As some of you may know, I set up a Roku by myself. This is a big deal since I am the world’s biggest technotard. No worries, the universe is still in balance because I have no clue what is going on with my phone and its incessant data-gobbling. Also, I had to disconnect my DVD player to get the Roku to work, and this shouldn’t have to occur, so idk what. But otoh, why would I need DVDs if I have a Roku (plus Netflix), right? Right.
[I don't need any helpful emails from the stalker contingent, thanks. I have people. The above paragraph was purely for entertainment purposes.]
Anyway, I’ve been catching up on Sons of Anarchy. I used to fondly describe this show as the Sopranos on Harleys. But… it’s not. In five days I’ve plowed through S3 plus a a couple eps in S4 this morning. If I force myself to sit and watch the show like there’s going to be a test, I’ll turn it off, so my way is to do other things while the TV is on, pay half-attention and miss stuff. I don’t hit pause to make tea or take a call. And that’s how I enjoy SOA. I like the music, the S&V, and the occasional triple cross. And let’s be honest: I love watching Charlie. That’s all… and that’s enough. The writing just isn’t that good. It’s rarely funny. But I’ll stick with it, for now.
The Sopranos got my attention 100%. So did Breaking Bad. Maybe there will be another show that does. SOA is not it. And that’s how I do a TV show I like but don’t love. Not everything has to rise to the level of obsessive fandom. That’s how I did Star Trek and Seinfeld, zomg! No, I don’t remember that ep. Or that one. Sorry, not obsessed.
Oh, for cryin’ out loud. I guess I’m going to have to start ignoring half the people on my friends list for being so whiny and irritating. My whole feed is filled with people ranting about one side of politics or the other or engaging in this ego massage over a silly riddle they got wrong and are now attempting to analyze and justify with massive doses of utter bullshit. Because they “had to” change their pic to a giraffe to show the world that they failed at the riddle. My god. If it’s that upsetting to be a giraffe, just log off for the three days and return with your normal photo. I tried to branch out to read new peeps, but they just knee-jerk predictably over the same old emo-grabby stuff in Salon or Jezebel, gah. I’m just gobsmacked, as they say. For my part, I try to keep it fun and light by mocking myself or posting cute things about cats or cake that everyone should love… if they don’t, then they are beyond my help.
Everyone, please… check your labels and make sure you are taking your meds as Rx’d. Thanks, mwah.
In years past, I thought it would be smart to go into the November 50K writing challenge by (1) keeping the month relatively clear of social engagements in order to free up as much time as possible; and (2) writing a contemporary romance, since that’s what I can do best and fastest. The writing, that is, not the doing, obviously.
But this year I figured, meh, that’s for pussies… why not (A) shovel a billion social thingers onto my calendar to a priori screw myself out of as much free time as possible before the month even starts; and (B) write a mystery thriller type whozit, a genre I’m totes unfamiliar with, so that I have no idea whatsoever what I’m doing. Yeah, what a fab idea!
So, that’s what I’m doing. Come November I’m busier than I’ve been in ages. And I’m doing NaNo ~ I have a detailed outline for eight chapters of a scary book. Well, it’s not really an outline; it’s a glob of notes in paragraph form. That might be half the book, not sure. Could be a third. We will see. I don’t know how to pace this kind of a story.
But let’s be real. I don’t know how to pace a romance either. Ha. Ha ha ha.
See, this is why I’m awesome. I make jokes at my own expense. This would not be funny if I said it about a politician. Or a giraffe.
ALL PAY TRIBUTE TO MY AWESOMENESS.
In cupcakes. Mmmcupcakes. No pie.