline. Look at what I did last. Get ready to type. And NADA. I cannot pull out one thought to start with.


It is like the story is this giant mass of whiring (whirling too) energy and if I can figure out where to plug into it then it will start to flow out. But I Can't Find The Outlet To Plug Into. Yesterday I go desperate. I only had 22,000ish words turned in. So I scrounged through everything that I had discarded and added that in too.

29,233

Not 50,000. You do not know how tempted I was to add in garbage just to hit the 50,000. But I didn't. I do not cheat. Much.

Congratulation to the Drunken Housewife who won!

We will see if I can keep pushing through and work on it as my brain clears. I blame it on the new drug. I am hoping it's a side effect that will lessen with time. That is what I am telling myself anyway. Cuz I like that answer. It makes me feel better. Than the alternative, of my brain simply turning to mush.

Thanksgiving was fine. Real fine, not me fine. It was Thanksgiving. Not my favorite holiday. I could skip it altogether, but I like the two days off and hanging out with folks (as long as it is folks I like to hang with, which it was). But I am massively lazy and anti-social by nature, and Thanksgiving, by nature, is busy and social. I also do not like parades. My mother loves parades. Of the 30 seconds I glanced at, I will admit that the Macy's parade is improving. (I don't like balloons much either. I blame a sudden popping incident when I was younger.)

My loving family let me sleep in as long as I wanted, which was until 9 or 10. OMG! I know! Right?

I managed to avoid the last part of the parade by sitting at the kitchen table growling at people with my cup of coffee and my face buried in the Black Friday Ads. I made myself happy by laughing at the stupid schmucks who were making plans to get up at 3 am to hit the sales. Idiots. (Unless of course you are one of them, then whatever, to each his own. Just don't call me to come with you. Because I won't. I will be sleeping. Then going on-line to shop.)

I managed to spend the day reading magazines and catalogs and trying to figure out how to crochet a trivet. My mother and I have this unhealthy fascination with crafts. I have a psychological need to keep my hands busy. I stayed as far away from the kitchen as possible. I don't cook. Not well, therefore, not much. I like to bake desserts, and contributed to a pumpkin pie. (My mother did the crust. I did most of the filling until my dad decided I wasn't quite using the whisk right and took it away from me.)

I didn't do anything with the actual dinner food itself. I don't do dead things. I know, with my obsession with vampires and miscellaneous otherworldly things, that sounds odd. But one is fantasy, the other is reality. I don't do real dead things. Yes I eat meat. I just don't want to see it in its non-prepared state. And for god's sake keep the carcass out of my sight. I don't do carcass.

The actual dining was good. I like turkey, corn, mashed potatoes and rolls. If they are done right, I even like stuffing and gravy. However, think about the colors of the items I eat. Beige. My Thanksgiving dinner is all in shades of beige. Even I find that funny. I don't do green. I don't like sweet potatoes. Blech to the cranberries. I LOVE pumpkin pie. Too bad I can't put that on my dinner plate. It would be a lovely flash of color. Except the major dollop of whip cream might hide it. Oh well, my plate is full and I eat all of it. So there!

I hate cleaning. But at this point I have contributed nothing to the feast and everyone else has, so that leaves me to do dishes. It wasn't too bad, people brought me things and cleaned tables and counters. Someone got rid of the carcass. (Which was a very good thing, as I was not going into the kitchen until it was gone.)

After about an hour I was almost done and had the roasting pan left. It had... bits... left in it, with some kind of liquid. Thank god, mom said the whole thing could go down the drain and garbage disposal. Except it didn't. I dumped, but the bits were stuck. I screwed up my face as tight as I could, ground my teeth together, held my breath and pushed at it with a finger. It didn't move. I took another breath and held it, shoved my finger nail under the bits, looked away, and tried to scrap it off. Mom noticed my troubles and got me a scrubbie of some sort. Then she looked at my face and said, "You don't want to touch it do you?" She took pity on me and dealt with it. I love her!!! I did dry it and put it away.

I love college football. I love Husker football even more. My dad has satellite so I was actually able to watch the game. It was fun to read Laggin's periodic comments during the game and actually see what she was talking about. It was an exciting game and the Huskers won! HA! So there!





For some idiotic reason I suggested Christmas for the family at my house. Yes, the anti-social, lazy, bah-humbug me is hosting Christmas. What was I thinking?







It's December already. Maybe I should just go slit my wrists now. <-- That is a joke. I hate knives. And death.

Wow! What a way to end the post.

How about this?
Q. What's pink and fluffy?
A. Pink fluff
Q. What's blue and fluffy?
A. Pink fluff holding it's breath

No? Try this...

Hmmmm.... What about?


Jeez, you all are picky...


That's it. I got nothing else. Go find your own funny. (Then share it with me.)