Ten seconds ...
I am in NO mood right now. That's it. Just no mood. No mood for stupid fucking questions from stupid fucking people. I'm done. Right now, I'm done. You call me at work and you waste more than five seconds of my time with your bullshit rambling, I'm giving you the fucking axe. I'm fucking tired, I'm fucking hungry, I'm fucking coming down with something, I haven't been sleeping enough, I have about five thousand things to deal with right now. NO MOOD!
I was supposed to write a story by today and I haven't done it. Once I get to this point and I'm past my own self-imposed deadline, it usually doesn't get done; I'd expect more of that. These kinds of things generally need that Spur of the Moment feel to be of any kind of quality anyway.
I'm just trying to get through the day as tamely as possible. After two straight long, killer days of pouring over submissions from people for my site, I need a break. Time's a wasting, and right now I've got more submissions in the can for the May issue than I do for April, which is currently, officially half-full thanks to Emily submitting a painting. Alas, it's looking more and more likely that hers will be the final visual arts submission for April.
May is 7/8 full right now, with that final spot "saved" for this Jewish guy from Brooklyn. He sent me a link to his blog and I read about half and I was entertained, but I'm having a hard time pegging him down. I told him to feel free to write as offensively as possible, so if you don't appreciate his entry, don't come breathing down my neck, I just publish what entertains me.
I'll just say this ambiguous statement about this week's 24 and be done with it: I can't believe she finally did it.
OH, and apparently the cat's out of the damn bag about my birthday coming up this Sunday, thank you MySpace. Fuckers. I was sure I was gonna slide right through this weekend with no one the wiser. Ahh well, it's not like my birthday's been a big to-do since I was a kid and actually HAD parties. All through High School, I just remember a series of all-you-can-eat Godfathers Pizza binges with me and Jake and Chris and the Smiths conspiring against each other's unattended drinking glasses while the respective owners went back for another plateful of slices. College was just a depressing affair, culminating in my 21 run spent alone in my room because I was the oldest one in the dorms. They've improved somewhat since then. I remember my first birthday after graduation, Mark drove down and picked me up from Tacoma so I could go to his house and watch the first day of the NCAA Men's Basketball tournament. Then, there was the epic party that was St. Patrick's Day / Big Iain's Birthday / My Birthday After Midnight. That was the day before / the day of that I saw Pearl Jam for the first time. Last year's was pretty okay too, though surprisingly unmemorable at the moment.
What was the plan for this year? Not as fun-sounding as my dad's 50th tonight, that's for damn sure! He's gonna go to a casino, gamble, drink, and probably get a hotel room. Nothing but the finest for The Hammer. As for me, if I'm not full-blown sick or off looking at replacement apartments, I'll be at a bar somewhere, sitting down all day to watch Day 4 of the First Round of the NCAA Men's Basketball tournament. With my bracket sufficiently fucked up, I hope to match it in inebriation.