I didn't come up with that joke. It's plagiarized--and I don't even know from whom. That's the worst kind of plagiarism.
I saved this picture for my friend Beth who, 18 years ago, used to giggle every time I used the phrase "tapetum lucidum." You'll either have to look it up, or ask Beth. Once she's done giggling.
Okay--you thought I was kidding about National Novel Writing Month. I am not. As a matter of fact, I've been rather busy dealing with panic attacks this last week thinking about the subject matter about to come crashing down around me starting Thursday. Then my back went out. Actually, it was my neck and shoulders. The chiropractor called it "A Cute Tortellini" or some such thing. All I know is it meant I could only look forward, and only in pain. This is not a good thing for a writer to have right before NaNoWriMo. I can't afford it, but I'll be back to see the Italian Chiropractor tomorrow night to make sure I can move (and type) on Nov 1.
Hardly the way I intended to celebrate the one-year anniversary of meeting Dave Grohl, but Dave's wife would never have approved of what I actually had in mind.
Hardly the way I intended to celebrate the one-year anniversary of meeting Dave Grohl, but Dave's wife would never have approved of what I actually had in mind.
I can't just keep typing things for you to read. Didn't you hear I have a very cute case of tortellini? My left arm is going numb. Does that make you happy? Jesus, sometimes I think you people have no ability to entertain yourselves. I also think I am watching too much House. Let's all pray for that writers' strike that Hollywood is threatening: It means my TV shows will disappear for November and let me write.
Wait a minute. Am I really willing to cross the picket lines for this impending novel? I'm not even published (college doesn't count) and I am a traitor to my compadres. Just when I thought there was nothing worse than being a no-name plagiarist.
2 comments:
For some reason, in that picture of Dave Grohl and...that other guy...my initial impression was that they were at a furniture store, trying out a couch. I'm really not sure why, but it seriously took me a minute to realize that wasn't the setting.
I hope your adorable fettuccine, or whatever, is better soon, and in time for NaNo! We can do it! 2-4-6-8, etc.! De-Fense!
I'm seriously going to hire some cheerleaders or something to come cheer me on. I'm SO gonna freakin' need it. I'll send a few your way, too. Just think, if you finish the book, that will make them STOP. What better motivation is there?
I'm convinced I have a picture of Dave that can be connected somehow to any topic I write on. I realize this borders on delusional. The other fellow is the Foo drummer, Taylor Hawkins, and when I look at the picture I get the impression that Taylor just farted.
Anyway--my endearing linguine is much better but still threatening. Thank God for chiropractors.
And do you mean that finishing the novel will make the cheerleaders stop, or the memories? I know, I'm asking too much. Always have, always will.
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