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30 November 2006 @ 09:10 am
Shut UP! Just shut up right now! You're telling me that Nick Lachey, THE Nick Lachey - of Jessica Simpson, MTV, Newlyweds fame - has purchased 1/3 of the Tacoma Rainiers??? Shut UP!!!

I'm not gonna lie to you, this is a boon for our little local baseball team! Are you kidding? Nick "I've Had More Hollywood Starlet Poontang In One Day Than You Could Ever Dream Of In Your Life" Lachey! In Tacoma! I'm tellin' ya, I'm swooning at this news. This guy is, like, my idol! I mean, just imagine it: He's had his face in between Jessica Simpsons huge jugs, and he's probably done that thing where he shakes his head "No" really fast in between 'em while saying, "Hubububububbub." Just ... I mean, can you IMAGINE IT?

I think, as one of those between-innings baseball contests, they should get a big inflatable Jessica Simpson bust and wheel it out on the field, stick it at first base, and have little kids field ground balls at short stop and whip them into the gigantic hole in her head. It would be FAN-tastic!

The Tacoma Fucking Rainiers, man. Unbelievable! Did you know they talked about that on CNN yesterday morning? That braindead morning news team, talking about the Tacoma Fucking Rainiers! You know the Everett Aquasox are bitterly jealous. Somewhere in Everett right now, there's a team owner on the phone with Joey Fatone or something. Oh yeah? Well, WE GOT NICK LACHEY!!! Who's that singing the national anthem for the 27th time this season ... WHY IT'S NICK LACHEY, MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!!

Everett Aquasox ... psssh! They couldn't even get fellow 98 Degreer DREW Lachey! Pussies.
 
 
You'll have to excuse me, I'm still waking up here. I was up until 1:30 last night throwing down the finishing touches on the Great American Improv Novel.

I can't even remember, how many pages did I need as of yesterday? I guess I wrote 30, but that was after I'd already written 10 or 15 ... so I probably wrote 40-45 pages alone yesterday. I shouldn't be surprised; I mean, the ending of any story's always gonna come in a big huge clump as ideas start becoming more clear and all that nonsense.

I mean, Jesus, you wanna hear how crazy this novel is? It starts out for the longest time looking like the Great American Porno Novel; then, like, there's this weird love story mixed in there; THEN, there's some random Hunter S. Thompson homage that disappears almost as quickly, really having nothing to do with the rest of the story whatsoever; then the love story returns; then there's this crazy Vegas part; THEN, I threw in some kind of, like, action/suspense thing; and finally it just kinda ends. It's all about this guy who decides he wants to make everyone believe that he's only got a year to live, and it's just series of lies after series of lies, until finally either he's got to lie in the bed he's made or go crawling back and tell the truth to nearly everyone in his life. And it's all told split between first and third person, the first person being like an Online Journal form that's sort of cut-up; and the third person including the bulk of the dialogue and real-time scenes, interspersed.

I dunno, it's kind of a mess, and it needs a LOT more work than the last one probably does. I'm just glad it's fucking over. 50,130-something words I believe. It's called "The Long Slow Death Of Ricky" but that's only because I can't remember if I gave him a last name or not. So, really, it's "The Long Slow Death Of Ricky Something."

I hope I find there's something to salvage there besides a couple of short stories. I'm kind of all over the map, though, because I like the whole love story angle kinda, but I think it's a little too hokey for this story. I dunno, maybe not. I think I just need to re-work a few things. Make sure the characters have more defining characteristics and keep them consistent.

But, like I said, December is for other things. I got another short story I'm itching to write, but I gotta be in the right mood because the whole thing's gonna be kinda depressing. Probably something for a Sunday night after a Seahawks loss or something.
 
 
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