Print Story Why does he have to do that thing with the thing again?
By nightflameblue (Fri Mar 13, 2009 at 09:38:54 AM EST) (all tags)
I'm sick. When I get sick, I get restless. When I get restless, I get creative. Unfortunately, I also get unfocused. So my creativity is coming out in ideas being interrupted by ideas, interrupted by other ideas, and so on.

So, to bring the suck full circle, let's diarize about it.

Of COURSE I'd get a major throat problem one day after getting a usable microphone for the first time in forever. Thanks life. Appreciated!

So, apparently I was not believed the night I started getting sick. Got to make supper for Mrs. NFB and me that night, do the dishes, take care of all the pet chores, and get laundry. All while she sat and pet one of the cats. So that was pretty cool. Bleh.

She felt bad about it last night when she realized I actually AM sick, and sent me to bed while she took care of everything. Because apparently I'm a big faker most of the time. Bleh.

The niece, five years old, has a new obsession - trying to get people's shirts off. Now, this is not as funny as you may think. Go ahead, you try fighting off a determined five year old for about ten minutes. I finally decided I'd had enough, deposited her back with her mother, who said, "yeah, that's her new thing. Nothing we can do about it." Um, no, you can do something about it. That's why you're the mommy, see. Love the whole modern pacifist parenting technique. Keep saying there's nothing you can do about it when she walks up to strange men and starts taking off their pants. Bleh.

I've got this whole fever-dream like state going on right now where everything seems a little surreal and the ideas are flyin' like. . .well, things that fly. Unfortunately, most of those ideas are interrupted by other ideas before I can do anything with them. So I'm stuck watching them fly by and not much else. Focus is lost on me at the moment. Bleh.

I hear they're remaking the Karate Kid with Will Smith's kid and Jackie Chan. Can we nuke Whoreywood yet? Bleh.

Swear to fuck if the kid ends up washing a bunch of ricemobiles I'm gonna go all woopty shit on up in their bidness. Serious fer realz. Bleh.

I feel very disconnected in general today. Very stuffed up, ears plugged up, cotton-head, disconnected. Bleh.

And I can't talk. Double bleh.

What if there was like this dude, with a spaceship, and he like, lived out there along the fringe planets, but like, nobody here knew he was there except like when he popped in to tell one of the loner-types that he's all like, "dude, I totally rawk that space shit" and they'd all be, "take me home with ya, cause this place sucks tah donger" and he'd be all, "hellz yeah bitches, bring it." And then he sets up this whole secret space society thing. And they're all busy being superior and awesome, because they live in space, but the populate their way up, because, obviously, half of all loners are superhottay chicks that just wanna pop out kids by the dozens and are looking for an excuse, right? So, like, they come back to earf a few years after that next generation grows up and doesn't know shit about shit on earth and they all think that there's like, "WHOAH HOW TEH FAWK! WHY U HERE?" and they'd be all, "HOW U LOOK LIK US?" and then they come back wit, "WAIT?! U SPEAK ENRISH?" and then they go to war because, obviously, you can't tolerate that shit. Fucking aliens.

See^^. That's the type of shit going on in my head right now. It's like I got invaded by some weird combination of Arthur C. Clark and MisterQueue. Bleh.

In between pissing myself off with ideas for my current writing project. NO YOU TWO! I TOLD YOU NOT YET! Bleh.

And I ain't even rocking the medicines yet. That could make for an EPIC weekend. Bleh.

Just bleh.

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